Page 30 of A Clash of Moonlight

She took him in, studying him, assessing him, judging him. He wanted her scrutiny. He wanted her hands on him, her mouth, her teeth.

“Your eyes are dilating, vampire.”

“And yours are edged in gold.”

A corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. It disappeared as she moved past him. He watched her walk to his desk.

“Do you regularly hook up with young vampires?” She moved the mouse, lighting up the screen that had gone black.

“Hook up?”

“Sleep with.”

“I have not slept with Laila.”

“She’s too young for you to drink from,” she said.

“Is she?”

Nora opened a desk drawer. “Yes.”

“She is older than you.”

“You aren’t drinking from me.”

Yet, he thought. Not yet. “Are you here to evaluate my relationships with my vampires?”

She opened another drawer. “You didn’t drink from her.”

He let silence hang between them.

“You don’t smell like her,” Nora continued. “And vampires don’t separate blood and sex.”

“We do not separate sex and blood.”

Her eyebrows rose as she opened a third drawer.

He approached. “We exchange blood with our lovers, but we do not always make love when we exchange blood.” He opened the last drawer before she did, took out the bottle of Bliss, and uncorked it.

The fey’s libation perfumed the air. He reached for a glass, but she swiped the bottle from his hand, tilted it back, and drank.

His gaze fixated on her throat. His fangs throbbed as desire pulsed in his groin. He wanted her body and blood, wanted it badly enough that his plans slipped his mind. The seduction, the attraction, the moment of raw need, was hot and potent and startlingly real.

She lowered the bottle, and he blinked. It was the only outward sign that he was off balance, and he quickly regained his composure.

“In two centuries,” he said, “you are the only woman I have bedded but not bled.”

Just as he had intended, she let down her guard a little and met his eyes. “We haven’t gone anywhere near a bed.”

Jared smiled. Held out his hand. “Let us change that.”

Nora didn’t take his hand, a fact that must have angered him because he cut her off from the exit. Tall and broad, he dominated the space.

Instinct flared, saying she was trapped and should fight. She grabbed his shirt to fling him out of her way. He didn’t budge, and the fabric ripped.

She widened her stance to counter an attack, but his hand gripped her hip and his mouth slanted over hers. The frustration she’d been barely holding back shattered. She returned the kiss, dug her nails into his shoulders, then wrapped her legs around his waist.

He carried her out of the office, down the short hallway, out into the cool, dark night. His arousal was obvious, pressing against her. He kissed her jaw, her neck, jerked down the front of her blouse and kissed the swell of her breast.