Running in the Dark | AUDIOBOOK | Cover Reveal

 

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     The life of deadly Russian slayer, Trace, has always revolved around death and preventing humankind from learning about the legendary creatures of the night. But now his position as a Watcher has become a prison, and dealing death for the Nation isn’t as prestigious as he once believed it to be. 


College dropout Bessina Darrow has witnessed things she isn’t permitted to see, a simple case of wrong place at the wrong time puts her life in danger. When Bessina becomes his new mark, Trace is prepared to eliminate her—until he discovers a way out for them both. 


     Protecting Bessina means defying the leaders of the Nation, an act that has them both running for their lives. The more Trace fights to disappear from danger, the more he unravels the secrets surrounding his world of lore—secrets he must unveil to finally save a life, instead of destroy it. 

Confessions in the Dark Teaser

 
17 and up due to adult situations and language
 

            It took everything in Ophelia not to apologize to the hard-headed jerk who’d thought to leave her while he fought her battle. And to make it worse? He now sat in front of her with shredded, yet mending lips and bloody teeth, looking like he wanted to kiss her.

            “No!” She shouted aloud to all of the things her body was craving. His smile widened and she nearly moaned when the tip of a blood-coated fang peeked through his lips. Gathering her wits and beating her hormones back with a stick, Ophelia jumped to her feet. “No!”

His smile disappeared as his lips mended. “Look—”

            “No, and I mean it. I am coming with you.” She moved toward the mouth of the cave and Irish dove for her, grabbing her hand and yanking her back. When she fell into his chest, she thrust out her elbow and jabbed him in the ribs. His rasping breath and his warm body pressed against her, almost made her forget she was fighting to get away—almost. She stomped her foot down, then adjusted her stance to knee him in the balls.

Rethinking this tactic, Irish used her moment of indecision and kicked his feet out, knocking her off balance. She fell to the ground face down, and Irish fell with her. He caught himself just in time and then grabbed her hands holding her tightly against the cool cave floor with his heavy body.

            “Get off me!” She rasped, struggling against his hold.

            “Ophelia,” his voice was a deep growl, “stop.”

She fought harder. Fuck that, she was pissed! How dare he hold her down. Feeling his long, thick legs straddled to either side and his muscular arms threaded around her, heat bloomed in her chest. Anger and arousal warred deep in her belly. Not thinking of that now. She thrashed against him.

            Irish grunted and then let out a groan she’d never heard from a man. “Ophelia,” his voice strained, “please stop moving.” Heavy pants sounded above her.

            “Let me go.” She said, plotting. This time, she would not hesitate . . . only his heat felt so damned good, his warm arms holding her just enough to stop her from freeing herself. She nearly complied.

            “I want to let you go, but I’m not chasing your ass out of this cave. Promise me you’ll behave,” he demanded.

Ophelia would not be told what to do when she was being held down against her will. She bucked hard, until a pleasured groan passed his lips. Never had she made a man sound like that. Screams, howls, and pleas for mercy? Yes. But never such a breathy groan. Still, her anger boiled deeper. She wouldn’t give in, not on this matter. She couldn’t. “You will not command me!”

In her struggle to move out from underneath him, her soft bottom nudged something long and hard. She stilled a moment, before giving another wriggle to test his reaction. Instead of holding her tighter or fighting back, he gently pressed into her.

            His body was so hot, it seared her to her very soul. He gently released one arm and moved his grip to her hip. “Please behave, so I can let you up. I can’t stay like this any longer.” He swallowed hard between shallow breaths.

            “No.” Ophelia wanted to go with him on the mission, but her answer was directed at the fact that he wanted to remove his body from atop hers. Making one last effort to get out of this situation, she bucked up and scooted out of his grasp.

Irish came up on all fours, but kept his head held low, taking deep calming breaths.

            “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

            He looked up at her sharply, heat blazing in his eyes. “What do you think? You did that on purpose.”

