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Chapter 21

Charlotte pulled the covers closer, a draft at her back waking her. No, not just a draft.

A hand.

Gliding across her arm . . . caressing her softly.

She spun around. “How did you get in here?”

Torr pressed his finger to her lips as she worked out the answer. The window was open a crack. He’d come in through the fire escape and was sitting on her bed.

Charlotte watched as he lifted her old T-shirt—she’d have worn something a bit sexier had she known he’d turn up in her bed—above her head, the moonlight his guide.

Wordlessly, he continued to undress her.

Taking off his own shirt, Torr proceeded to move between her legs, slow and methodical. No wonder they called him the Hunter, though Charlotte doubted his prey were typically as willing as she.

His kissed her then, so tenderly Charlotte didn’t ever want him to stop. But he did. Moving lower, he kissed her neck and chest, then each breast, as reverently as if she were made of something so delicate it would shatter at too rough a touch.

Lower and lower still until he was between her legs. Pushing her knees to the side, he looked up one last time, his cheeks unshaven.

He knew she liked his scruff, and so he’d kept it.

Good thing, because as it scraped against her legs, the scratch of it sent tingles straight to her core. And then he was there, his tongue moving expertly as she gripped the comforter for leverage.

She’d give him one thing.

Centuries of practice had certainly paid off. He knew how to pleasure a woman, even if she didn’t care to dwell on how he’d come by that knowledge. His fingers dug into the flesh of her legs as she lifted her buttocks from the bed. When he moaned, as if feeling her pleasure, Charlotte lost it. Slowly at first, the pulsations building and then exploding. Shattering. The noise? Apparently her. But Charlotte couldn’t care less if every person in the apartment building could hear her right now.

Nothing mattered but Torr and this moment.

Every muscle in her body clenched as his words came back to her.

You want me to turn you, but you have no idea what you’re asking.

“Feed from me,” she blurted.

Torr’s blessedly handsome head lifted from between her legs, but he was no longer smiling.

“Charlotte—”

“Please.”

She knew what they were getting into. By this point, she was well-versed in the effects of a vampire bite. The Balance ensured a vampire’s victim would feel no pain—and that they would not remember the incident. Only after many feedings would the fog begin to lift. Alessandra was unique; the fog had never come for her. Toni was beginning to remember more and more each time.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice firm.

The sight of him poised between her legs, the contrast between his bright eyes and the dark shadow gracing his cheeks, nearly proved too much for her. The anticipation she felt didn’t help matters, because she knew the experience could be an erotic one.

“Bite me already,” she said, impatient. When he dropped his fangs, her heart began to race.

He was going to do it.

Did that mean he was softening on his stance about turning her too?

“It won’t hurt but—”

“I won’t remember. I know. Doesn’t matter. I’m ready.”