The Real Werewives of Vampire County

“Lucien.” I about fell over with relief.

He wore no shirt, which was a total waste because at that moment I knew I wasn’t fully appreciating his fine vampire self. I also liked the concern I saw in his eyes. Sue me. It felt kind of good that someone cared whether or not I passed out next to the fake tiki hut.

“It’s done,” I murmured as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m wiped.”

Wait. I thought about resisting as he pulled me close against his chest, but then again—I wasn’t crazy.

I supposed I should have been trying to keep my distance from him, but at that moment, I didn’t give a rip.

My cheek rested against Lucien’s chest and something warm pooled inside me.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here,” he said as he drew away and helped me down the hall.

He didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t push me. He just walked with me. And as soon as we’d cleared the threshold of Francine’s house, he picked me up and carried me home.

“I can stand,” I insisted as Lucien kicked our front door closed.

“Leave it to me,” he said, as we headed for the stairs.

You’re not listening, I protested, or maybe I just thought it as he carried me up the steps like a child, all the way to his room.

His bed was an ornate cherry wood antique with bloodred sheets. “I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I groaned.

“Of course not,” he said, easing me into the soft mattress and stretching out next to me. “Advil?”

My head hurt too much to argue. “Better make it a double.”

He fetched me four pills and a chaser of water. I swallowed them down and wished he could just knock me out. “I feel like I got hit by a garbage truck.”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to me. “Is it always this bad?”

“No.” I’d pushed myself hard tonight. “Go away.” That’s what my pack did at this point. They cleared out and left me to my pain.

He stood. The lights dimmed and I thought that would be the end of him, but Lucien came back. “Where does it hurt?” he asked, the bed creaking under his weight.

“My head.”

His cool hands slid across my cheeks as if he were preparing to play a delicate instrument. His fingertips found my aching temples and lingered, rubbing hypnotic circles until I felt the tension loosen.

He kept on. Every thought I had focused on the way his hands soothed me. I shouldn’t have let him touch me like that. No one else did. Why should he be any different? He was vampire. Not pack.

He was dead. He was a Predator.

I swallowed and let him touch. To hell with it. I needed this.

His hands moved through my hair, over my aching head, sending tiny chills down my body.

“Not my neck,” I murmured.

“No worries.” I heard him grin as the palm of his hand slid down the back of my head to rest at the aching spot at the top of my spine.

He wasn’t going to bite me. I knew that somehow. And as soon as I decided, I tried to shove it out of my mind. I didn’t want to think of him any other way. I needed him to be a Predator. I was good at having enemies. The rest was too hard to figure out, especially right now.

His hands found my shoulders.

I rolled onto my stomach and let him dig his strong fingers into my aching muscles. Good lord, I hadn’t been petted in a long time. Ever, really. Damn, it felt good.

His hands found the edges of my silk top and I let him strip it off. The air felt wonderfully cool against my skin, his fingers soothing.

I floated above the pain, focusing only on Lucien’s touch. He worked the muscles along my spine, easing away the tension.

He found the back of my bra. “Take it off,” I ordered. My voice betrayed none of the shakiness I felt.

It was no big deal to be naked around pack. But it was different with Lucien. I knew that now.

Still, I needed his skin against mine. It was a werewolf thing. It had nothing to do with the way he was touching me.

The pain had eased somewhat, replaced by … what—comfort? No, it was more than that.

I had the sudden, maddening urge to touch him back.

Gah. I shoved both hands under my pillow. “Take it off,” I said, voice muffled by the pillow. I wanted to feel his hands and nothing else.

“Heather,” he said, his voice husky.

“Please,” I said, before I could change my mind.

I closed my eyes as his hands slid up either side of my chest, skimming the outer edges of my br**sts. Awareness pricked me as his fingertips lingered above my ni**les. It was everything I could do not to press forward against his hands.

He wanted to touch me. I knew he did.

I wanted it, too. But it would change everything.

Lucien was too much of a gentleman to press me. Damn it. I let him slip my bra off.

I didn’t even care about my lucky boot knife.

Right now that didn’t matter. Nothing did.

I was facedown, half-naked under a vampire and I didn’t care.

Scratch that.

I wanted him.

It would be so easy to roll over and let him run his hands over my br**sts, my stomach, and every other part of me that ached for him.

“Lucien.” I felt the weight of him on the backs of my thighs as I turned over on the bed.

I couldn’t help smiling at his hunger.

“Watch it, werewolf.” He stroked a finger down my cheek, over the pulse of my neck and down to my breast. My breath caught as he found my nipple.

Our eyes met.

His faltered.

“Not like this,” he whispered, pulling the covers over my body.

The crisp white sheets felt smothering. “What do you mean?” I started to sit up until the pounding in my head returned, or maybe it had never stopped and I just hadn’t noticed.

“You’re hurt,” he said, as if that would keep me from wanting to see him naked.

“I’m going to be more hurt in a minute.” My body was screaming with frustration.

He made it worse by pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then to the soft spot in front of my ear.

I sighed. “You like to torture me, don’t you?”

“More than you’ll ever know.” He settled in next to me. “Sleep.” He pressed against my back until he was spooning me in the most delicious way. It was warm, protective. It felt like the pack I’d never had.

“Lucien, I—”

“You need to rest, Heather.” He nuzzled his chin on my shoulder. “You did too much.”

“But—” He was so close.