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Fergeddaboudit: A good emergency, though.

The dots disappeared—then reappeared.

A smile tugged at my lips. There was nothing more enjoyable than keeping Bram McGregor on his toes.

BMcGregor: Fergus, there is no such thing as a good emergency.

I rolled my eyes and typed.

Fergeddaboudit: Yes, there is. Snack emergencies. Sex emergencies. I distinctly remember you pronouncing the second one “good.”

This time, the dots stayed there a long time. My smile tugged harder.

BMcGregor: If this is about you being horny, you’re going to have to wait.

“The nerve,” I murmured, my thumbs moving.

Fergeddaboudit: It’s not.

I glanced at my erection tenting the front of the sweatpants I’d thrown on. Well, it wasn’t entirely about me being horny.

BMcGregor: I don’t believe that.

Shit. He knew me too well. Eying the vampire, I started typing again.

Fergeddaboudit: Just come upstairs. You’ll like this, I promise.

I tucked my phone in my pocket, then grinned when it buzzed with an incoming message. Knowing Bram, he’d send a few more argumentative texts, then curse and do exactly as I’d asked. He cared little for surprises—not necessarily because he disliked being caught unaware, but because he hated that he had a nosy streak.

He denied it, of course. So I considered it my duty to remind him as often as possible.

The vampire’s eyelids fluttered, and she released another soft moan that went straight to my cock. As if drawn by a magnet, I drifted forward until I was next to the bed. I’d placed her on her side when I bound her arms behind her back. The position was probably still uncomfortable, but it was hopefully temporary. Once I got her promise not to channel, I could untie her.

At least until she asked me to tie her up again. Which, if my plans panned out the way I hoped, she most definitely would.

In the meantime, I let my gaze roam her luscious body. Her simple black gown covered her from neck to ankle, but the material clung to her curves, hugging her breasts and hips. In the canopied bed with her red hair spread behind her, she looked like a medieval princess—or a captive in a dark version of Sleeping Beauty.

Just as wicked thoughts formed in my head, she opened her eyes and locked gazes with me.

“You,” she gasped, the tips of her little fangs showing.

Fuck, they were cute. And now I was hard as a boulder.

“I’m Fergus Devlin,” I said. “And you are?”

“Let me go,” she rasped, a hint of an accent in her voice.

“An unusual name, lass. Want to take another crack at it?”

She tugged at the zip ties holding her wrists. Her chest rose and fell as she began breathing heavy from her efforts. Panic laced her voice. “Please don’t do this.”

I frowned. “I’m not going to harm you.” I’d sooner cut off my hands.

“Then let me go!”

“Not an option. But I won’t touch you without your permission.”

She stilled as she seemed to think that over. Her voice went low and solemn. “You won’t?”