"Damn it, Michael, why didn't you bandage that wound right away?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder. “Because I'm a vampire, and the wound will not kill me."
"But loss of blood can weaken you, and you're losing buckets of the stuff.” She knelt behind him and raised a hand. “Give me that cloth."
He did. She washed down the wound, then liberally applied the salve and bandaged it the best she could. After washing away the blood staining the back of his leg, she dropped a kiss on his butt, and rose before she was tempted to do anything else.
"You should go eat.” Her gaze met his, and her heart crashed through her chest at the desire and the love she saw blazing there.
"Yes,” he agreed softly, taking the cloth from her hand and dumping it in the sink behind him. “I should, shouldn't I?"
She placed a hand on his chest, even though all she really wanted to do was draw him close. “This is neither the time nor the place."
He caught her hand and pressed her back against the wall. “This from the woman who insisted on making love on a San Francisco bench while the rest of the world woke around us." A smile teased her lips. “So you remember that?"
"I'm remembering lots of things. Like how much I enjoy making love to you in the afternoon." His hand slid under her shirt and around her waist, his fingers almost molten against her back as he pressed her closer to his warm, hard body. Then his lips came down on hers, and for the longest time, there was no more talk, simply enjoyment.
After a while, his touch moved down her spine. It was a caress that spread like a wave through every nerve ending, leaving her whole body tingling in anticipation. He undid her skirt's button and zipper, and it fell with a sigh, puddling at her feet.
He pulled back, his breath warm on her lips as his gaze burned into hers. “Let's make love. Here. Now." His words were little more than a husky growl that made her tremble with desire. But it was the desire burning bright in his dark eyes—a desire that was not only sexual, but blood need—that worried her. He was controlling the need to taste her blood, but only just.
"Michael—"
He gave her no time to finish, his mouth closing on hers again. Her protests died, squashed by the force of his kiss. By the passion behind it.
With a husky groan, he pulled back again and ripped open her shirt, the buttons pinging across the bathroom floor as he pushed the material off her shoulders. His fingers were a flame that skimmed her back as he dropped the shirt beside the skirt. Then with a slowness that denied the urgency thrumming through the link, he skimmed his hand up her stomach and began circling one breast with a finger. His gaze held hers, leaving her drowning in the dark pool of his desire as his caress gradually worked inwards, reaching, but not quite touching, the aching, sensitive center of her breast. Perspiration skated her skin. His whisper-soft stroking moved to her other breast, and by the time he'd finished circling to the center, she was close to screaming with frustration. His mouth claimed hers again, urgently, passionately. His hands skimmed her waist, catching the sides of her panties, thrusting them down. Then he stroked her, teased her, until the shudders of pleasure became almost too much to bare. At that moment, he lifted her, claiming her in the most basic way possible. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as he thrust and surged inside her. Her body quivered with the sensations tumbling through her, her thighs clenching him tight as the pressure built and built, until she felt so tightly strung that everything would surely break. Then everything did break, and she was unraveling, groaning, with the intensity of the orgasm flowing through her. His kiss became as fierce as his body, then his mouth left hers, and his teeth grazed her neck. She jerked away before he could pierce her skin. He groaned, his need for her blood so fierce it burned down the link between them. She caught his face between her hands, pulling him away from her neck, kissing him. The sharpness of his canines grazed her tongue, warning her that the danger was not over yet. Yet it was a danger that oddly heightened her desire, revived her need for him. She knew it was as much the glamour of vampire in need of blood as the desire that still surged between them. No blood, she warned forcefully.
He groaned, his kiss becoming almost savage. She thrust the link wide open, and their minds joined with a fierceness that was far greater than anything they'd reached physically. It was mind, body and soul. For one glorious moment, they were one person, one entity. One heart. One soul. And nothing, not even blood lust, stood a chance against that oneness.
Together, they fell screaming over the edge, plunging into a sea of bliss more powerful than anything she'd experienced before.
When she remembered how to breathe again, she rested her forehead against his, and said, “Wow."
"Indeed.” He kissed her forehead and lowered her to the ground. Hunger still burned through the link, and she looked up quickly. Heat still burned in his eyes, and his body trembled as he fought the urge to slake his hunger.
"You were right. I should have fed first.” He brushed a hand across her cheek, stepped away and bent to pick up his clothes. “We were extremely lucky hunger and the magic didn't get the better of me."
"I think self control had more to do with it than luck."
"Maybe. But I won't be so foolish next time."
Next time, hopefully, they'd be free of Dunleavy's magic, and there wouldn't be a need to be careful.
“Watch yourself out there. Dunleavy's going to be a little pissed about us destroying another of his pentagrams."
He nodded and zipped up his pants. “I want you to walk around the house and make sure all the windows and doors are locked."
She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Dunleavy's a vampire. He can't come into a house unless invited."
"Maybe. But we don't yet know what, exactly, Kinnard is, and I'd rather he didn't know you're here alone."
"He's going to know that if he sees you outside."
"I'll blur, so he won't even see me."
She had a suspicion Kinnard knew exactly what they were up to, no matter what they were doing. She flicked a knife down into her palm then flipped it, handing it to him hilt first. “Take this with you. It's silver, so no matter what Kinnard is, it'll affect him."
"I do not need a weapon to take care of a worm like Kinnard."
"That worm is too cagey to let you get anywhere near him. At least you might be able to throw the knife and nick him."