Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Those words. He said them…earlier. What clothes? He freaking ripped them off me. I think. Didn’t he?
I float.
I’m drifting. Images are blurred, but I see hazy blocks of color. Two orbs of green.
Rogan’s eyes.
I’m with him. But where?
Things went black for a moment, but now… I’m moving. Somehow I’m moving but my legs aren’t working.
Something changes.
I’m still floating, but it’s different. The colors morph from bright to subdued.
Princess.
A voice. A deep and throaty voice. A voice that makes me shiver.
“Rogan?”
“Easy, princess. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just smoked some really good weed. Or weed laced with something.”
“Don’t do drugs…” somehow makes it out of my throat.
“You sure? I’m thinking my blood is a drug to you. I had to force you off my neck.”
I widen my eyes. Everything’s stiff fuzzy.
Everything except Rogan’s green eyes.
They’re beautiful.
“For a vamp, you don’t seem to know how to pace yourself.”
His statement confounds me. Pace myself? I do nothing but pace myself. I have to.
This time, though? I didn’t. His blood is like the sweetest nectar, the juiciest fruit, the lustiest wine. I can’t get enough of it.
“Blood isn’t a drug for us, Rogan. It’s nourishment. Our physiology requires it.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I mean good. You’re coming out of your drunken haze. You’re making sense now.”
I close my eyes, will them to work, and open them again.
I’m back in my room at the hotel. Rogan got me here somehow. Did he carry me through the casino? The bed’s still unmade. What the fuck, housekeeping? My body is on high alert due to Rogan’s presence, but at least now I’m thinking clearly.
I sit up. “Whoa.” The haze returns with a vengeance.
“Lie down.” Rogan adjusts my pillow. “It’ll pass.”
Will it? How would he know? Has anyone taken his blood before?
A low growl drifts through the air, and—
Damn. It came from me. From the thought of some other vamp taking Rogan’s blood. Not on my watch. That blood is mine.
Mine.
“Mine,” I say out loud.
“What? What’s yours?”
I reach toward him, grab onto his hair and pull him toward me. “You are. You. Are. Mine.”
Another growl, this time more forceful.
And it’s not coming from me.
Then—
“Fuck, princess.”
His lips are on mine, his tongue prying them open. I’m falling—falling into the depths of the hotel mattress, falling into—
He rips away from me. “No! Damn it, no!”
I lick my lips, taste his tongue, the spice and wolf.
“Fuck.” He rubs at his forehead. “Damn. My blood. I taste my own fucking blood.”
I lick my lips again. I still taste his blood, but now it’s mingled with the taste of him. Of our kiss. God, it’s ambrosia.
“This can’t happen,” he says. “I can’t like the taste of my own blood on you.”
“You couldn’t smell it,” I say absently, the image of Rogan bringing the bandana to his nose forever imprinted in my mind.
“I can sure as hell taste it,” he say, “and I don’t like it. I don’t like it.”
My heart falls, but he continues.
“I don’t like…that I like it, princess. I like—I fucking love—the taste of my blood on you. Fuck it all.” His lips come down on mine again.
My mind goes blank.
No, can’t lose myself.
There’s a reason I’m here. My father needs information. Information about the vamp murders. Rogan’s bite marks.
Right. That’s why I’m here.
Doesn’t matter, though. Nothing matters except Rogan and his tongue tangling with mine, his body on top of mine, his bulging cock pressing into me.
I’m fully satiated with blood now, so my body is craving the rest of him. His lips, teeth. His mouth on my breasts, his tongue between my legs.
And his cock. That perfect fucking cock.
How is this even happening? I came here to seduce him for information, not fall prey to him.
He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.
He says I’m his mate. Okay. I can deal. Wolves sometimes have fated mates.
But I’m not a wolf. I’m a vampire-human hybrid. We don’t have fated mates. Not ever.
So what the hell is happening to me?
I gather every bit of strength inside me and push at Rogan’s chest so hard he lands with a thunk on the floor beside the bed.
“What the fuck, princess?”
“Hannah.” I wipe my mouth. “The name is Hannah.”
He gazes into my eyes, and I shudder involuntarily. Wolves don’t have glamouring ability, but damn, I feel like I’m being hypnotized by those green-gold irises.
“Hannah,” he growls. “I know your fucking name. Hannah Tabitha Bates. That’s your name, princess.”
Another shudder, and this one rocks through me like a freaking tidal wave. He’s fully clothed, on the floor, not touching me in any way, but my clit responds. Already I’m getting wetter.
He rises, sits next to me on the bed, and leans down until only inches separate our faces. “And my name is Victor. Say it, princess. Say my name.”
“Rogan.” My voice cracks.
“Victor,” he says, his voice deep, almost a snarl. “Say my name, princess. I want it to drizzle from your lips like droplets of my fucking blood. Like crimson silk, princess. Say it. Say my name.”