I follow her into the dark room and close the door with a click, then turn the lock. The silence that settles around us is heavy. My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, but before I can move across the room to light the hearth, Maeve already has a flicker of fire in her palm, and she uses it to light the candles on the small table. The flames dance, casting soft light and deep shadow across the quaint room.
Maeve closes her palm, smothering the flame, then slowly assesses the space.
It’s one of the nicer rooms the tavern had to offer, but it’s still humble, with a single table hugged by two chairs, a hearth for warmth, a wardrobe, and a bed.
Which is where her focus seems to go.
Then her eyes lift to mine, and a full shiver goes down my body.
I’ve never felt like prey before—I’m built to be the predator—but with the way Maeve is looking at me right now, I feel like I’m the one who needs to flee. I consider reaching for the locked door and escaping into the hallway before we do something we can’t come back from.
“Come here,” she says, voice both soft and demanding.
Her command makes my pulse stutter. But I stay rooted to the spot.
“Maeve,” I say, voice low, “are you certain you want to do this?”
She pops a hip at me, dark violet eyes narrowing. “Yes. Are you?”
My jaw feels tight. “No.”
Not for the first time, she surprises me by not reacting in the way I expected.
“You’re afraid,” she says. She takes one step toward me, then another. Each soft thump of her footsteps makes my body coil tighter, like it’s considering whether to fight or flee. “But what are you afraid of?” Now she’s right in front of me, and she reaches out with one hand to touch my chest. Her palm presses against my sternum, and I catch my breath.
“Of you,” I whisper. Then, before I can stop it, the truth spills out. “Of losing control with you. Losing control of myself.”
Something knowing and understanding flickers across Maeve’s expression. She appears thoughtful for a moment, lost in her own mind. Then she meets my gaze again.
“Then let’s lose control together.”
I search her face, trying to find any hint of trepidation. When I don’t find any, I try one final time to convince her away from this, fromme.
“I’m too old for you.”
Her laugh is sudden and intoxicating. “You’re too old for everyone.”
I narrow my eyes at that comment.
Then she pulls me in, curling her fingers into my jacket and pressing her lips to mine. With that one kiss, my attempt at stopping this completely fails.
My hands find her waist, and I lift her into my arms, one arm around her back and the other beneath her legs. She lets out a breath of surprise, then smiles against my lips, but she doesn’t break the kiss. I carry her across the candlelit room and settle us both onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dips beneath us, soft and welcoming.
As I lean back to look at Maeve’s face, she reaches up to remove my mask. Her fingers are warm as they move through my hair, and then she pulls the ribbon holding the mask on, and it comes away in her fingers.
Then I do the same for her, and when I remove it from her face and she blinks up at me, I feel something deep and painful thrum inside my chest.
Like looking at her is physically dangerous to me. Like I’m slipping into perilous territory every time her eyes meet mine.
But there’s no turning back now.
Maeve pushes up from the bed, moving to stand between my knees. She reaches for the thin straps of her black dress, and my throat goes dry as she eases each strap down slowly. Then she shimmies the dress down the length of her body, and with each inch of skin she reveals to me, I grow hungrier for her, my cock getting hard at the sight of her pale skin, her subtle curves, the way the candlelight dances across her.
My fangs beg me to sink them into her throat, where I can still see her pulse thrumming. I curl my fingers into fists atop my knees, resisting the urge.
Maeve drops the dress around her feet, wearing thin black panties but nothing else. Her breasts hang there before me, full and beautiful. I’ve felt them before, that day in my office, but to see them...
I can’t help myself. I take her around the waist and tug her closer, until she’s close enough that I can take one of her breasts into my mouth. Her skin is silky smooth, like butter. I drag my tongue across her nipple, and she moans as it hardens in my mouth. Then her hand is on the back of my head, pressing my lips against her more firmly, demanding I pleasure her.
