Blood Lust: Vampire's Choice Paranormal Romance #1

Author:V. M. Black [Black, V. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swift River Media Group
Published: 2015-05-04T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I stood with my palms against the closed door, able to feel her on the other side, able to taste the turmoil of her heart and smell her desire. My hands curled into fists as I imagined myself yanking the door open, dragging her out as she begged for me to take her—

I pushed off the door and stepped back, then back again, away from the temptation. What I wanted was not right. I had chosen the purest path my black soul would allow me to take, and I knew I must stay true to it.

Much more than my life depended on it.

So I retreated across the room, almost to the door, and I forced myself to wait for the decision that I knew she must make. Already, I was taking her blood and possibly her life. That was far too much, and I could no longer let myself take more.

The door opened, and she stepped out, clad in a white robe that bared her arms and neck. She was slightly unsteady on her slipper-clad feet, looking so wide-eyed and lost that I hurt to see her.

“Ms. Shaw,” I said—using her name again with deliberation. It might be the end of her, this night. It might be the end of me. No matter how interchangeable she proved to be if I was wrong, she deserved to be recognized by her name now.

She swayed as I spoke her name, as if it had power over her. And it did—the power of what was between us, the mastery of the agnate and the subservience of the human in his presence.

She would do anything for me. Anything at all. It was in her nature, just as it was in the nature of a lion to hunt and a gazelle to flee. But I would not take from her more than I must. Even if it killed me.

“Come forward, Ms. Shaw,” I said to her.

She did, almost stumbling, all but rushing to my arms as I knew that she’d craved to do since she had first stepped into my office. She stopped an inch from my body, quivering before me, and I raised a hand to cup her cheek.

Instantly, she turned her face into my palm, breathing it, touching it in an almost-kiss as light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing.

Every kind of need surged through me, my hunger for her blood and for her body in every carnal sense. I wanted to take and take what she would give until nothing was left.

And she would give—until her last breath.

“You poor child,” I murmured, the words catching in my throat as she looked at me with her desire raw on her face.

“Please,” she said, her lips brushing the pad of my thumb. “I want to live.”

“I want you to live, too,” I said, exultation and grief surging through me in equal parts. “May God have mercy on me.”

Then I slid my hand to the back of her head, threading my fingers in the thick brown hair I’d wanted to touch since the first moment that I’d laid eyes on her.

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