            Her eyes moved down to the large bulge in his pants. “Huh? You tackled me. Not the other way around.” She let out an indignant huff and crossed her arms over her chest.

            He released a bark of laughter. “And you sure showed me, didn’t you? Rubbing against me like a puppy in heat!” He stood and adjusted himself.

            Her face flamed and the word puppy slapped her in the face like a sledge hammer. “How was I supposed to know that you—that you,” she gestured to his pants, “enjoy holding women down against their will?”

            A look of outrage colored his face. “Are you insane, lass? Donnae be lookin’ at me, when I’m only trying to stop you from running off alone, to get killed or bred,” he said with extra emphasis. “You are the one rubbing on me like an animal in heat. What did you think was going to happen?”

She stared at him for a moment. Why did he keep comparing her to an animal? “I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to get away!” She threw her hands up and screamed. “Why am I apologizing?”

            “Because, lassie,” his voice lowered and his eyes narrowed. “You just took advantage of me!” Even as he said it in his thick brogue, she saw a glint of humor in his eyes and an impish grin playing on his lips.

            Her indignant huff echoed off the walls. “Oh, come on.” She jabbed a finger out at him. “I did not, you did!” She sounded immature, but there was nothing to be done about it.

            “And what do you suppose happens when a woman with a luscious ass rubs it up and down a man’s cock?” His voice was low and soft like a purr.

Her face heated even more and she swallowed hard. It had not been her intention, but when she’d realized what she’d done, she didn’t move to stop. “That is no way to talk to a queen.”

            He scoffed. “Nor is it anyway for her royal highness to act either, now is it? Pushing against me cock like that . . .”

“I’m a virgin!” Ophelia blurted, wanting to die of embarrassment when he scrambled back, looking disgusted. All of the blood in her body rushed to her face, leaving it redder than she was sure it had ever been.

Her mind scrambled to fix the situation. “I—I have to be. To protect the throne from heirs who weren’t born from me and the wolf I am promised to.” Her word vomit kept flowing. “I’ve never even been kissed.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. Closing her eyes, she endured a long silence.

            He finally cleared his throat. “That was a wee bit awkward, no?”

Her lids popped open and a bit of her mortification deflated when she saw the affable smile on his face. “Can I fight with you and the others?”

His silence had her feeling twitchy and ready to run, but instead of the adamant no she was expecting he said, “I’ll play ye for it, lass.”

            She smiled. “Ten lashings, and counting.”

He winked and pointed to a tree one hundred yards in the distance. Pulling a small knife from his sleeve, Irish threw it at the tree. “Best three out of four.” He looked over his shoulder, a roguish grin on his lips. “I win, and you go to the ship. You win, and you can tag along. Game?”

Little did he know she was one of the best knife throwers in her pack. She sauntered over and held her hand out. He handed her a knife and she turned and got in her throwing stance. “If you win,” she eyed the tree, “I go to the boat like a good little princess.” She did a practice throw without releasing the knife.

            “And if you win?” His voice was close behind her and the heat of his body nearly stole her concentration.

            “If I win, I not only go with you on the mission, but you teach me how to kiss, here and now.” She threw the knife, loving the sound it made as it whistled through the air, hitting Irish’s knife, and knocking it from the tree.

***

            “Where in the hell did you learn to throw knives?” Irish asked, counting her knives in the tree. She’d made all of her throws and to add insult to injury, she landed each of her knives on top of his, except one—the one he’d missed.

He’d actually lost the wager.

            She sat down close to the mouth of the cave and looked to him. “A race nearly extinct, remember? When you are in hiding, you learn how to protect yourself. Plus, there wasn’t much else to do.”

Her words sobered him up a bit. He was still amazed at her ability, but he felt like hell for the reason she’d ever needed to learn in the first place. Her kind was hunted and killed off by his kind in the past.

“Now,” she looked up at him, “you’ll teach me to kiss.”

