Gravedigger by Aurelia T Evans

Author:Aurelia T Evans [Evans, Aurelia T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Fletch

When had the moon started gleaming as brightly as the sun? When had snowfall given way to the fire under his skin? When had one of the dead started rising, walking and kissing him as though she were drinking from him?

When had he given in?

And when had his father’s voice gone miraculously silent?

Fletch didn’t know exactly when any of those things had happened, only that the last one had occurred sometime around the point Ivory had pierced his neck with her fangs. Her vampire kiss was the most intense, arousing experience he’d ever had, bar none—not even those wonderful, terrible mornings after the dreams, nor the rushed pulls in the bath that he still gasped through in shame and pleasure even though his father couldn’t catch him anymore.

Her bite had been everything his father had warned him about, with her over him and inside him, drawing him into her mouth. In spite of her injuries, she’d rendered him weak, utterly helpless, even violated his mouth, and Fletch had practically begged.

He would have gone happily to his death.

But she hadn’t killed him. When she’d unsheathed herself from his neck, he’d simply been hazy, and his neck had truly felt like some beast had bitten into it once the spell of the bite had worn off.

Yet she hadn’t drained him dry. Nor had she snapped his neck while he’d been pliant and prostrate beneath her. Ivory had let him up and stared at him with those black eyes, fangs dripping blood—his blood—over her lips and chin and down to her succulent breasts.

She was a monster. A killer. And yet she hadn’t killed him. There she was, hiding behind none of the camouflage of the predatory monster she was, not even pretending to be human for him.

Ivory was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off, drag her to his bed and offer her his body to do with as she pleased.

But now he was truly confused. His father might have stopped speaking in Fletch’s head, but Fletch experienced his absence even more keenly than his presence.

Had his father abandoned him because Ivory wasn’t the monster that Warner had said she was? Or had his father turned away because Fletch had sacrificed his purity for momentary pleasure from a particularly cunning devil?

She was a snake of the devil’s pit. She was trying to draw him away from what was right and good and pure, and he’d told himself he was going to fight it, fight her, even if he had to die—for she was already stronger than him. He would rather die for the Lord than willingly offer his soul to Ivory.

He’d tried. He really had tried. He’d tried to rekindle the fervor, the certainty, the power of conviction. But Ivory’s loveliness in her monstrosity hadn’t changed. Instead of Fletch felling her with his strength, she’d thrown her head back against the door and whimpered with a woman’s pleasure. He’d defeated her in a way that defeated himself as well.

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