The Vampire Dimitri by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online Page A

pounding and insistent, filling his vision, stunned him.
    The force of need, of a long-renounced instinct, suddenly burst free. His fingers trembled, his fangs threatened to shoot forth, bulging inside his swelling gums. He had to lower his eyelids to hide the hungry red glow lest Miss Woodmore see.
    Foolish, damned, stupid, mad bastard.
    What in Luce’s hell had he been thinking, taking a woman like her away into a dark corner? Especially a woman who riled up his ire as easily as his frustration?
    But he had no more thoughts; they scattered like a shattered goblet as her gloved hand rested against the ruby-colored glass pin adorning his neckcloth. Taller somehow, she lifted her face the fraction that she needed to, putting herself there. Right there. A breath away.
    Saliva pooled in his mouth. His skin flushed beneath his mask. It had been so long since he’d wanted to kiss awoman. He tried to fight it away, but the Mark on his back raged and burned hotter, reminding him of how he’d denied himself unnecessarily. Her lips beckoned, plump and pink, and he wanted to see if they tasted as sweet and lush as they looked. The searing heat blazed even stronger now that Lucifer felt him wavering, and it radiated down Dimitri’s back and through his limbs.
    Embattled by pain, overwhelmed by desire and long-denied need, he couldn’t keep himself from bending to her, covering her lips.
    She surrounded him: her spicy, sweet scent, her confident demeanor, her small hands, the pool of her sparkling gown. Her mouth…that entity that alternately exasperated and teased him, with its top lip that was just a bit fuller than the bottom…softened beneath his, fit to his lips, and gently brushed across his to one side. Her mouth was warm and lush, and she left a little wake of prickling, a dusting of pleasure on his sensitive mouth…and then she lifted away.
    He went back for more, no longer fully master of himself. He found her lips again and took a longer, deeper drink from her taunting mouth. She made a soft, delicious moan that sent a new blaze of desire shuttling through his belly, her lips moving desperately against his. The world was red and hot, and the scent of her floral spice filled Dimitri’s consciousness.
    Perhaps it was this—the recognition of the tantalizing scent, its familiarity and corresponding forbiddance—that enabled him to grasp the last wisp of control and drag himself away. God and the Fates, not her.
    Not anyone, but most of all, not her.
    Fingers tightening into each other, gouging through the gloves into his palms, he stepped back, his heart pounding in his ears, his breathing much too loud. His fangs were outof control and fighting to be free, and he had to turn away, closing his eyes to hide the proof of the demon he was.
    His ruthless control regained—albeit tenuously—he cleared his senses of the heat and sweetness he’d tasted, swallowed hard. Tried not to breathe too deeply, for fear that scenting her would make it begin all over.
    And the crack that had begun to form in his ordered world he snapped viciously together.
    Terrified by what she might see in his eyes when he opened them, Dimitri was weak with relief when he saw that she had turned slightly away. Looking down, he noticed her hand still somehow settled on his chest. She seemed to be wavering through her own battle for control.
    Or, more likely, stability.
    Dimitri wasn’t certain whether he ought to curse the champagne punch that she’d indulged in, or to be grateful for its intoxicating properties.
    â€œAnd so that makes five,” he said, relieved that his voice was cool and steady. Emotionless. He barely remembered to keep it low, to a mere murmur, to further obscure his identity. Fate protect me from that at least. “I wonder if, at the next masque, you might attempt to make it an even half dozen pairs of lips to taste?”
    At that, she looked up at him and he nearly went