            “I—uh . . .” He scratched his head and backed away.

            “You, uh . . . promised.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that the kind of man you are? One who reneges on a deal?”

He hadn’t thought she’d win the bet. Crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest, he huffed. “Why do you need to learn now?” He gestured around. “Here of all places?” Maybe he could stall. Just the thought of his lips on hers had him ready to explode in his pants. But she was firmly on the Hands Off Irish list. The first reason being, she was promised to another man. The second reason being, she was untouched.

            “Why not now? There’s nothing else to do but wait.”

He took a deep breath and wondered if it made him a bastard to want to be the man who taught her to kiss. There was something erotic about kissing. Irish had to banish that idea from his head because there was no damned way he was teaching her to kiss. “You should be preparing for what’s to come.”

            Her blonde brow arched. “If that knife competition didn’t convince you I’m capable of taking care of myself, then maybe you forgot when you first saw me on the isle, when I had just gutted a man from his privates to his neck.” She raised her chin, daring him to say anything.

            “Lesson one: If you want a man to kiss you, you don’t talk about slicing anyone’s balls.” She nodded emphatically and he didn’t have the heart to tell her he was only kidding. He pushed off the wall, strode over, and sat down in front of her.

She was biting her lips—most likely a nervous gesture—and while he found it endearing, he reached up and pulled the puffy lip from between her teeth.

            “Lesson two: Don’t damage the goods.” He smiled when she blushed. “Come here,” he whispered and she obliged. “Will you sit on my lap?” For him, the best part of a kiss was the intimacy it offered. Having her close would increase the heat of her body against his.

Irish needed to cool down his libido, reminding himself, this is just a lesson. It would go no further than a kiss.

She nodded and settled in his lap.

“Okay, here we go.” He’d never had to instruct a kiss, figuring that kissing was something so natural, the two people would find a rhythm all their own. So, he’d try it that way. He leaned in and her eyes went wide. Pulling back, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

            “I thought you were going to teach me.” In the waning sunlight, her eyes sparkled and her pink cheeks flamed.

He smiled. “Kissing is natural. I can’t really instruct you through the mechanics because my mouth is going to be on yours. I want you to place your lips on mine, then follow my movements. Do what comes naturally to you. If you want to stop, just pull away.” When she nodded her understanding, he leaned in part way, waiting for her to lean in as well.

            The first soft touch of her lips rocketed him out of his body. He slanted his head and applied more pressure, and like he thought, her natural reaction was to slant her head in the opposite direction. With a smooth motion, Irish pushed his tongue past the barrier of her lips. She gave a small gasp in surprise, but quickly copied his movements.

Her hand came up and nails scored his scalp, causing him to delve deeper. His fangs extended, scraping over her tongue, drawing a small bead of blood. He sucked on the tip of her tongue and she moaned so loud, it reverberated off the cave walls. Irish realized his hesitance to teach her had not come from anything other than his fear of losing control. Because he wanted more than a simple kiss.

Ophelia’s hands moved to his shoulders, holding him in a vice grip. Her body, hot against his, moved of its own accord. Soon, she moved her legs to straddle his waist, and he could scent her arousal. Irish was primed and ready, grabbing onto her ass to hold her firmly on his lap. It was then, an unwarranted thought blasted into his mind. Ophelia was to be queen, and when she hit that throne, she needed to be a virgin.

That thought sobered him up real quick. He pulled away. “Lesson over.” Grunting, he gently moved her off his lap.

            “Wait, why?” She stood with him. “Was it wrong?” He felt her hand on his shoulder.

            “No, it was all right—too right.” He moved to the mouth of the cave. “We need to head out. The sun is low and we can get there in time to meet the boat.” He didn’t look back at her. Yes, he was an ass for pushing her away without explanation, but hell, if he got hard again with no sort of release, his balls would explode in his pants.

