Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(68)
Author: Gena Showalter

By staking the verbal claim, the meal did indeed become his. He watched understanding light her eyes.

“Oh, cool.” She didn’t hesitate to rip into the burger, every crumb gone in seconds. Next he sipped the chocolate shake. The sugar was almost obscene in his mouth, and he did gag. “Mine,” he repeated faintly, giving it to her, as well. “But next time, please request a healthier meal.”

She flipped him off as she gulped back the ice cream. “More.”

He bypassed the French fries. No way was he going to defile his body with one of those greasy abominations. He found an apple, a pear, but had to request a stalk of broccoli himself. After claiming them, he took a bite of each and handed them over. Much better.

Bianka devoured them. Well, except for the broccoli. That, she threw at him. “I’m a carnivore, moron.”

She hardly had to remind him when the unpleasant taste of the burger lingered on his tongue. Still, he chose to overlook her mockery. “All of the food produced in this home is mine. Mine and mine alone. You are to leave it alone.”

“That’d be great if I were actually staying,” she muttered while stuffing the fries in her mouth.

He sighed. She would accept her fate soon enough. She would have to.

The more she ate, the more radiant her skin became. Magnificent, he thought, reaching out before he could stop himself.

She grabbed his fingers and twisted just before contact. “Nope. I don’t like you, so you don’t get to handle the goods.”

He experienced a sharp pain, but merely blinked over at her. “My apologies,” he said stiffly. Thank the One True Deity she’d stopped him. No telling what he would have done to her had he actually touched her. Behaved like a slobbering human? He shuddered.

She shrugged and released him. “Now for my second order. Let me go home.” As she spoke, she assumed a battle stance. Legs braced apart, hands fisted at her sides.

He mirrored her movements, refusing to admit, even to himself, that her bravery heated his traitorous blood another degree. “You cannot hurt me, Harpy. Fighting me would be pointless.”

Slowly her lips curled into a devilish grin. “Who said I was going to try and hurt you?”

Before Lysander could blink, she closed the distance between them and pressed against him, arms winding around his neck and tugging his head down. Their lips met and her tongue thrust into his mouth. Automatically, he stiffened. He had seen humans kiss more times than he could count, but he’d never longed to try the act for himself.

Like sex, it seemed messy—in every way imaginable—and unnecessary. But as her tongue rolled against his, as her hands caressed a path down his spine, his body warmed—far more than it had when he’d simply thought of being here with her—and the tingle he’d noticed earlier bloomed once more. Only this time, that tingle grew and spread. Like the shaft between his legs. Rising…thickening…

He’d wanted to taste her and now he was. She was delicious, like the apple she’d just eaten, only sweeter, headier, like his favorite wine. He should make her stop. This was too much. But the wetness of her mouth wasn’t messy in the least. It was electrifying.

More, a little voice said in his head.

“Yes,” she rasped, as if he’d spoken aloud.

When she rubbed her lower body against his, every sensation intensified. His hands fisted at his sides. He couldn’t touch her. Shouldn’t touch her. Should stop this as she’d stopped him, as he’d already tried to convince himself.

A moan escaped her. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His scalp, an area he’d never considered sensitive before, ached, soaking up every bit of attention. And when she rubbed against him again, he almost moaned.

Her hands fell to his chest and a fingertip brushed one of his ni**les. He did moan; he did grab her. His fingers gripped her hips, holding her still even though he wanted to force her to rub against him some more. The lack of motion didn’t slow her kiss. She continued to dance their tongues together, leisurely, as if she could drink from him forever. And wanted to.

He should stop this, he told himself yet again.

Yes. Yes, he would. He tried to push her tongue out of his mouth. The pressure created another sensation, this one new and stronger than any other. His entire body felt aflame. He started pushing at her tongue for an entirely different reason, twining them together, tasting her again, licking her, sucking her.

“Mmm, yeah. That’s the way,” she praised.

Her voice was a drug, luring him in deeper, making him crave more. More, more, more. The temptation was too much, and he had to—

Temptation.

The word echoed through his mind, a sword sharp enough to cut bone. She was a temptation. She was his temptation. And he was allowing her to lead him astray.

He wrenched away from her, and his arms fell to his sides, heavy as boulders. He was panting, sweating, things he had not done even in the midst of battle. Angry as he was—at her, at himself—his gaze drank in the sight of her. Her skin was flushed, glowing more than ever. Her lips were red and swollen. And he had caused that reaction. Sparks of pride took him by surprise.

“You should not have done that,” he growled.

Slowly, she grinned. “Well, you should have stopped me.”

“I wanted to stop you.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, that grin growing.

His teeth ground together. “Do not do it again.”

One of her brows arched in smug challenge. “Keep me here against my will, and I’ll do that and more. Much, much more. In fact…” She ripped her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, revealing br**sts covered by pink lace.

Breathing became impossible.

“Want to touch them?” she asked huskily, cupping them with her hands. “I’ll let you. I won’t even make you beg.”

Holy…Lord. They were lovely. Plump and mouthwatering. Lickable. And if he did lick them, would they taste as her mouth had? Like that heady wine? Blood…heating…again…

He didn’t care what kind of coward his next action made him. It was either jump from the cloud or replace her hands with his own.

He jumped.

CHAPTER FOUR

LYSANDER LEFT BIANKA alone for another week—bastard!—but she didn’t mind. Not this time. She had plenty to keep her occupied. Like her plan to drive him utterly insane with lust. So insane he’d regret bringing her here. Regret keeping her here. Regret even being alive.

That, or fall so in love with her that he yearned to grant her every desire. If that was the case—and it was a total possibility since she was insanely hot—she would convince him to take her home, and then she would finally get to stab him in the heart.