Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
I want them out of the way. I want him inside me. I want.
I open my mouth to tell him, but his tongue is there, stealing my words, my thoughts, my very sanity. One of us is snarling. It might be me. I can’t stop, rolling my body up to meet his every stroke. I taste myself and blood on his tongue, and it only drives my frenzy higher. More, more, more. Don’t stop.
I come again and he goes still against me. He lifts his head and this time I know I’m not imagining the flames in his eyes. I’m breathing so hard, I’m gasping. “Malachi?”
He strokes a hand down my thigh, hitching my leg up around his waist. His pants are wet, but I can’t tell if it’s because of me or because of him. He drops his head to my neck and keeps moving against me, rocking in an almost decadent motion. I cling to him, barely managing to keep from begging him to fuck me.
The first sign something’s gone wrong is the heat flickering against my arm.
I open my eyes and shriek. “Fire.”
Malachi doesn’t stop moving against me. He doesn’t seem to notice the flames licking at the floorboards in almost a perfect circle around us. It’s not getting closer, but the room is on fire. I yank on his hair. “Malachi.” Still no response.
In a panic, I do the only thing I can think of. I squirm my hand between our bodies and grab his cock in a ruthless grip. He rears back, his eyes entirely black. Smoke burns my throat. “Fire, Malachi.”
He blinks and gives himself a shake. A brief wave of his hand and the flames smother themselves. “Sorry.”
I stare at the burned floor. I know all seven of the bloodlines have different magical properties associated with them, but my father decided I didn’t need to know more than that. He never saw fit to inform me that Malachi’s is fire. I swallow hard, tasting ash. “Is that going to happen every time we make out?”
He slumps on top of me and gives a hoarse laugh. “No. I lost control.”
That’s not nearly as comforting as he seems to think it is. “Let me get this straight; we didn’t even have sex and you lost control enough to set the room on fire.”
He still seems to have no desire to move off me. “Your blood is intoxicating, little dhampir. It’s easy to lose myself in you.”
I blink at the ceiling. “So it’s my fault you lost control and almost killed us both?”
“No.” He finally sits back and pulls me up with him. “It’s simply the way things are. But you were never in any danger. I wouldn’t have let the fire touch you.”
There is a perfect circle around us of untouched floor. “I can die from smoke inhalation. Or the floor could have collapsed and given us both an inconvenient stake in the heart. So, yeah, I think I might have been in some danger.”
He frowns at the charred boards as if he never considered those outcomes. But then, why would he? No matter he keeps calling me dhampir, he keeps drinking my blood, he seems to forget sometimes I’m not operating on the same level he is. I think it might be a compliment if it wasn’t likely to get me killed on accident.
Finally Malachi shakes his head. “It won’t happen again.”
“But—”
“It won’t happen again,” he repeats firmly.
Maybe I should let this go, but I can’t quite manage it. “You’ve drank my blood several times in the last couple days and this hasn’t happened before.” He also wasn’t licking an orgasm out of me before now, either, but surely that isn’t enough to undermine his control so thoroughly. I have never heard of a vampire losing it like this during sex, let alone foreplay. Granted, my information is incomplete, but surely people would talk about it if it was a real risk? Vampires might be immortal, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be killed. Any of the seven bloodlines have powers strong enough to kill. If they lose it every time someone orgasms, their lines all would have died out a long time ago.
Malachi sits back on his heels and drags his hand over his face. “I underestimated the strength of your blood. It’s increased my strength as a result.”
I pull my legs to my chest, acutely aware my yoga pants no longer cover the essentials. “I thought you’ve drank from dhampirs before. Why didn’t you expect this?”
“Because none of the dhampirs I’ve tasted before had this effect on me.” His dark gaze turns contemplative, and I notice his pupils have retreated to their customary shape, no longer bleeding over the entirety of his eyes. “It’s strange.”
When it comes to vampires, strange is not an asset. Something akin to panic bleats through my veins. “Stop it.”