When he did turn, she was removing the shirt he’d given her to wear. “What are you doing?” he asked in a panicked voice.

            She eyed him for a moment then frowned. “I’m going to shift. I’ll move faster this way, and my senses will be sharper. Plus, you said I could go to the compound with you and I am better when I’m in wolf form.” Her words were sharp and her tone was clipped.

Good, he needed her to forget the kiss and focus on the task at hand. He turned just as she pulled that tattered dress up and over her lithe body. “Do you—uh—remember the plan?” he asked. At her silence, he turned to find a large wolf with silky fur the same hue as a stormy night’s sky and an endearing little patch of pure white fur under her jaw. “Damn,” he whispered.

Moving forward, he reached out to the wolf. He’d seen her as a wolf before, but each time was as amazing as the first. She nuzzled his hand when he pet her. “I won’t be able to understand you, but I know you can hear me.” He knelt down in front of her. “If anything happens to me, or if shit hits the fan, run.” She gnashed her teeth and shook her head. “Hey,” he reached up and caressed her soft fur, “for me, please. Your people will need you to lead them back to the coast.”

He couldn’t go off into this mission worrying about her, but as he stood and headed out into the night, he knew some of them weren’t making it home. He could only pray it didn’t include Ophelia.

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RUNNING IN THE DARK - TEETH

 

RUNNING IN THE DARK BOOK 1

TRACE DIDN’T USE his brain as he spoke to Bessina. He’d spoken the truth, and was unsure if he expected her to fall into his arms or continue to run. There was nothing special about how he felt, right? Men felt this way for women all around the world. But what good could he bring her? What would he be doing to her life by bringing her on the run? Yes, he could protect her and her aunt, but at what cost to their freedom?

From the moment of his conception, his life had been laid out in front of him, and an average human life that would span a few decades wasn’t something he’d been granted. His human mother and vampire father had created a killing machine for the Nation, able to circumvent the things that killed most vampires.

The fear in Bessina’s eyes gave way to curiosity and Trace’s knees nearly buckled. Could she want him as well? Even after she’d learned what and who he was?

He cleared his throat. “Let’s get back in the car.” He released Bessina, but kept hold of one of her small, warm hands. Gently, he pulled her forward, leading her back to the car.

She stilled and Trace turned around. He thought he’d convinced her to stay with him. Maybe she had changed her mind.

“Wait.” She placed her fingers on his top lip and softly pulled it up. “Show me.”

He pulled back, taking her hands in his as she tried to pull his lips again. “Bessina . . . ” He sighed and fumbled with her hands, trying not to hurt her as he pulled them away and held them steady at her sides. “I don’t think that’s—”

She moved her hand out of his and rested it on his shoulder, leaned in on her tiptoes, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. To steady herself, she placed her other hand on his chest and deepened the kiss. Her warm tongue deftly moved past his lips, causing Trace to shudder.

He wanted more; he wanted everything. And as he wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck to pull her closer, she pulled away, leaving him cold and bereft in the wake of her absence.

“Show me,” she said. This time, her voice was a husky rasp.

He let his fangs descend. Anything, if it meant she’d place those lips against his once more.

Her fingers found their way to his lips. “Does it hurt?”

He frowned. Was he so starved for attention, a kiss and a light touch was enough to throw him over the edge?

“Oh, it does? I’m sorry.”

His frown must have confused her. He’d rectify that now. She needn’t pity him. He was a killer—a man unworthy of her pity. “No, the hunger hurts more, but is easily assuaged.”

As she stood in front of him, with her finger gently tracing his fangs, he thought of nothing other than holding her—not sleeping with her, or biting her—just holding her and never leaving her. Trace could taste the natural salt on her skin, he could feel the pulse at the tip of each fingertip, and he could smell the blood traveling below her skin.

As she traced his lips, scorching them with her touch, he closed his eyes. He allowed his hands to move to her waist and pull her close. Bessina’s scent enveloped him, her taste still lingered on his tongue and his body reacted to each sensation as if he were a prepubescent teen experiencing touch for the first time.

