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“I can be whatever I want to be, bat boy.”
“Not after I’m through with you. Then you’ll be whatever I want you to be. For all eternity.”
Kat flashed me a grin, her eyes dark and daring. “Good luck.”
“Is that a challenge?”
She stepped toward me. “Can I confess something to you?”
Then she continued without my permission, running her hand over my biceps. “I am very good at people. I can read a room in a second. I hate them all, don’t get me wrong. But I’m good.” She leaned into me, her hips pressing against me just firmly enough to arouse what would be her greatest nightmare. “And I think—actually, I know—that you aren’t going to turn me. Because that would make me immortal, coffincake. Immortal and haunting you every day and every night. And your biggest fear is commitment, isn’t it?” She plucked my lips. “You don’t want to be stuck with me forever. Because you know you’ll love it.”
“Over there,” I said, pointing to a large oak tree. “In the shadows.” I put my hands on her waist and steered her forward. The words she said were too ridiculous to bother me much. I wasn’t afraid of anything. Love wasn’t some curse. It wasn’t real. I turned her around and shoved her back against the bark of the tree, and slid my hands up her thigh, scratching my fingers along the leggings that kept me from her bare skin.
I kissed her mouth first, taking my time with my tongue as I explored her darkness. I rarely ever rushed. All the time in the world was mine, after all. I put my hand on her jaw, clenching just a bit to keep her still, to angle her the way I preferred. She was so willing I could taste it. Such openness changed the very fragrance of her blood. The flavor would be incomparable.
But if a source desired to be devoured, and if I was able to bring them to the place of purest delight, I would be rewarded by the most exquisite dining experience of them all.
“Invite me in.”
Kat dug her fingernails into the back of my neck, her legs parted as she pulled me closer. “You sure you’re ready?”
I squeezed my hand tighter, so her jaw could hardly open. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, little Kat.” I slipped my fingers into her underwear. “Remember to breathe. Final breaths are the most succulent.”
Episode 5: Bubbler
I remembered the first time I tasted a woman’s blood. It was terrifying then, to think of what I’d become. To realize that the coppery taste flowing down my throat was truly divine. Even after the number of women I’d had, and the number of years I’d spent drinking, the sheer beauty of their blood still surprised me.
Kat’s blood...I wished it was no different than anyone else’s. But there was something deeper, something sweeter. And when she moaned with her back against that tree and when I tilted her chin up, I knew I’d never savored something so wicked and pure. I gasped when my fangs plunged into her neck, when her blood hit my tongue. And I wanted nothing more than to finish. Then to drain her dry. An unmistakable urge not to replicate myself, not to extend my clan’s power, but to have her to drink for all my eternal days.
Her nails digging into the back of my neck provided exquisite motivation and I was fully prepared to take my vampiric efforts deeper inside her if she so desired it.
“What the...?! This is a gravesite!”
A groundskeeper or someone dared attempt to interrupt us. Dared involve himself in my conquest. “Wait here while I demolish him,” I told the sweet one, pulling my fangs from her perfect neck.
“No,” she sighed. “Ignore him.” She bit her own lip. “I want more...”
But the bastard turned a hose on us. There were enough shadows for me to shift through them to take his soggy little life, but Kat grabbed my arm and tugged me back toward the car.
“I’m not going to prison for a graveyard groundskeeper. Come on.”
“But he was both insolent and insufferable. He must endure my wrath.”
“And I have business back at the office. Come.”
I growled at her. “You are commanding me?”
“No.” She swiped the trickle of blood dripping down her neck. “Well...a little.”
“You cannot. I am—”
“The Prince of Vampires.”
“Yes.”
“Who is too afraid to turn me.”
“That’s not—”
