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“Fuck, princess.”
His lips are on mine, his tongue prying them open.I’m falling—falling into the depths of the hotel mattress, falling into—
He rips away from me.“No!Damn it, no!”
I lick my lips, taste his tongue, the spice and wolf.
“Fuck.”He rubs at his forehead.“Damn.My blood.I taste my own fucking blood.”
I lick my lips again.I still taste his blood, but now it’s mingled with the taste of him.Of our kiss.God, it’s ambrosia.
“This can’t happen,” he says.“I can’t like the taste of my own blood on you.”
“You couldn’t smell it,” I say absently, the image of Rogan bringing the bandana to his nose forever imprinted in my mind.
“I can sure as hell taste it,” he say, “and I don’t like it.I don’t like it.”
My heart falls, but he continues.
“I don’t like…that Ilikeit, princess.I like—I fuckinglove—the taste of my blood on you.Fuck it all.”His lips come down on mine again.
My mind goes blank.
No, can’t lose myself.
There’s a reason I’m here.My father needs information.Information about the vamp murders.Rogan’s bite marks.
Right.That’s why I’m here.
Doesn’t matter, though.Nothing matters except Rogan and his tongue tangling with mine, his body on top of mine, his bulging cock pressing into me.
I’m fully satiated with blood now, so my body is craving the rest of him.His lips, teeth.His mouth on my breasts, his tongue between my legs.
And his cock.That perfect fucking cock.
How is this even happening?I came here to seduce him for information, not fall prey to him.
He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.
He says I’m his mate.Okay.I can deal.Wolves sometimes have fated mates.
But I’m not a wolf.I’m a vampire-human hybrid.Wedon’thave fated mates.Not ever.
So what the hell is happening tome?
I gather every bit of strength inside me and push at Rogan’s chest so hard he lands with athunkon the floor beside the bed.
“What the fuck, princess?”
“Hannah.”I wipe my mouth.“The name isHannah.”
He gazes into my eyes, and I shudder involuntarily.Wolves don’t have glamouring ability, but damn, I feel like I’m being hypnotized by those green-gold irises.
“Hannah,” he growls.“I know your fucking name.Hannah Tabitha Bates.That’s your name, princess.”
Another shudder, and this one rocks through me like a freaking tidal wave.He’s fully clothed, on the floor, not touching me in any way, but my clit responds.Already I’m getting wetter.
He rises, sits next to me on the bed, and leans down until only inches separate our faces.“And my name is Victor.Say it, princess.Say my name.”