Bessina leaned into him again, and her breath danced across his lips. With a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, Trace stopped his hips from thrusting against her.

Their lips met, sending shocks throughout his system once again. Heat bloomed from his chest to his groin. He needed more; more of her heat, more of her taste, and the freedom he sensed within her.

Bessina wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him to give in to his need. Rutting against her like a damn animal, an urgent need burst in his belly. He was walking on a knife’s edge, and he didn’t care. He groaned in pleasure. Bessina, seemingly unwilling to release his lips, swallowed his moans and rocked herself along his leg.

Tasting and touching Bessina without fear or reservation, he slipped his hands beneath her shirt and slid them down the back of her pants. Squeezing handfuls of her round bottom, he lifted her slightly and held her against his erection for better friction.

She moaned and shuddered from the sheer force of his touch. As he deepened the kiss, his fangs gently scraped her tongue. At the taste of blood, Trace’s body roared into action. Without thought, he wrapped his lips around her tongue and sucked. Complete and utter bliss. Blood raced throughout him, as if it were molten lava rushing through his veins.

He wanted to lay her on the ground, explore her body, then sink his teeth deep into her veins as he thrust inside her. But then reason assaulted him. How could he debase her in that way? Would he throw her to the asphalt and fuck her? Steal her blood? These thoughts sobered him and with shaking hands, he set her down and forced himself to move away from her.

Bessina, flushed and displeased, moved forward reaching for him.

“No!” he shouted, his voice brash and laced with need. Bessina placed her hand over her mouth at his harshness. “Shit.” Anger flared in his gut. So careless, and so close to taking her in the middle of the street like an animal. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take your blood without permission.”

The forgiveness in her voice nearly did him in. “It’s okay.” She reached for him.

He pulled away again. “No, it’s not, Bessina. I bit you.”

She laughed and he scowled. “No, you didn’t. You nicked me and it felt good.”

Trace shook his head in disbelief. He knew better than this, so why was he being so reckless? Not only was he making mistakes that could cost Bessina her life, but he was bringing emotions into play that he wasn’t sure he or she could handle. He shouldn’t have kissed her, nor should he have tasted her blood. They had enough complications. He didn’t need to be lusting after her blood as well as her touch.

No, this wasn’t happening. They needed to leave—now. “Get in the car. Seriously, we’ve been out here too long.” Though he winced at his sharp tone, he didn’t amend it. He needed to pull her from the fantasy she had most assuredly created in her mind.

Holding out his hand to a lust-hazed Bessina, he motioned for her to come. And perhaps still fuzzy from the kiss, she walked beside him back to his car.

Settled inside, he watched as she adjusted the A/C and buckled herself in. She looked over at him. “That kiss—”

“No.” He shook his head. “We cannot afford distractions, Bessina.” He gripped the steering wheel to keep his hands busy. He craved to touch her again, to savor the flavor of her lips and feel her warm skin against his.

She scoffed. “Trace, I am not proposing to you. I just wanted to say that I enjoyed the kiss.” He glanced over at her and watched as a flush heated her face. “I’ve never really enjoyed a kiss before.”

Shocked he stuttered. “What do you mean?” Had no man ever kissed her with passion? How could this be?

“I don’t really want to talk about this.”

He grit his teeth in annoyance, yet allowed her her privacy. But something she’d said had sparked an idea. Some humans were allowed to know of their kind. And even though she’d been joking when she said I’m not proposing to you, it was actually a good idea. Vampires were allowed one human spouse in their lifetime.

He looked to Bessina. “I’m going to call my boss and see if I can strike a deal.”

Concern laced her voice, dwarfing the lust that was there before. “You think that will work?”

