His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

Under Charlie’s grip, Wilson gasps, trying to draw breath.

“He’s just a friend,” I repeat. “An ex. He still has a key, but he shouldn’t. You should take it away from him.”

Charlie turns back, examining Wilson, whose face has turned a frightening shade of red. I don’t doubt Charlie will kill Wilson if he wants.

“Please, Charlie,” I beg. “Please let him go. He’s harmless, I swear. Please don’t hurt him.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow, and he looks back at me and then to his prey.

“Please don’t kill him. Please, Charlie.”

How long has Wilson’s air been cut off? I’m convinced it’s all over, that Wilson’s gonna die, but at long last, Charlie eases his grip on my ex’s throat.

Wilson gasps for breath, doubling over.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie demands.

When Wilson doesn’t answer, Charlie wraps a fist in his shirt and hauls him off his feet again. “I said, what are you doing here?”

I shiver, oddly turned on by the masculine display of aggression. Somehow it makes his gentleness with me all the more apparent. Or maybe it’s just the ginger in my ass, heating my naughty parts until I can’t think straight.

Wilson stares at Charlie with wild eyes, presumably freaked out by the fangs and having almost been choked to death. Oh and probably also from seeing me trussed up naked like a sex slave.

“What are you doing here, Wilson?” I ask as calmly as I can. Maybe he’ll answer me, if not the vampire.

Wilson’s eyes dart from Charlie’s face to mine. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“I’m asking the questions,” Charlie snarls.

“Answer him, Wilson,” I warn. I know I’m safe with the vampire, but I doubt Wilson is. Charlie looks ready to drain him.

“I just...thought I’d stop by. You know, I missed you. And then I saw the windows all boarded up, and I got worried, so I used my key.”

“Okay, listen,” I say quickly, as if I’m not hanging by my wrists with flogging marks on my ass. “We’re over. You don’t get to stop by, and you don’t get to keep the key. Give it to Charlie.” I nod to the vampire. I wobble a little. I’m probably not sounding as in control as I hope I am. It’s super hard to sound authoritative when strung up naked in one’s living room.

Wilson fumbles for the keys, dropping them on the floor. Charlie releases him with a shove in the key’s direction.

“Pick them up.” Charlie’s British accent is sharp enough to slice bone.

Wilson bends to pick them up, his hands shaking as he pulls my house key off. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m trying to get laid, now get out!” I snap, trying to sound as bitchy as possible. The last thing I need is Wilson deciding to play hero and trying to rescue me from Charlie because that’s a good way for him to end up dead.

Charlie’s eyes aren’t red anymore. He seems calmer, more in control. He plucks the key from Wilson’s grip and Wilson’s eyes lose focus. My ex walks out without another word, clearly hypnotized.

Fork. That was close. I sag in my bonds. I expect Charlie to interrogate me, but he blurs to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me gently to release me from the door. He unloops the belt from my wrists and threads it through his belt loops without a word.

I wince at the sensation of blood running back into my arms. I open and close my hands, breathing through the pins and needles. The ginger root still burns in my ass, making my pussy weep with readiness. Oh, heck with it. I dance around, shaking my arms, squeezing my cheeks together and whimpering.

Charlie catches my wrists and rubs the place where the buckle left a red mark on my skin.

I twist out of his grip and grab his hands. “What did you do to him?” I can’t forget Wilson’s glazed look. My neighbor, my coworker and now my ex—who else is going to be collateral damage?

“I made him forget what he saw and told him not to come around anymore.” Charlie sounds perfectly calm. He slips my grip in a move too fast to see. The next thing I know, he’s grabbed hold of my hair and pulls my head back. I’m panting now. Between the burn in my ass and the bite in my scalp, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been. It’s not just the pain—it’s Charlie, all the way.

The vampire studies me, his gaze caressing my neck. Is he angry with me? What will he do now? I lick my lips, trying to think of the right words to calm him, but his gaze hoods and drops to my lips, and suddenly I can’t think at all.

He tugs me closer to whisper in my ear, “I really, really like it when you beg like that.”