Page 69 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

He stared at me, his crimson eyes swimming with black, his hands stiff at his sides, and I didn’t know if it was the music, the food, or the spell of the night, but I reached for him and drew him towards me. His large hands settled on my hips and pulled me to him, and I closed my eyes on a breath, relishing the solidness of his muscular body where it pressed against mine. The drums pounded through my pulse, building, burrowing, until it wasn’t only my heartbeat that followed along with it but a deeper, growing ache.

One of Cammon’s hands slid up my spine until his fingers coiled through my hair to cup the back of my neck, and his other hand tightened around my hip. I ran my palms over his bare chest, my mouth watering as I followed the span of his golden skin.

His hardened length jutted into my hipbone, and the awareness that he wanted me as much as I did him heightened my arousal until I felt it slicking the insides of my thighs. He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, but I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed by my obvious need. I’d already accepted that, for tonight at least, I was ready to give myself to him. To set aside all reason and responsibility, to play the fool, come what may tomorrow.

The last of the red in his eyes disappeared, consumed by the inky blackness, and he bent his head to nip at my bottom lip. My fangs elongated in response, begging to sink into his flesh and partake of the elixir only he could offer. But a second bite would be binding. I had enough rationality remaining to hold back. For now.

His husky breath skated over my neck as his mouth travelled down, his tongue flicking over my pulse, the crook of my neck, my shoulder. He lingered there, tongue and lips savouring the curve of my muscle, and clawed at my hips, pulling me even tighter against him. A low growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating in my ears, and I curled my fingers into his vest to tug him with me as I turned us towards our room.

He pulled back, his eyes wide, questioning, desperate and hungry. So hungry. Starving. Primal. His horns pressed through his brow, growing and stretching until they were fully exposed. Hesitant, curious, and driven by desire, I reached up and ran my fingers along the black, ridged shafts, and he closed his eyes with a shudder.

His expression and the reaction of his body were so breathtakingly erotic I nearly hit my edge right there.

And still I felt no shame or self-consciousness. All around us, the sounds and smells and taste of sex were in the air. A fury in celebration, vampires doing what came so naturally to them.

What could come so naturally to me if I allowed it to.

Something Cammon made me believe would be sinfully easy.

His chest heaved with another deep breath, and the groan of longing that followed sent a responding wave through me. When he opened his eyes, he pinned me with a void-filled stare that stole my breath, and then his mouth was on mine as he guided me backwards. For a heartbeat, I tensed, unused to letting someone else control my direction, but I drowned that part of myself under the beating throb of my desire. The idea of letting him lead terrified me, thrilled me, and I didn’t give myself space to doubt.

For tonight, I would be a disappointment to practical, restrained Gloria Dolan. I would be the opposite of the buttoned-up miss who buried herself in books.

For tonight, I would live.

Cammon

XXX

The scent of Glory’s lust was intoxicating. With every breath I drew in, it coated the back of my throat, wound through every one of my senses until I drowned in her. It wasn’t enough.

I captured her mouth with mine, my tongue exploring, my teeth teasing, and the sounds she made in response fuelled my depraved urges.

She couldn’t want this. I should stop and let her compose herself. Find an ice cold spring somewhere in this molten mountain and douse my head until every deplorable thought froze and shattered.

But I couldn’t. Every time I pulled away, her mouth, her hands, her desire followed me and drew me back in.

As I pressed her backwards around the curve that led to our room, the symphony of the party behind us faded. That music, woven as it was with a primal rhythm that snapped every one of my well-practised restraints, grew fainter, until I wasn’t sure if I could still hear those cursed drums or if it was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Or Glory’s heartbeat thrumming under the pad of my thumb where it rested on her neck. On her soft, bare skin.

Another groan escaped me, and I dipped my head to suck that spot on her throat, to taste the salt of her. Her fingers clawed into my shoulders through the leather, and I hated the scrap of clothing even more now than I had when I’d put it on. Releasing my hold on her, I stripped the vest off and threw it to the floor. Glory stroked her fingers along my bare back with a desperate whimper. Of their own volition, my muscles flexed and my wings spilled into the room, throwing shadows across the candlelight. When her soft touch brushed the feathers, my knees nearly buckled. I kept them steady until we were close enough for me to push her onto the bed.

She propped herself up on her elbows, her hazel eyes dark, her expression open and vulnerable where she stared at me from under her long lashes. I searched her eyes for the uncertainty I’d detected before, but although she remained somewhat guarded, clinging to her last scrap of control, I found nothing but arousal. A glimpse of her elongated fangs flashed along her bottom lip, and my cock jerked, aching to the point of agony. I worked my knee between her thighs and pressed her into the mattress, forcing myself to hold back. To be sure. To not move forward with anything that would lead to regret. And it took every ounce of my nonexistent self-control to do it.

I was a fucking demon. We didn’t peddle in self-control. We luxuriated in self-indulgence. But for this woman, I was willing to fight every natural instinct and go slow.

“Please, Cammon,” she whispered in my ear.

Fuck.

I hooked my fingers into the laces of her borrowed breeches, and the knot tying them together snapped. In a sweeping move, I tugged the breeches off and tossed them to the floor with my vest. I undid the laces of her top with my teeth, bracing my weight with one hand so I didn’t crush her. My other hand slid under the leather to cup her breast. My thumb brushed her nipple, and she arched against me with a gasp.

I pulled her vest off, exposing her chest, and caught her other nipple in my mouth, sucking and nipping and teasing until she writhed against me, the apex of her thighs rubbing on my leg as she chased her release.

But she wouldn’t get it that easily.

Not after all her comments about my demonic charms. All her boastful claims that she’d never give in to them.

I would never make her ashamed of her lust, but damn if my ego didn’t demand its due.