“In my line of work, there are only certain humans who are allowed to know about our existence. Lawyers, doctors, diplomats—”

She frowned wrapping her arms around herself, pulling her feet up and placing them under her sweet little ass. “And I bet ‘college student’ didn’t make the list.”

 “Well, people can be added, but there’s a process, paperwork, and guidelines.”

He didn’t miss the flash of excitement in her eyes as she turned to him and asked, “Well?”

He shifted gears as he sped down the empty street. “Shit, never mind. We can’t do that. I can think of something else.” There was no damn way he could do this to her. She was too young and had so much to live for. There was no way he could end that by tying her to him for eternity, but deep inside Trace knew there was no other way.

As effective as he was as a Watcher, Rhys dwarfed him in manpower and financial means. He would come after Bessina for an eternity and still not break the bank. Plus, he’d have the Nation on his side. Trace had indeed broken the law when he hadn’t ended Bessina’s life, as well as when he’s killed Derek. Rhys had plenty ammunition against him and could rightfully turn him in. And that was one bull’s-eye Trace didn’t want on his back, nor Bessina’s.

She interrupted his thoughts. “Tell me. If it can save me, and get you your job back, or whatever it is you want, then we should at least entertain the idea.” Bessina’s stomach growled loudly.

Trace glanced in the rearview mirror only to see the darkened road behind them. At least they weren’t being followed. “You’re hungry. We can—”

“No,” her voice held a fierceness that shut him up. “Tell me. This is my life we’re talking about.”

“What are you willing to sacrifice to stay alive, Bessina?” From the corner of his eye, he watched as she pensively gazed out of the window. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. It was the idea that he would have to tie this innocent soul to him for eternity that pissed him off.

He removed a hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her knee. “I could marry you.” There. It was out there.

What he wasn’t expecting, was laughter. He glanced at her face, lit by the ambient illumination of the streetlights. She looked utterly radiant. Smooth, warm brown skin, sweet lush lips, and eyes that held a brilliance he was sure dwarfed all others. Her head fell back, allowing brown and copper curls to fall around her face, and she let loose an adorable snort.

Trace smiled. Could he have all this beauty to himself? Could he care for her, keep her safe, and satisfied for eternity? The better question would be, would she let him?

Finally, her laughter died down and she placed a hand over his on her knee. Trace frowned as he spoke. “What the hell is so funny?” He glanced over at her again.

Wide eyed, she observed him until realization hit. “You’re kidding, right?” Her grin fell when she saw his expression.

“No, I’m not. Bessina, this is your best hope. It’s either that, or I hide you and your aunt. Rhys will send his men after you, but I can still keep you safe that way. Most likely, you will always be on the run, never in the same place for more than a few months and you could never place down roots. It’d be a hell of a life, but you’d live.” Trace had the money and the resources to do so, but over time, Rhys could end up finding them.

Trace squeezed her knee and continued. “I’m not saying you have to do it.” He hated the idea of forcing her to stay with him. “I’m saying it’s an option that doesn’t include running forever. Either way, it’s up to you.” He wanted to give her more than just one option, even if neither seemed desirable.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He didn’t dare look at her again. “Don’t say anything just yet. We’ll get food and a room and settle down for the evening.”

“Wait, how have you been eating?”

He paused, not wanting to freak her out with any more news for the night. “Blood in the trunk.”

“Oh.” She sighed and stared out the window once again.

“Like I was saying, let’s get a room, some food, call your aunt, and then we can discuss everything from there.” He removed his hand, trying to give her space, even though there wasn’t much room in the car.

Trace didn’t want to overwhelm her, but all he needed to do was marry her and get approval with the Nation; then Rhys would have to leave Bessina alone by law.

When she finally spoke, her words were no more than a whisper. “This is crazy.” Disbelief colored her voice. “So, it’d be forever?”

Trace couldn’t stop himself from looking at her. “For me, yes,” he answered honestly. “I can only do this once. This is one of the laws our people made with humans to regulate our population. The Nation will allow me one human wife to know my secret.” Trace pushed a few buttons on the GPS and found a motel only a few miles up the road.

