A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(9)

“I’ll pass,” she squeaked, jerking her hand back.

Before she could even cry out, he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, roughly tossing her there.

She scrambled up, dashing for her dresser full of clothes. In a flash, he was behind her, peering over her shoulder, pressing into her with his entire body, his penis hardening against her. He picked out a revealing red lace nightgown, pulling it out with one finger under the straps.

“Red. To remind me of what you are.”

Red was her favorite color. She wanted to be reminded, too.

“Raise your arms.”

Enough! “I—can—dress—myself,” she snapped.

He yanked her around to face him, and his tone went deadly. “Doona displease me, vampire. You canna imagine how many years of rage I’ve got pent up, ready to be tapped.” She glanced past him, and her jaw slackened when she saw the distinct claw marks that had rent the bedside table. He’s a madman.

She helplessly raised her arms. Her aunts would have told him—Her brows drew together. Her aunts wouldn’t have told him anything, because they’d already have killed him for what he’d done. Frightened Emma raised her arms. She was disgusted with herself. Emma the Timid.

When he smoothed the gown over her, he insolently brushed her nipples, which were hard as if seeking his touch. He stood back to rake his gaze over her from her toes up to the gown’s high slit at the leg, finally resting on the lace bodice. “I like you in silk.” His voice was a deep rumble, his gaze as strong as a touch, and even after everything that had happened, she responded.

He gave her a cruel smirk. He knew it.

Her face flushed and she turned away.

“Now, get in the bed.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“We’re going to do something in that bed. I’m weary and thought we’d sleep, but if you have other ideas…”



Emma had always wondered what it would be like to sleep with someone.

She had never experienced it, never felt another’s skin against her own for more than the briefest moment. When he’d tucked her against his body in a spooning position, she’d been shocked by how warm he was. Her body, which had paled and cooled with hunger, grew warm as well. She had to admit this unfamiliar closeness was…remarkable. The hair on his legs tickled her, and his firm lips pressed against her neck as he slept. She could even feel his strong heartbeat against her back.

She finally understood the appeal of this. And knowing what she did now, she wondered how anyone could not want a bedmate. He was answering so many questions she’d had, proving so many of her secret dreams.

And yet he could readily kill her.

At first, he’d squeezed her to his chest so hard it was everything she could do not to cry out. She didn’t think he held her so tightly to hurt her—he could have just hit her if that was his intention—so she was confused by his obvious need to clasp her to him.

Now he slept at last, his breaths growing even and slow. She called up her meager reserve of courage, and little by little, over what seemed to be an hour, she eased his arms open.

If only she could trace, she could escape so easily—but then she never would have been taken by him in the first place. Annika had taught Emma about tracing, the Horde’s means of travel. She’d warned that vampires could teleport to any place they’d been to previously. The stronger ones could even teleport others, and only a fierce struggle might prevent it. Annika had wanted Emma to learn how. Emma had tried her hardest, failed, and been discouraged. She’d stopped paying attention….

When Emma was finally able to duck from under his arms, she rose in cautious degrees. Free of the bed, she glanced back at him, and again was struck by how handsome he was. She was saddened that he had to be like this. Saddened that she couldn’t learn more about herself—and even about him.

Just as she turned, his big hands snared her around the waist. He flung her back into the bed, then joined her once more.

He’s playing with me.

“You canna escape me.” He pressed her back, then levered himself up beside her. “You only provoke my anger.” Even as his eyes flickered, they appeared unseeing. He behaved as if he was still dreaming, like a sleepwalker.

“I-I don’t want to anger you,” she said with a shaky breath. “I just want to go—”

“Do you know how many vampires I’ve killed?” he murmured, either ignoring or not hearing her words.

“No,” she whispered. She wondered if he truly saw her.

“I’ve killed thousands. I hunted them for sport, stalking their lairs.” He ran the back of his dark claw across her neck. “And with one swipe of my claws I severed their heads—before they even woke.” His lips brushed over her neck where he’d trailed his claw, making her shudder. “I could kill you as easily as taking a breath.” His voice was a low rumble like a lover’s might be, gentling her, so inconsistent with his cruel words and actions.

“Are you going to k-kill me?”

He smoothed a strand of hair from her lip. “I have no’ decided. I’ve never hesitated a second before you.” He was shaking from holding his position above her. “When I wake from this haze—when this madness clears, if I still believe you are what you are…who knows?”