a bucket next to the table, and she shook her head.
“No, thank you. I should excuse myself. It’s very late.” Her gaze skimmed the clock and her heart clenched in her chest. Very late.
Very, very late.
Malcolm followed her glance. “It’s fine. The windows will close automatically…”
Automatically? For the first time since entering the suite, her gaze swept to the far wall and the wide bank of windows overlooking the Las Vegas strip. Of course they closed automatically. Malcolm was a vampire. The desert sun could hardly be good for him.
“Malcolm.” Jeannie pushed her chair back and rose, with him hurriedly following. She dropped the napkin across her cleared plate with a tight smile of apology. “Please forgive me. It’s been a lovely evening, but I have to go.”
He frowned, but nodded slowly as he circled the table and to her utter surprise his hands closed on her shoulders, tugging her forward until his lips brushed her forehead.
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
Her heart pummeled her ribs.
“I don’t…I don’t know that it would be a good idea.”
“No?” Malcolm lifted both brows and his hands glided up to cup her face. He tilted his head forward and her surroundings faded as his mouth slanted across hers.
The world expanded wildly, racing in every direction and pulling all of her objections away like a spool of thread unraveling. He massaged her lips with his, demanding access until she opened her mouth and his tongue thrust inside. He tasted so masculine. She tilted her head back trying to give him greater access and he lifted her up in his arms, stroking her against the firm, hard length of his body. His fangs grazed her tongue as she slid it past his lips and pleasure drenched her mind.
She forgot about leaving. She forgot about the sun. She forgot every objection. There was only Malcolm and the demanding caress of his mouth as he plundered hers.
And then he pulled away, leaving her breathless as his fingers trailed down her cheek. “You will see me tomorrow, Jeannie.”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to leave, but the soft swish of the shutters beginning to close around the room spurred her from the haze. “Tomorrow.”
Malcolm smiled, his gaze dark and filled with forbidden promise.
“Tomorrow.”
Gathering the shreds of her composure, Jeannie turned on her heel and walked to the door, careful not to flee. Her heart slamming against her ribs punctuated every step and when she looked behind her, she found Malcolm staring at her, a wild hunger in his eyes.
Tomorrow she wouldn’t be leaving the suite. Her pulse leapt and she pushed herself to go before she ruined everything.
Chapter Six
Malcolm forced his hands into his pockets and his body into a semblance of stillness as the door closed behind Jeannie’s ripe, lush form. He could have easily compelled her to stay. It took far more willpower to not compel her than it did to persuade her that it would be all right.
And that would make me no better than Frederick. Toying with another just to get my own way for a few hours entertainment. He knew himself well enough to recognize how hollow a victory that would be, no matter how desperately thick and aching his cock was or the slow burn creeping through his blood. He inhaled a thick lungful of air, forcing his heart to slow down, his body to unclench.
He would be jacking off in the shower in a matter of minutes. Stroking himself to a pale facsimile of orgasm with the scent of her coating his nostrils and the taste of her rich on his tongue. His fangs sharpened, the physical act puncturing the haze of desire.
At five centuries, he’d long since learned to control the wild hunger for blood, the lust for the hunt and the desperate need to feel flesh parting as hot blood spilled across his tongue. He could easily go months between feedings, supplementing himself on bagged blood.
So why is it that I am acting like a youth hungering for his first real taste?
The phone’s shrill
Learning to Kill: Stories