Her eyes narrowed and her face wrinkled in confusion. “What if you choose wrong? And what do you mean ‘regulate your population’?”

He chuckled. “It doesn’t happen often, but there are times when a vamp chooses wrong. The vampire who chose the human bride or groom must petition the Nation to have another go at love. It is not often that the Nation allows this, but that has happened, too. And some humans make the change, or have children, and those are called dhampirs.”

He thought back to Sam and Hope’s odd relationship. Sam had never offered to marry her, and Hope had been in love with him. Trace had heard their conversation moments before their deaths, and that was the reason he hadn’t seen Bessina on the pier that morning. He had been too concerned with where his life was headed, and if he’d turn into Sam—old and worn; a shadow, incapable of returning love.

“Oh, so vamps pick once and it better last forever? Seems odd.”

How would he explain this to her? The Nation’s rules concerning life mates were inflexible, and he only had one shot to get it right if he chose a human. Since female vampires and dhampirs already knew about vampires’ existences, he could marry as many as he liked. But in all of his years as a dhampir, he’d yet to meet one who made him want to settle down.

“Vampires live for eternity, and while not all of us search for a life mate, the ones who do, choose wisely. You get only one human wife, and there are consequences for revealing yourselves to a human who is not a life mate.” Death.

She nodded. “Do a lot of vampires choose human brides?”

“I’ve noticed it happens more times than not.” Trace peeked over at her to gauge her reaction, but she was ready with another question.

“And if you find a female vampire or human who you want to marry while I’m married to you, then what?”

Trace gave her a soft smile. She was unsuccessful in schooling her features, and he could tell she felt genuine concern. “That won’t happen. I told you, I’d keep you safe. I meant it.”

Bessina nodded and turned back to the road. Trace would have given anything to read her mind at that moment, but that power was one he’d never been able to control. The large red blinking light to the motel came into view.

Trace decided he’d call Rhys as soon as Bessina made up her mind, but there was another call he needed to make first. Jax still hadn't gotten a text back to him. His options: hide her and turn himself in, or he’d marry her and protect her.

Bessina was silent as she thought, her pensive gaze stayed locked on the road ahead. She finally asked, “Would I have to change too?” The sound of her voice made him believe that this would be a deal breaker.

Trace pulled into the parking lot. “No.”

“Would you want me to?”

Hell yes. “That’s entirely up to you.” Trace thought for a moment. He wanted to say this right. “Bessina, I know this isn’t ideal, but if you choose the marriage option, over time, we could learn to love each other. I care about you now, and I’d like to see where it could go if you are willing.”

She bit her lip and picked at the bandages on her hands. It sucked that she’d been pulled into this situation, but it was the only other option he could offer her.

“And even if we don’t, I’ll always make sure you’re happy and safe. It’s my fault you’re in this mess, and I’ll do what it takes to get you out of it.”

His confession must have done more good than harm, because her bewilderment was gone. He could see she was actually thinking over his proposal. Watching as she played with the bandages on her hands, he gently took her hand in his and unraveled the bandages. Her hands were red and puffy, but not as bad as they had been.

“May I heal these for you?” He didn’t want to frighten her, but he was going to have to bite himself in order to place his blood on the wounds.

Bessina nodded and he positioned a fingertip under a fang and nipped it. He placed his bleeding fingertip on the wounds on her hands and knees. She watched in wonder as her abrasions and cuts healed. Trace then gently pulled the stitches out as the wounds closed.

“Holy shit,” she murmured, lifting her hands up to get a closer look.

“Yeah, holy shit is right.” He chuckled and stared at the woman who just might become his wife.

Confessions in the Dark | Top 5 playlist

 

My Top 5 Songs for Confessions in the Dark

I'll be honest, this mix is a bit darker than most of my playlists. However, I think it fits Confessions in the Dark perfectly.  Clams Casino - I'm God R.I.P David Higgs is my personal fav, but the video creeps me out!

