Dorian relaxed, but only slightly. Even if her story were true, which he doubted, it didn�t explain why she�d been snooping upstairs, like she�d been snooping at the Salvatore auction.

"Have you been inside the manor yet?" he asked�a small test.

Please don�t lie to me, woman�

"Oh, yes. It�s incredible, but it�s� it�s so overwhelming in there." She wrinkled her nose�the most adorable look of distaste Dorian had ever seen. "I kind of hate parties, to be honest."

"That makes two of us."

"We�re practically fugitives."

"The opposite of party crashers."

"Party dodgers." Charlotte laughed, the music of it stirring something deep within him. "My dad used to say I was the easiest teenager ever. He never had to worry about me sneaking off to parties. I spent my weekends flipping through art history books and�"

Dorian�s mouth was on hers in a blink, silencing her as he took her into his arms. Even as he�d followed her upstairs, watching from the shadows as she snuck into the first bedroom, he�d wanted to kiss her.

She sighed in his embrace, nipples erect beneath the dress, and when she finally parted her lips and allowed him to deepen their kiss, all the awkwardness evaporated, bringing them right back to those precious, stolen moments in the Salvatore closet.

By the time they broke for air, her eyes were large and glassy, lipstick smeared across her mouth like blood. The sight sent a dark thrill through Dorian�s heart.

He ran his thumb along her lower lip, and Charlotte opened her mouth. Her teeth scraped his skin as he slid into the soft, wet heat, his cock straining against his pants.

The remembered scent of fresh blood rose anew.

He wanted to bite her.

He wanted to feed.

Slowly, he drew his thumb from her mouth and dragged it down her chin, down her throat, wrapping a hand around her delicate neck.

He could compel her to remain absolutely still. To tilt her head and offer the vein, welcoming the bite as readily as she�d welcomed his mouth against her flesh in that closet�

Forty-nine years, one month, and sixteen days.

That was the last time Dorian had fed on a live human. Since that fateful meal, he�d spent his days and nights burying his innate desires so deeply, he�d sworn nothing could unearth them again.

And yet�

Dorian closed his eyes, fangs burning through the gums, desperate for a taste of her sweet, seductive blood. More than the velvet touch of her tongue, more than her soft, breathy moans, the very thought of feeding on her broke through nearly every wall he�d erected over those dangerous desires.

He was holding on by a gossamer thread. One wrong move, and it would snap.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, breath warm on his lips, pulse strong and steady beneath his grip.

Taste me, it whispered in time with her heartbeat. Taste me, I�m yours.

Taste me� JrNovels.com