Page 33 of A Clash of Moonlight

“I will be at yours.”

The words surprised her. They surprised him as well. There was truth in them, however, and it settled rather oddly in his chest. He answered to no one other than Arcuro, and only then because he had no choice. And yet, if Nora called, he would meet her whenever and wherever she chose.

“I’m not giving you my number.” She looked away and sipped her wine.

“If I had your number and you had mine, when you are angry, frustrated, or restless, all it would take was one call and I would attend to you.”

“I don’t need attending.”

“Your aura indicates otherwise.”

Her cheeks flushed. A human would not have been able to see it, perhaps not even a wolf, but he had excellent vision and could discern the subtle shade of pink.

“Your number,” he said.

She shook her head and looked out over the room. It was crowded with university students and young businesspeople. He had not noticed them before and did not care to notice them now. Nora was the only significant being in the vicinity.

“Does the pack monitor your phone calls?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you worry that I will call at an inopportune time?”

She rolled her eyes. It was a very human reaction that softened her icy poise. She was devastatingly attractive when she was irritated.

“Perhaps you think you will—”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not really here to talk.”

His body had responded to her the moment he had spotted her sitting at the table. He grew even harder now, and his eyes locked onto her mouth. There were better uses for it than conversation. Better uses for his as well.

He held out his hand. After a moment, she took it and stood.

It should have felt wrong to touch a werewolf. Instead, it felt deliciously dangerous.

She didn’t return on Tuesday or Wednesday. It must have annoyed him because he didn’t say a word as he escorted her to the small tables along the back wall and pulled the curtain closed around them. A prudish wolf would have protested the semipublic setting. Nora was the opposite of that description. She shed her clothing, lounged back onto the bench seat, and let the vampire slip between her knees. The hum of conversation, the clatter of glasses and dishes, and an occasional loud laugh filled the wine bar as he filled her, relentlessly pumping into her until she had to bite her lip to hold back a scream.

His eyes fixated on her mouth, and she licked away the blood that swelled from the cut. He’d already spent himself inside her, but that one small action renewed his fervor. Gripping the back of the bench seat, he rammed his hips into her again and again. The wood splintered in his hand. She might splinter beneath him.

Her head fell back. Her eyes closed. God, she loved this vamp—

She loved sex with this vampire. The sensations. The release. All things she could find elsewhere if she looked hard enough.

If she looked very hard.

When they both finished again, Jared pulled her into his arms as was his routine. As was her routine, she flung away his hand and reached for her blouse.

He caught her wrist.

She looked at him, a clear warning in her expression.

“I want more,” he said.

Her gaze deliberately traveled down to his hard-again shaft, then back up. “It’s getting late, vampire. I’d hate for you to turn to dust while I’m fucking you.”

His hand did not loosen on her wrist. “More, Nora.”

She paused. He was talking about sex, right? Or blood? There was a strange intensity in his gaze, but his eyes didn’t slip toward her naked body or to her throat where he liked to nip and lick and tease her skin. He was focused on her.