Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I stagger towards my kitchen. “I didn’t think vampires ate food,” I say in a quavering voice, falling flat in an attempt to sound unaffected.
“We don’t have to,” he says. He follows me, hands in his pockets, and leans against the doorway in a sexy pose. “But we can. I certainly prefer blood.”
I shudder.
“Aurelia…” The lilting way he purrs my name is almost musical. “If you behave yourself and do what I ask, I won’t ever hurt you.”
Not reassuring. Like hurting me would be the norm for vampire behavior.
“You already spanked me,” I mutter.
“And you laughed. You liked it, and I didn’t even allow you to come afterward.”
I shut my mouth. I’m not going to dignify that with a response.
I open my fridge and glance inside. What does one feed an unwelcome vampire? Will he notice if I spike a snack with garlic?
My shelves are pretty bare. I’m too busy with school and work to cook much, even though I enjoy it when I have time.
A glance behind me shows me my vampire stalker has gone back into the living room.
“Master, what shall I cook thee?” I snark under my breath.
“Be careful, love,” he calls from the other room, making me jump. “I’ll punish you again, and I promise this time it won’t make you laugh.”
I stick my head back in the fridge. My bottom seems to tingle in response, the warmth traveling even lower, to my sex. What’s wrong with me? I know he’s super hot, for an evil vampire, but is the idea of being punished actually turning me on?
I close the refrigerator door and fish out a box of graham crackers from my cupboard, along with a jar of peanut butter and the bottle of chocolate syrup. Pulling out a plate, I arrange eight crackers on it then spread each one with peanut butter and drizzle chocolate over the top.
I carry the plate back to where the vampire now lounges like a king on my couch and hand it to him.
For the first time, he looks less assured. “What is this?”
“My version of s’mores.”
His lip curls.
“Just try one. They’re tasty.” I pick up a square and hold it to his perfect lips. My heart skips at my own bold gesture. “I promise I didn’t poison them with roasted garlic spread or anything.”
His mouth twitches in amusement, and he opens it a crack, as if only to let the tiniest bit of food in. Nibbling a corner, his eyes hood as he samples the treat. “Not bad.” He takes the cracker from my hand and accepts the plate. “I guess I won’t make you crawl around on your hands and knees and lick my hand.”
What the fork? I don’t know whether to laugh or kick him in the shin. “I beg your pardon?”
“My dear fairy, I have many ways of punishing you, and all of them involve your subjugation.”
I stifle a shiver, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze.
“In my day, women were taught to obey men.”
I cock my head to the side. He sounds so serious, but there’s a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Something tells me you’re full of shizzle.”
Another chuckle. “You are most amusing. If you would like to sit at my feet, I always enjoy subservience, but you are also welcome to sit beside me.”
Am I seriously verbally sparring with a vampire? “I don’t know if you’re kidding or not.”
“Come and find out,” he dares with that sexy smirk. And this time, it doesn’t scare me. I must be warming up to him or something because I give a nervous bark of laughter. I plop down beside him and make a show of snatching one of the crackers from the plate on his lap.
I bite into the cracker and watch him chew, studying his beautiful face.
He’s loosened his black tie and leans back against the cushions, but his show of studied casualness and businessman attire doesn’t make him look any more normal. If anything, they’re a costume, an act. His beauty makes him remote, otherworldly. Not human! my senses scream. Vampire! Run!
But another part of me is fascinated. My body warms sitting next to his, and I’m all too aware of the contact of his shoulder against mine.
I finish my cracker and reach for another one, but he slaps my hand, holding the plate away. I make a sound of outrage.
“Say please,” he orders.
“They’re my crackers!”
“Are they?” he challenges, his black eyes connecting with mine in a stare-down I cannot not win.
I grit my teeth and look away. “Nevermind.”
He crosses one long leg over the other. “You see, there’s a pecking order here, love. The sooner you learn it, the easier things will go between us.”
“Go to hell,” I mutter, pushing to stand up.
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and plops me onto his lap. “I am your hell, sweetheart. Believe it.”