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“Did, too.”
“Actually, the whole point is moot, because I am the big, strong vampire and I’m going to bang you like a drum.”
“Well, I’m the witch and I say…” He thrust his cock deep. “Wow.”
Galahad grinned and rolled his hips. “I aim to please.”
“Ooohhhhh. You don’t need much recovery time, do you?”
“Nope.” Another breathtaking thrust.
The double sensation of her pleasure and his made her arch her head into the pillow. Hunger ripped over her, so sudden and hot the teasing mood died a quick death. She slung both legs over his working butt and grabbed his shoulders, sinking her nails deep.
Fiercely they ground against one another, the unbearable delight whipping through their bodies with every thrust.
Goaded, driven, they thrust and thrust and…
Detonation.
Hot, sweet waves poured over them, burning and delicious until they were left spent, curled together in a sweating heap.
Long moments went by before Caroline was capable of speech. “Damn. Is it going to be like that every time?”
“I hope not. I’ll starve.” He’d been so intent on taking her, he hadn’t wanted to stop long enough to feed.
She laughed. “You romantic, you.”
I love you.
The thought, coming out of nowhere, made her blink. She blinked again when she realized he meant it.
What was more, she loved him, too. Caroline sensed the wave of satisfaction from him at the thought.
But that’s just not possible, she protested. We’ve only known each other…the Truebond.
Galahad rolled off her and pulled her onto his chest. I’d have fallen in love with you anyway. He grinned up at her, his smoky blue eyes wicked. “You’re loveable.”
“But I’m just a schoolteacher, and you’re you. I…” She broke off, realizing she didn’t even believe that anymore. If she’d been ordinary…
“You’d never have survived the Truebond with me. Hell, you wouldn’t have come to get me to begin with. You’d have hidden in your little house and pretended you hadn’t seen a damn thing.” His expression grew grim. “And those bastard vampires would have handed Arthur, Morgana, and Lancelot their heads.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. Then her voice strengthened. “I love you, Galahad.”
“I love you, Caroline.” He drew her close, his eyes dark and deep as they met hers. “Marry me.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Hungrily, she kissed him.
NEITHER of them saw Soren fly past the barrier spell. Twisting his head around, he grinned at Morgana, who sat astride his neck. “I do good work.”
“We do good work.” She turned to look through the barrier at the couple entwined in passion, then gave him a wicked smile. “Would you like to do a little more?”
A hot light appeared in the dragon’s eyes. “Oh, yes. But this time, you change form.”
Morgana sighed. “Very well. But you make such a lovely man.” She twisted, let herself fall from his back, and transformed, great wings beating.
He admired her sleek black scales. “You’re not so bad yourself. Come here.”
She gave him a toothy dragon smile and soared away with a tempting flick of her tail. “Only if you can catch me.”
“Ah, I do love a woman who plays hard to get….” He flew off after her into the glowing Mageverse night.
BLOOD LUST
Vickie Taylor
Prologue
THE silver toe cap on the end of the black snakeskin cowboy boot gleamed under the harsh laboratory lights as it rushed toward Daniel Hart’s face. He lurched away, but not before the sharp metal point laid open his cheek. His head snapped back. Blood arced above him, then splattered down on his lab coat like crimson rain as he rolled to a stop on the tile floor.
Bruised and battered, his stomach throwing up into his throat the remnants of the pizza he’d eaten at his desk an hour ago, he shifted to lay flat on his face and planted his palms out beside his shoulders, inhaling the mingled scents of industrial cleaner and blood while he gathered the strength to lever himself up.
Before he could move, another kick flipped him backward. He grunted, and another blow spun him in midair, then another.
His world became a blurry haze of stainless steel tables crashing to the floor, glass beakers shattering, instruments flying overhead in a whirlwind of violence and pain, and yet all he could think about was the work he’d dedicated the last three years of his life to. The delicate tests ruined. The data lost.
Well, almost all he could think of. There was the other matter of a few broken ribs, lacerations, assorted contusions and possibly some internal bleeding to occupy a small portion of his mind, but it all seemed far away, as if it were happening to someone else.
He rolled with another vicious kick, came to rest under the whiteboard filled with chemical equations on the far wall and curled his knees up to protect his abdomen. Something had torn inside him that time. His belly convulsed, his insides wringing like a dishrag. His breath rattled in his chest.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked clumsily, his tongue thick, bloody. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with me?” The hem of Garth LaGrange’s black duster swished over his boots as they scuffed the floor just inches from Daniel’s face. He threw his hands in the air and cackled maniacally. “What is wrong with me? Nothing is wrong with me. For the first time in centuries, something is very, very right!”
Centuries? He’d known Garth was a little weird since he’d met him six months ago, but since the man with the penchant for black clothing and late-night business meetings had been the only one who’d stepped up to fund Daniel’s research, he’d been willing to overlook a few…eccentricities. Suddenly he wished he’d taken the time to check out his benefactor more carefully. Looked into a few of the more pertinent details of his life.
Like the fact that he was whacked out of his mind.
Pain speared through Daniel, a lightning bolt that struck from his navel to his spine. He clenched his fist around the leg of the table near his head and rode the wave. “Why are you doing this?” he asked again. “What do you want?”
It galled him to lie helpless while Garth stomped through his lab like an angry child knocking over Tinker Toys, but at six foot eight, the guy had a good six inches on him, and who’d have guessed a man built like an underfed flagpole would have the strength of a bull ox? At one hundred and ninety pounds himself, Daniel was no featherweight, yet Garth had tossed him around the room—repeatedly—without breaking a sweat.
“What do I want?” Garth squatted next to Daniel and grinned wickedly. “I want it all. I want the world at my feet.”
“You’ve lost it.” Shaking his head, Daniel dragged himself sideways, along the wall. “You’re nuts, man.”
Garth’s face darkened. A scowl scrawled across his lips as he tracked Daniel’s progress toward the door. Dropping his arms to his sides, he took a measured step toward Daniel, then another. “You’re right. I’m crazy.”
He leaned over until his pasty face hovered at the end of Daniel’s nose. His breath brought a new wave of bile up Daniel’s throat. “After eighteen months of listening to your constant stream of mind-numbing, medico-scientific mumbo jumbo, I’M A RAVING FUCKING LUNATIC!”
Daniel couldn’t disagree with that, though he took issue with the cause. He tightened his arms over his ribs, expecting another blow, but Garth spun away with a flourish of his long coat.
“Oh Daniel, you’re so smart,” he mocked the praise he’d showered over Daniel so freely in the past. “Oh Daniel, you’re so dedicated.”
Halfway across the lab, he turned. “I cozied up to you. I coddled you. When what I really wanted to do was—”
His face twisted in rage, he made a circle in the air with his hands, as if he were choking an invisible neck, and for the first time, Daniel noticed how long the man’s thumbnails were. Thick and yellow, they curved out two inches beyond the ends of his digits, where they sharpened to pinpoints.
Gross, but Daniel didn’t have time to contemplate Garth’s personal hygiene, because he finally figured out what he should have known all along. Garth had never believed in his research. Never been as excited as Daniel about the potential to help people, to further the greater good.
