Tempted by Fire (Hunters Among Us, Book 1) by M.D. Bowden

Author:M.D. Bowden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, vampires, vampire, paranormal, university, young adult, werewolf, werewolves, teen, london

Chapter 9: True Colours

I LET HIM drag me toward the bar. He doesn’t let go of my hand, thrilling me with the gentle circles as he plays with my palm. At the door to the pub he pulls me closer to him, my stomach pressing against his, and he meets my eye. I can see flames dancing within the blue.

Ever so slowly he lowers his head, as he entwines his free hand around my waist, under my coat. The air between us simmers with electricity, my body humming with anticipation.

The pub door opens, blasting warm air on my face, breaking the moment. Aaron catches the door as two well wrapped men leave.

“Later,” he whispers, in my ear; so only I can hear.

I let him lead me to the bar, even though the last place I want to be is surrounded by noisy boozy people. The thing I want most . . .

“What would you like to drink?” he says, his voice caressing my skin like he’s all over me, inside me.

Reluctantly my eyes leave his firm body, and I skim the bar for ideas. A cocktail poster catches my eye and I say—“A Margarita please,” barely thinking straight.

He orders two.

As the bartender makes our drinks Aaron doesn’t so much as stop caressing me; it’s driving my body crazy, my mind wild.

A surge of young males push us closer to the bar, and Aaron shifts his weight, not letting go of my hand, but he leans my back against his body, sliding his free hand around my waist and holding me firmly against his chest. He runs his mouth from my chin to my ear, and I feel his breath on my skin, smell his breath on the air—sweet, fragrant. He inhales deeply at my neck, pulling my body even tighter against his.

The bartender slides our drinks across polished wood, and Aaron hands him a note. Letting go of my waist he passes me one chilled and salted Margarita. Taking the other drink, he pulls me back into the crowd, not bothering to wait for change.

He guides me toward a curving bench, high backed, at a circular table. The bench opposite is already occupied by a couple of female students, lost in conversation; they barely notice us. Aaron motions for me to go in first. He slides in next to me.

He lets me go so I can slip out of my cold weather gear. I let my eyes feast on his body as he removes his jacket—all he’s wearing underneath is a tight black t-shirt. His cerulean eyes meet mine and he smiles. My heart flips. I can’t keep away from him, and as he lifts his arm I slide into his embrace; more than willing.

“Drink,” he orders, not brutally—his voice laced with silk.

I comply with his wishes, and can’t help but enjoy the salty sour tang. Feeling giddy; I drain the glass, and he slides the second before me.

“Are you a student?” he asks, his voice low, but carrying clearly over the background rumble, as though everyone but us has faded away.

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