Her taste is fizzy and light on my tongue, intoxicating as champagne. And I haven’t even sipped her blood yet. Her scent is crazy-making.
I have to force myself to pull away, the throbbing of my cock too painful.
And even though she knows better, she boldly meets my gaze. “What era are you from?” So adorably curious, despite her trepidation.
“I was turned in 1825.”
“Turned to vampire?”
I nod. I typically don’t tell personal details, but I can’t help myself.
A tiny shudder runs through her, but she continues to stare at me. She reaches out and touches my jaw, sending a tiny shock of electricity through me.
I catch her little hand and turn it over, my gaze inexorably drawn to the blue vein in her wrist. She notices and snatches her hand back, holding it against her chest as she eyes me warily.
“I’m not going to drain you, and I won’t turn you, but I do require your full cooperation.” I put a finger under her chin. “Can you give that to me, Aurelia?”
She lifts her chin. “What happens if I say no?”
I smile wide enough to show fang. “Nobody tells a vampire no. You’re my captive now. You’ll win your freedom when you’ve figured out how to rid me of my curse.”
Aurelia
“I told you—I don’t have any magic.” My voice comes out a little quavery. My nana told me to trust my instincts, that there was more to me than meets the eye. But...magic? Little ole me, have magical powers? Is that what she meant?
The vampire gives me a look. We both know he saw my magic bubble aura thingy, whatever it is.
I gulp. “If I do, I don’t know how to control it. I’m not a witch.”
“No you’re not,” he agrees, tipping my face this way and that. “But you’re not entirely human, little mortal. You’re something special. Something more.”
“Like what?”
“Take a guess, Tinkerbell.” He emphasizes the Disney character’s name. The fairy in Peter Pan.
Fairy. I blink. “You think I’m a fairy?”
“I believe the proper term is fae.” He shifts me on his lap, just enough to remind me my butt still stings. Receiving a spanking by a vampire is surreal enough. Now I’m supposed to do magic for him? Get rid of a curse? And if I don’t do something I have no idea how to do, he won’t let me go. No pressure. I suck in a breath before I pass out.
“What makes you think I’m a fairy? Wouldn’t I have had, like, fairy parents? Or something like that?”
His lips twist into a sexy smile. “Yes. But I have yet to meet a fairy like that. My research has uncovered certain mortals who carry traces of fairy blood.”
“Research? What sort of research? Is there some sort of paranormal 23andme?”
His chuckle is sexy enough to unravel my panties. “Something like that. I’ve been searching a long time. I’ve found that, in some, the fae shows up stronger than others.”
“And you think that’s what I have? Fae blood?”
“Yes.” He lifts me off my lap. “And that makes you perfect for my purposes.”
“What makes you think I’d want to help you, even if I could?”
He tilts his head to the side. His dark hair falls over his brow, framing his glittering black eyes. “My dear, what makes you think you have a choice?” He gives me a toothy smile. “I’m your master now, little one. Satisfy me, and I’ll reward you. Disappoint me, and there will be consequences.” His gaze is heated, like the idea of delivering more consequences turns him on.
My nipples tighten to diamond points.
“Do you need me to punish you again to remind you I am your master?”
Yes. My pussy clenches. “No.”
“Then I propose a partnership. But first, a test of obedience.” He studies me so long, I shift from foot to foot. “Something simple…I know.” He raises his finger and snaps before pointing to the kitchen. “Make me a snack.”
Seriously? What is this, the 1950s? And why am I so turned on?
Confusion makes me snappish. “Why don’t you make your own snack?”
He pulls me back down on his lap and tugs my head back by my hair. His fangs slash out, and there’s no humanity in his expression as he stares at my exposed neck. “Shall I?” he rasps.
I make an incoherent sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper.
He lowers his head until his hair brushes my face, and he touches his long fangs to my carotid artery. “Shall I choose my own snack, little fairy? Or will you make me something from your kitchen?” Underneath my butt, his dick is long and hard. I don’t know why I’m so aware of it, but I am.
“I’ll make it,” I choke out.
He releases my hair and helps me stand. “Such a gracious hostess. Thank you.” His British accent is the height of condescension.