The firelight licked her goose fleshed skin as she lay bare and vulnerable before it. Thoughts chased around her head, skittering down her spine.
“I don’t date vampires,” she murmured.
“Didn’t,” he corrected, dislodging his second boot and watching the play of warm colours across her skin. He paused. He could smell her sweet scents, autumn flowers and fallen leaves, whispering in with the sneaking sliver of fear.
It wasn’t just her blood he wanted. It was her soul willingly given.