You mean you let him talk to you like that and you aren’t even getting any Man what a rip-off.
Let me get this straight. First you decide I’m a demon because of a power I didn’t ask for and don’t even understand. Then when that falls through you label me a fallen sybil and a ho. Am I missing something or do you just not like me.
Great. I’d been dumped in Hell’s waiting room.
Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.
I lay there, no longer fighting, since my head was spinning too much. And because I wasn’t going to win anyway. And because I kind of liked the feeling of sensual captivity, at least by this particular jailer.
Fools fight; winners think.
And then I got to my feet and stumbled toward the door again. And got halfway there before I realized I was naked. Of course I am, I thought angrily, and went back to the bed for a sheet. God forbid I actually wake up dressed anymore.
I’d never known that anyone could kiss in English, kiss in apologies.
Prevarication, how divine! I always did get along better with sinners.
I felt betrayed and absolutely livid, but my body wasn’t smart enough to know it. It had liked the feel of his hands, wanted more of it, wanted it now. It was almost like there were two of me, one who heartily approved of the mage and one who would have dearly loved to see him dead.
I stared at him, unable to believe this was happening. That he could just disappear, along with everything rich and strange he’d brought into my life. Vanished, like magic.
It’s okay. You aren’t my type. What’s your type? Someone who gets into less trouble.
You know, dulceata, there are times when I truly believe you are the most frightening person I know. Thank you?
One day, you will say it to me again. You will be sober. And you will mean it.
More worryingly, my baby fangs were out, which usually happened only when I was perilously close to tipping over into Mr. Hyde territory. I quickly drew them back in. It didn’t help much. I still looked like Dracula’s daughter. Which was completely unfair, since he’d only been an uncle.
It’s about time! It’s supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d relied on his scowls or his shrugs or his grudging looks of approval to help me figure something out-until they weren’t there anymore. Or how I could talk to some people about a lot of things but only to him about everything. And how unbelievably valuable that was.
The most temptation I’d experienced had been with Tomas, the Senate’s spy who had been feeding off me without permission, and Mircea, who was probably plotting some nefarious scheme. I have no taste in men.
But you were Mine. My child. And I would not give you up.
Come and take your seat, Lady Dorina.