Kresley Cole - No Rest for the Wicked

When he could drag his gaze away from Kaderin, he saw that all around her, men stared at her face or leered at her body. Sebastian's fists clenched. Who to kill first—

"Might as well sit," said a voice behind him. He whirled around and found the two nymphs. "Kaderin's going to be busy awhile."

He turned back in time to see a man slide in next to her and drape his arm around her shoulders. His hand almost brushed over her breast, and for the first time in his life, Sebastian needed to kill.

The first nymph sidled up to Sebastian. "We could pass the time. Vampire, forget about the Valkyrie. You're forbidden fruit to us as well, if that's your attraction to her."

Sebastian scarcely heard them over the pounding in his ears. "Is that the Colombian she's with?" he grated.

"That's him."

The bastard leaned over her and put his hand high on Kaderin's thigh, fingers teasing close to the hem of her skirt.

Rage exploded within Sebastian. This had to be a symptom of the blooding. He'd never felt such fury. Never.

He touches what's mine.

Sebastian was striding toward her, eyes black with rage, forcing people to scurry out of the way. Kaderin jumped up, excusing herself to rush behind the dance floor before he made a scene.

When he caught up with her, he clenched her arm and dragged her to a shadowy spot near the back wall. "By Christ, what are you doing?" His voice was seething. "You allowed him to touch you!"

"What are you doing?" she cried. She'd known if he did show up here, he wouldn't be pleased, but she'd also thought she'd get a chance to explain, instead of being manhandled. He acted as if he'd caught her in bed with a hockey team.

At first she was bewildered by his crazed expression and palpable fury. But when he tried to trace her from here and almost succeeded, her own ire flared. "Let go of me!" She flung his hand off her arm. "So help me, if that Colombian leaves without me—"

"You plan to leave with him?" he roared, clutching her shoulders, attempting to trace her once more. When she fought him, he scanned the building for a private spot, then dragged her into a small boothlike room with two seats and a telephone on a shelf. He slammed the door behind them, but the low thrumming beat of the music still vibrated the walls.

"How can you think to go with him tonight?"

"What I do is none of your business," she said, gritting the words through clenched teeth.

"Goddamn it, it is! His hands were all over you—and you let him touch you?"

"If I answer you, I'm acknowledging that you have a right to know. You don't."

"I will get the ring from the Colombian," he said quickly. "Trace beside him, take it, and trace away."

"It's forbidden. Do you know what every myth is?" When he didn't answer, she said, "A glaring example of when some Lore creature got careless. Each myth equals failure. Riora won't just disqualify you for a stunt like that—she will punish you."

"So, that's it, then? You've told me you're going home with another man? And I've already seen him touching you." He looked like he wanted to throttle her.

When she put her chin in the air, his eyes narrowed. "You may have your feelings back, but you're still a cold woman, Kaderin. Heartless." He clutched her nape, dragging her close. For some reason, they were both breathing heavily, audible even over the pulsing music. Before she could resist, he'd lifted her to rest on the shelf, then shoved up her skirt. He groaned to find nothing under it, then stiffened, his face becoming a mask of rage.

"Did you come here to fuck him?" With both of his hands grasping her head, he shoved his lips to her hair. "Do you want to see me snap? To kill? Why would you think I would let the mortal live if he took you?"

"Sebastian, just wait—"

He gave her a hard, punishing kiss as he pressed his palms against her thighs. Her body was tensed, but then, slowly, she began to respond to him—against her will, against reason.

Her breaths were quick. "Don't do this."

Though he was shaking with rage and lust, his fingers were gentle when he skimmed them up her thigh.

"Do you want my touch, Kaderin? Do you want to feel?"

This shouldn't happen—not now, not here. Hell, not at all. Even as she commanded herself to remember the task, she found herself responding.

Fury burned in him and his fangs sharpened with the undeniable need to mark her, to claim her as his in some way. The blooding was working on him once more.

His fangs ached to pierce her neck, and he knew he couldn't resist for much longer, knew that soon he would take her flesh savagely.

Why should he resist? If she wants to leave with another man, she'll carry my mark...

He kissed up from her delicate collarbone, lips easing higher as his hands did on her thighs. He nuzzled her, fondling her sex, teasing her wetness again and again. When he pressed his finger inside her, she cried out, hands gripping his shoulders, clutching as her claws sank into his skin. He thrust a second into her, and she rolled her hips into his hand, fucking his fingers.

No more—he couldn't take this any longer.

He sank his fangs into her neck in a frenzied bite, almost coming instantly from the unbelievable pleasure. He was lost in the warmth of her blood, in the richness that was unique to her taste. He was lost in how tight her flesh was around his aching fangs—until he felt her body tensing around his fingers in a sudden orgasm.

From his bite.

He barely remembered to put his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams.

Her sex continued to tighten around his fingers so furiously he snarled against her skin, sucking her hard. The feel of drinking her was perfect. As if instinct was rewarding him for doing something that was unavoidable anyway.

But he stopped himself from drinking too deeply. Later, when he had her in his bed, he was going to take his release from her body while he drank her blood.

He slowly withdrew his fangs, licking the marks on her neck as he removed his fingers. When she shuddered as if with loss, he realized the bite he'd despised had made her his—even if only for a moment.

Eyes wide, lips parted, she brushed his mark with her fingertips. He'd shocked her. Good.

Then she seemed to wake up, drawing back from him. She hurriedly pulled her hair around to cover her neck, then yanked her skirt down.

When she gazed up at him, her eyes passed over his face as if she'd never seen him before. Her expression told him she was disgusted with what she found. "I don't care if you'll turn or not. You had no right to take my blood."

"Ah, Kaderin, you didn't seem to mind."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He scowled. "For what?"

Her tone was quiet, grave. "For making this so easy. For making me see that there is nothing about you to tempt me to accept a vampire."

"You wanted to know why I desired to die?" he grated. "Because I saw myself as you see me. You hate me for reasons I can't control. Reasons I'd hated myself for. But now, seeing your reaction to me makes it clear I was wrong. At least, you've saved me from my own self-loathing." After tonight, he would no longer be ashamed to walk down the street. He refused to look at himself the way she saw him.

"Do you think this is only about your thirst for blood? Give me one reason that I should choose you over every other man I've met in millennia and every one I'll meet in the eternity to come? You can't." She caught his eyes. "It's more than your being a vampire."

This struck home. Why would she see him any differently than other women had throughout his mortal life?

Because she was his Bride, he would be seduced into wanting her again and again, seeing things in her that didn't exist. Then her true nature would betray his hopes like this in an endless cycle.