By Laurann Dohner
Scarred and Kilt Matty has a brand new neighbor, and she or he strongly suspects the kilt-wearing hottie is a vampire— he merely is going out at evening, has bizarre viewers and the blood financial institution is making common deliveries. yet he doesn’t appear to damage someone, so “live and enable dwell” is Matty’s motto. till she sees a man armed with crosses and wood stakes breaking into the neighbor’s residence. Matty fees to the rescue— and results in Mr. Hottie’s bed…and on his desk…and… Lacey and deadly Lacey hunts vampires—vile monsters who depart dying and shattered lives of their wake. They murdered her sister and she or he desires revenge. until eventually she captures an enormous, horny blue-eyed vamp, and the robust appeal she feels contradicts every little thing she’s develop into. yet she can’t withstand getting nearer. deadly can’t think the little lass bought the higher of him. He’s been drugged and chained, yet he’s extra insulted than involved. She swears he’s her enemy, yet he’s made up our minds to be her lover. Mine to Chase Jasmine met the man of her desires, who regrettably wasn’t . She’s spent a yr choked with lustful fantasies and soul-deep craving for a guy who doesn’t wish her. Now she’s locked away in a depressing gap, abducted via a madman, her lifestyles virtually over. She was once presupposed to be his a yr in the past, yet Chase had walked away to guard her from his international. He’s a mixed-breed—vampire and werewolf—and his record of enemies is unending. His present undertaking is to seek down and kill a rogue vamp who’s preying on people, yet what Chase unearths alterations every thing. Jasmine’s one of many sufferers. intuition calls for he safeguard her, own her. He won’t be denied back. This time, she’s his—for retains.
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Only one feature didn't fit that picture: his mouth was not the thin-lipped aristocratic version, but had the full, beautifully sculpted lips of a sensualist. Maybe there had been more peasant stock in the gene pool than the family would admit, people who might not have had the airs and graces of their lords, but who knew how to laugh and dance and drink with a passion the aristocrats had forgotten. Dracula was supposed to have been the one born of a fiery gypsy girl, but I'd sometimes wondered whether the old rumors had gotten things mixed up, and instead it was Mircea who had Romany blood.
After a noticeable pause Mircea released me, the invisible energy stretching between us like strings of taffy as his hand slid away. He allowed his companion to lead him down the corridor, but he looked back at me in puzzlement several times. The energy arced between us but didn't break, as if there was an invisible cord spanning the distance, tying us together. Then they disappeared into a small curtained archway to what I vaguely recognized as a theatre box. As soon as the red velvet curtains swooshed shut behind them, cutting off my view, the connection between us snapped.
He just stood there, looking bemused, but the hand on my arm began pulling me gently towards him. I went willingly, lost in admiration for the way the gas light gleamed in his hair, and a thrumming energy suddenly ran up my arm. It hit my shoulder, then dove back down to jump from my fingertips like electricity. Mircea jerked slightly as the sensation hit him, but he did not let go. The feeling echoed back and forth, holding the two of us in a loop of sensation that made the hairs on my arm stand up and my body tighten.