Dead After Dark (Companion #6.5)(81)

“Are you?”

“Oh, yes. But you’ll be there, won’t you?”

Warmth suffused her. She reached up and slipped one hand around his neck under the curls at his nape. “I will, Drew Carlowe. And do you want this?”

“I do, Freya Rozonczy.”

She smiled and felt the tears spill over and course down her cheeks. That was not her last name. To her knowledge she had no last name. But it was fitting she acknowledge that, for all his faults, she was her father’s daughter. And she was her own person, too, for the first time. Drew led her back to the bed, climbed up and pulled her up beside him. He lay back, his strong body even now calling to the core of her. She asked for power, enough to run out her fangs. Her eyes would be glowing faintly red. She let him see the teeth extend. He must have no illusions. “There is no going back.”

He pulled her close and kissed her, running his tongue over her fangs. “Then let us go forward.” She felt his erection rising against her thigh. She throbbed in response.

He turned his head toward her and raised his chin, exposing the artery in his neck. But she wanted this to be special, sacred even. She reached down and caressed his cock. He was fully aroused now. So was she. She kissed her way from the pulse in his throat to the place directly under his jaw. “Not yet,” she whispered. Her breasts rubbed against his chest hair. He rolled her to her back. She spread her knees. She wanted him to impale her, plunge himself inside. He positioned his cock and she pulled his buttocks into her. The sweet sensation of being filled possessed her. He moved in and out with controlled intensity. Sensation built and she did not want to stop it, prolong it, or deviate from its inevitable course. She turned the tables after a while and rolled him on his back. She straddled his hips and rocked up and down, back and forth. He groaned. She bit her lips, licking them. The saliva would keep the wounds from healing immediately, but there wasn’t much time.

He bared his throat again.

She took a breath. She was about to baptize her newfound self by an act her father would find repugnant but that she was sure was very right. Drew’s trust as he exposed himself to her would not go unreturned. She bit down, gently, rocking against his cock. He moaned, but she didn’t think it was from the slight pain of the twin wounds she had inflicted. He was hard and needing inside her. The copper tang of thick life filled her mouth. She could feel the blood on her lips mingle with his. For better or worse, it was done. She sucked lightly, caressing his shoulder as he thrust inside her. She could feel his release building. Her own was moments away. The sweet sensation of sucking at him even as they raced toward orgasm in some complex and most intimate exchange of fluids, body to body, soul to soul, enveloped her. Her world thrust outward, blood and semen and her own wild juices mingling in chaotic abandon as Drew exploded inside her. They slumped together, Drew crushing her to his chest. She felt her lips heal as though the cuts there had never been.

“The blood is the life, my love,” she said.

“For both of us,” he whispered.





MIDNIGHT

KISS GOODBYE


by

Dianna Love





This story is dedicated to my mother-in-law Jane O’Hern who gave me my first romance novel many years ago, and my hero as well when I married her only child.

My deep appreciation goes to Sherrilyn Kenyon for her friendship and endless support. I want to thank Caren Johnson for placing this story and Monique Patterson for being a fabulous editor. Thanks also to Maureen Hardegree who as an early reader gave me great feedback. Thanks so much to all those who have supported my writing, to name a few—James and Terri Love, Jim and Mary Buckham, Walt and Cindy Lumpkin, Gail and Dave Akins, Bart and Hope Williams, Bill Gayton, Joanne and Hank Shaw, Mae Nunn, Annie Oortman, Darlene Buchholz, Donna Browning, Debby Giusti, Jacqui Sue Ping, the RBLs, GRW members and all of you—the READERS—who allow me to write these stories. Please visit my website at www.AuthorDiannaLove.com and I love to hear from readers at [email protected].

Most of all, thanks to my incredible husband and hero, Karl Snell, who makes it possible for me to pursue my dreams.





1


Where are you, Ekkbar? Show yourself so I can send you back to the flames of hell that birthed you.

Trey McCree raised his head and visually swept the room filled with Goth partiers out for some early action on the night after Halloween. He telepathically listened to snippets of conversation from the partygoers’ private thoughts as well.

Hey, loosen up, babe. . . . I want a man tonight. . . . What a loser. . . .

When the woman he followed moved again, Trey pushed ahead through the tangled mass of patrons decked out in sinister black outfits, bloodred accessories, and silver studs pierced through some interesting places. Most of the clientele visited in cozy corners on several levels, but that still left a packed dance floor of writhing bodies. Unconcerned over blending in with nose rings and scary hair, Trey had donned black jeans, a matching long-sleeved turtleneck, and a leather jacket.

He was here for one reason.

The Black Fairy nightclub in a renovated midtown Atlanta warehouse near a historical cemetery had piqued the interest of a woman he was not letting out of his sight—Sasha Armand.

Not with Ekkbar visiting this millennium.

Calf-high black boots pranced twenty feet away, a silver cross-and-skull zipper pull at her boot cuff flicking with each sexy step. The liquid movement of Sasha’s derriere swayed erotically in time with the pulsing music, reminding Trey of why he couldn’t stay in Atlanta beyond this week. Temptation was easier resisted from a distance.