The Vampire Voss (Regency Draculia 1)

Nothing like the countless other times, with digging fangs and rough hands in darkness.

This was hot and red and she finally had enough, turning abruptly in his arms. Their mouths met, clashing fiercely and then subsided into gentle, slick kisses.

When she pulled away, her fangs thrusting, needy, from her mouth, she moved into his arms. His skin was warm and salty, smelled and tasted of wool damp from rain and the smoke of the fireplace below. Her tongue swiped his neck and she slid the outside of her incisors along his skin as she nibbled, not penetrating, not yet.

He shivered, trembling against her and she reached between them for the raging cock. It was hot and heavy in her palm, and he groaned when she pulled it free, stroking the head with its own little drop of pleasure.

The tendons in his neck tightened beneath her lips and she felt the rush of blood in his veins against her tongue. Her gums had swollen, and they hurt, thrusting her teeth so hard, but she didn’t sink her fangs into that hot brown skin.

“Narcise,” he groaned, pulling her face up to meet his. Their mouths met again, fierce and hungry as he pulled at the flap of her breeches, yanking the square of buttons loose.

Her sharp tooth sliced his lip and warm blood slicked her mouth and his. Rich and lush, just enough to tease and to send desire raging through her, and she kissed him deeper.

He smiled against her mouth and pulled away long enough to murmur, “Tease.”

She smiled back and sucked hard on his full, lower lip just as he managed to pull her trousers away, yanking them down past her knees. “That’s all I need,” she said as they tipped onto the bed.

He gave a soft, pained laugh as she straddled him, her breeches clinging to only one leg. Her hands settled onto his shirt, for he was still fully clothed. Narcise looked down into his hot, focused eyes and slicked her tongue over her lips and the jut of her fangs as she curled her fingers around his erection. Chas tensed and his eyes narrowed in pleasure.

Then she shifted and rose and slipped him inside—the hot, hard length of him. She sighed as he filled her, touching her deep inside in that place…and the tremors of pleasure shook inside her, bursting into heat that flushed through her body. Ah.

Chas groaned, tipping his head back, the tendons in his neck and throat taut and inviting. She shifted, moving her hips slowly, purposely out of rhythm, teasing him just as he was teasing her. One of his hands reached up to pull at her loose shirt, closing over one of her br**sts, and his thumb found the jut of her nipple. Pleasure panged in her belly and down as he gently twisted and stroked.

Narcise shifted again, moving up and down and around and he opened his eyes. “Damn you,” he gasped, looking up with glittering eyes. “Do it.”

She smiled and planted her hands on his heaving chest, feeling the slide of muscle there and the power of his lethal hands on her hips as he helped her in the rise and fall, the sleek slide. Long and easy, as if they were out for an evening ride.

She bent forward, her face near his, the blood on his lower lip glistening. His breath puffed into her cheek, his hands solid at her hips, his own hips moving up to meet hers.

“Do it,” he whispered, turning his face away.

She shifted, scraping her incisors against the smooth heat of his skin, felt his breathing change as he waited for her to sink in. She licked the salt of his flesh, nibbled at the rise of the taut muscle in his throat, felt him tense everywhere…the shift of his breath as he waited.

“No,” she whispered, deep in his ear, and thrust her tongue inside as an apology.

“Narcise,” he begged.

“You don’t want me to,” she told him, tasting his lip again, knowing it was the truth. Knowing how he always hated himself after.

Please. His mouth formed the word against her cheek, but she pulled up and away and yanked off her shirt.

Her br**sts were free and high, and his hands closed on them. She bent forward for one more swipe over his bloodied lip and then let herself go…increasing the rhythm, lifting her hands above her head as they shifted and slammed together.

She cried out first, the taste of his blood mingled with her own as she bit her lip, his mouth suddenly fastened onto one of her ni**les. Her body tightened around his, and he arched beneath her in a final exertion and heartfelt groan.

“Mmm,” he said as she shifted to the side, collapsing next to his warm, still-clothed body. A lean hand stroked along her hip and he turned toward her. “What a fool am I,” he murmured in a voice not quite low enough to hide the wryness. “Taking up with a vampire.”

She closed her eyes, but stretched like a waking cat beneath his hand. Being touched with gentleness was something she craved more than he could understand. “I’m not certain who is more the fool, Chas. The hunter or the hunted.” She heard rather than saw him smile, and sensed the cynicism there.

He shifted next to her and sat up. “There is something I must tell you.”

Narcise’s heart skipped but she kept her eyes closed, kept her body languid. It had been a matter of self-preservation to learn that skill. “You’re going to confess how many Dracule you’ve killed?”

“I’ve lost count,” he replied, an answering hint of humor there. “But you needn’t fear I’ll turn on you. I’ve no energy left after this last bout.” His hand had stopped stroking her hip and now he moved it away from where it had rested on her waist. “I’m meeting someone below.”

Narcise’s eyes flew open. “What?” He’d promised he’d keep their whereabouts secret. Completely secret. That he’d tell no one they were in England, let alone where they were. “Chas, what have you done?”

He sat up fully and looked down at her. “I have three sisters. I have to—”

“But Dimitri is seeing to them—and isn’t one in a convent school? Cezar will never get past either Dimitri or the holy walls.”

Chas was nodding. “Yes, but I must at least let them know I’m alive. And I need to know that they’ve been taken care of. I assure you, no one will be the wiser to our presence here. Only one person knows of the meeting, and I trust Cale with my life.”

Giordan? Narcise’s heart stopped. No.

“Perhaps you don’t remember Giordan Cale, but he’s a confidant of Dimitri. Not titled, but rich as Croesus and—” he gave a gentle laugh “—more than a match for me. I met him when I sneaked in to stake him. Obviously, we both lived.”

Narcise found her voice. “Obviously.” And just as obviously, one thing Chas didn’t know was the history between Cezar and Giordan. And her.