Page 55 of The Silver Fox Vampire

No matter how hard he tried, he could not drag his eyes away.

She was wearing a black wig, cut into a geometric bob that accentuated her jawline. Her lips were red to match her dress, and winged eyeliner defined her eyes, making them smoky and sultry. Her body, he couldn’t help notice, had filled out a little in the past three years; her tits were bigger, her hips fuller.

She looked like a fucking movie star.

His cock hardened as he took in the full milky moons of her breasts, the little flick of thigh as she walked toward him and Saul.

He sensed even the happily married orc’s eyes were popping out of his skull.

It would be amusing if it wasn’t so deeply disturbing.

“How do I look?” She struck a pose, hands on hips, her chin tilted, her eyes flashing straight at him. She was goading him, wasn’t she?

Oliver forced a twist to his lips and arched his brows.

“Great,” Saul said in a slightly strangled voice.

When Oliver said nothing, she kicked out her leg to show even more thigh. Gods, he could almost see her panty line.

Her lips pursed, head cocked, she said, “Thoughts, sir?”

He gave a curt nod. “You’ll do.”

He thought he heard her snort. But since he’d already turned away to get the device off the table, he may have imagined it. He steadied his slightly shaking hands, willing himself to be the cold ruthless vampire he’d once been.

Except it didn’t work with Clare. It never had. Something about her had inveigled itself into his chest cavity and nestled close to his heart, and no matter how hard he tried to dislodge her, she didn’t budge.

More than a thorn in his side, she was a dagger in his heart.

Yeah, right. That fits.

Grimly, he turned to the table where the necklace lay, its centerpiece a tiny camera.

And next to the necklace were mock diamond earrings, one of which would act as a microphone.

There was a phoenix, a jeweler who had worked for years on these tiny devices, the only one who could make them so meticulously that no other monster could ever tell.

“Saul,” Oliver barked, holding out the necklace. “Do the honors, put this on Clare, will you?”

Saul backed away. “You’re better at this shit than me, Hale. You’ve fitted far more of these devices than I have.”

“You do it,” Oliver growled.

Then Clare said, “I’d feel more confident if you did it, sir.”

He reeled back around to find her eyes, smoky and sultry, challenging him. He couldn’t refuse now, not without looking churlish.

“Very well. Step closer,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Saul, double check I’m placing these correctly for sound and visuals,please.” He tried to sound casual as she stepped closer and turned her back, exposing the nape of her long neck.

Ah, the scent of her… He knew at once she had on the same perfume as that night. Memories swirled around his brain, alighting on every synapse and setting them on fire.

Fighting lust, he ground his teeth so hard it was a wonder they weren’t dust in his mouth.

He willed his fingers not to shake as he circled the necklace around her neck. He willed his gaze not to stray to the line of her vertebrae, the soft milky white skin of her neck, but his fingers brushed the pulse in her throat as he looped the fine chain around it. Fuck! He fumbled like a fool, and she moved, subtly, so that her butt cheeks skimmed close to his groin. His cock twitched alarmingly.

He almost snarled out loud at his own lack of self-control.

Finally, he got the damn thing done up. “There,” he muttered, his voice sounding thick and viscous to his own ears. “Saul, check if the camera is working, please.” He stepped back, desperate for a moment’s reprieve.