Demon Blood

head down, his fists clenched. Slowly, she opened her door and moved to the front of the car, where she sat back on the warm hood. She waited, listening to the distant crash of the sea, drawing in the lush scent of the grass crushed by the skidding tires.
    After only a few seconds, he pivoted and stalked back. An erection bulged behind his trousers. Rosalia’s breath caught. He’d fed on the plane, but a vampire’s bloodlust was unpredictable. She could understand why he’d be infuriated if the scent of Valeotes’s and Sardis’s blood had aroused him. As he came closer, she vanished the blood from his shirt and face, then from her own skin.
    He still didn’t stop until stood directly in front of her. Bending low, he caged her with his hands. “How far?”
    She frowned. How far . . . what? “I don’t understand.”
    “No?” He stepped back. “Stand up.”
    Slowly, she did. He took her spot on the hood. With his hands on her hips, he pulled her around to stand between his legs. She stared at him, her heart pounding. There was no mistaking this. She didn’t know what point he wanted to make, but she understood this. Excitement thrummed through her veins.
    “Kiss me.”
    Anticipation and uncertainty spread through her in equal parts. Rosalia hesitated. His face held none of the softness that she expected to accompany such a command. And she hadn’t really imagined it as a command .
    She also hadn’t imagined how thrilling it would be.
    Unknowing what to do with her hands, she braced her palms against his shoulders and leaned in. His lips were cool. A shiver started deep in her belly. Would he open his mouth now? Was she supposed to initiate that?
    Suddenly, whether she was supposed to didn’t matter. She wanted to taste him. Parting her lips, she licked between his, caught the faint flavor of blood and salt.
    His shoulders tensed under her hands. His fingers clenched on her hips.
    She didn’t know much about kissing, but she didn’t need a flashing sign to interpret his reaction. She licked again. His mouth opened and she slipped deeper. Her tongue brushed his fangs, cool and sharp. The shiver in her belly raced outward, over her skin. She shuddered, and his grip tightened. She loved that. She wanted to squirm closer to him but he held her still except for the exploration of her mouth.
    Without warning, he pulled back, and her stomach sank when she saw his face. His expression hadn’t softened. His eyes remained flat and hard; not a hint of the desire burning through her was reflected in them. The kiss hadn’t affected him, after all.
    The pounding of her heart became a painful thud. “I’m not good at that,” she admitted.
    “No.” His laugh was hard, too. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve got other parts I like better. So lose the top.”
    She’d misheard him. “Lose what?”
    “Lose the shirt, sister.”
    Why? She stared into his face, wondering what he was driving toward—and realizing that she had only one way to find out. If she refused, that would be the end of this. Full stop. He wouldn’t force her to go further. But she wanted to know what had brought him to this point.
    And she wanted him looking at her.
    She vanished her shirt. Released from the confining material, her breasts swayed gently, her nipples already tightly budded. And when hunger pierced his psychic shields, she’d never appreciated the fullness of her body so much.
    “Now feed them to me.”
    His gravelly command rumbled along her nerves, sparking more heat. Arching her back, she cupped her hands beneath her breasts. Beautiful, and sometimes useful—but she’d never felt this part of her was sexy before. She’d never felt the power in this, but as he lifted his head to meet her, she reveled in it. His big palm smoothed around her hip and flattened against her back. She held her breath, watching his mouth open. His tongue flicked against her nipple, then drew a slow circle around the sensitive tip. Rosalia leaned closer to him, shaking.
    His teeth closed over the taut bud, and she froze. Slowly, he sucked her nipple between his lips. Her head fell back. Oh, God. Oh, Heaven. Every pull of his mouth seemed to set her on fire, a line of heat that settled between her legs. A fierce ache burned there, seemed to pulse outward, so strong. Her hips writhed, and Deacon’s hand slid down to her ass as if to hold her in place.
    His fingers caught the edge of her tiny skirt. Rosalia stilled again, panting, feeling him