In the Dark by Melody Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

man added. I graced him with another smile.
    Before the wine
had a chance to arrive, I stepped closer to my chosen donor. I
imagined just reaching for him right there, pulling him to me and
dipping my canines into his soft, smooth skin.
    “Wanna
dance?” I invaded the very edge of his personal space. If I was
coming on too heavy, he’d lean away from me now. I wanted to
cross my fingers.
    He leaned
closer. My head swam. My stomach cramped angrily, insisting I
dispense with the formalities.
    Patience.
    “Sure,”
he said, lower than before.
    I closed my hand
over his, feeling his warmth, and led him to the floor. I kept my
thoughts on him instead of the music – I didn’t have to
try hard. Moving to the beat got his heart going, strengthening the
smell of his blood. I could have drooled.
    I kept the
contact light at first, fingertips brushing his face, hand down his
arm. Feeling him out, seeing how much he wanted. When he kept
dancing, dark eyes following me, I pressed closer, gently, teasing us
both with the contact.
    Finally I
couldn’t take the tension anymore. On the third song, eyes on
his, I pressed myself up to him and buried my mouth against his. He
pressed back into me. He tasted of wine and cigarettes until the
moment I dragged my teeth against his lower lip; then the sweet taste
of blood tinged with sharp alcohol and nicotine filled my mouth. He
didn’t even flinch. I dug my nails into his back, moist and hot
from dancing, and held him against me. I nursed the small marks on
his lip, letting his heat leak into me.
    It wasn’t
enough. Mostly I could steal what I needed with a kiss. Not this
time. Filling my mouth took ages. His blood tasted too good, I wanted
to pull harder – but I would hurt him if I did. I let go and
stepped back, watching him. His eyes followed me.
    “Come with
me,” I said, leaning to speak into his ear. Hunger made me
tremble. He read it as something else entirely.
    He followed me
off the dance floor. I took him to one of the shadowy alcoves
arranged around the club, designed for people seeking a little
privacy. The shadows slipped over us, hid us. I slid my hands under
his shirt. He reached for mine, hands smooth on my skin. I let him
unbutton it, but didn’t let him take it. I pressed my face
close to him, lips brushing the soft spot where shoulder and neck
meet. Mouth open, I tasted his salty skin, felt his pulse jump under
my tongue. My lips pulled back all on their own. My teeth slid in as
his hands slid inside my jeans, one soft, smooth motion that made us
both gasp. Blood spurted into my mouth. I let my teeth out of the
wounds and swallowed without sucking, letting his heart pump more to
me.
    I sighed against
him. He moaned, too, enjoying it at least as much as me. Kent had fed
from me once, when he made me. I knew the feel – shuddering
rapture. It worked both ways, I’d found out. Feeding was just
as addicting. I let it go on until the small wounds stopped bleeding
on their own. Just a few mouthfuls.
    I slid my mouth
from his neck, leaning against him. He sighed. I kissed him again,
since his lips were so delightfully soft. Licked at the little spot
of blood on his neck.
    “That was
amazing,” he murmured. He reached up to slide his arms around
me and I let him, listening to his heart pound with my ear against
his chest. It sounded frantic at first, pumping hard. I listened to
it slow down, gradually, until I heard a steady, calm beat. Once his
heartbeat had settled, I moved to button my shirt. I let my fingers
slide across my belly. Warm again, for a while.
    He looked a
little woozy, but otherwise fine. He’d have a hangover in the
morning, nothing else. No worse than donating a pint – less
than a pint, actually. I personally thought I traded my donors
something better than a cookie and some juice.
    “Gotta
go,” I told him. “Thanks.”
    He blinked
several times. I kissed him, then ducked away before he could
recover.
    Standing up, I
straightened my borrowed