 

 

1. Young Blood-Renhölder Remix

 

2. Epic Pop - Umbrella [feat. Jazelle](J2 - The Iconic Series)

 

3. Epic Rock - I Think We're Alone

 

4. About Her - Malcolm Mclaren

 

5. Clams Casino - I'm God R.I.P David Higgs 

 

Confessions in the Dark | Cover Reveal


The power I pulled from the moon was light magic, often called white magic. It’s from the earth and moon and is pure and whole
— Ophelia

After narrowly escaping from the Russian’s king of vampires compound, Ophelia is on the run and fighting for her life. Her first goal is to get some help; too bad she’s stuck on an island owned by Vasily. Her second and third goals consist of going back and freeing her people, and killing Vasily—not necessarily in that order.

 

When Celtic warrior and vamp badass, Irish, senses something is amiss, he goes in search of the woman who has been on his mind since their first meeting. While his old friends adjust to their new lives, Irish heads off to the dangerous North Sentinel Island, in search of his woman. What he finds there will change everything in the battle against Vasily and his men.

 
 

        Ophelia prided herself in not panicking. Her heart might have been in her throat and beating a mile a minute, but she scrolled through the SAT phone with clarity, looking through nameless numbers, hoping to see an SOS number. Unfortunately, there was nothing to clue her in to who she’d be calling if she pressed the send button.

She looked to Irish again. His greying skin signaled she had little, if any, time to act, so she pressed send on the number currently on the screen. There was a beeping noise and then the phone rang.

            He mumbled something incoherent and she crawled over to him, placing her face as close to his as she could. His eyes were still closed, moving franticly beneath the lids. In his weakened state, he feebly tried to move his hand with no success.

            In Gaelic she asked, “How can I help you?” Now she was starting to panic. If anyone found where they were hiding, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to fight them off without risking Irish. In this state, Vasily’s men were sure to kill him.

            His eyes cracked open a sliver and his fangs descended. “I need—” As if all of the strength had been zapped from him, his hand went limp and his head fell back.

            A shout came from behind her and she turned, baring her teeth in a protective stance, but no one was there. The muffled shout came again and she glanced down at the phone. Picking it up, she said, “Yes?”

            A man with a Spanish accent answered. She remembered him, Jax. “What’s wrong?” His voice was calm and soothing, which managed to help calm her as well. She examined Irish and explained everything she saw, including everything that had happened leading up to this point.

           Jax grunted. “Is there an open wound on him anywhere?” Ophelia remembered the scent of blood and burned flesh and answered with confirmation. “Okay, can you get to it?”

            She took a deep breath and wedged the SAT phone between her ear and shoulder. Pushing with both hands, she got him to roll onto his back. She opened his leather vest and pulled up his cotton shirt. The scent of blood and decay wafted up from the wound. It seeped and oozed blood and a clear liquid.

            Ophelia covered her mouth at the atrocious scent. How was it decaying when it’d only been there for a few hours? “Yes, I see it. It looks bad and it’s bleeding. The blood is really dark though. Do you know what I should do?”

          There was a silence, a flurry of curses, and then in a measured tone Jax said, “How do you feel about being bitten?” His voice sounded grim, as if this were the only option and he wasn’t sure she’d agree to it.

          She cleared her throat and placed her hand to her neck. Heat flared in her collar and her heart gave an extra few thumps in anticipation. “Will it save him? Is there no other way?”

          Jax sighed. “Yes, but you don’t have enough time. If you don’t give him your blood, he will die. He’s been poisoned with liquid silver and Olfbreathe seed is the only other cure. I doubt you’ll find it there. Weather conditions aren’t stable enough to grow it.”

          It didn’t take long to make a decision. When everyone else had chalked up her disappearance as dismissal, Irish was the only one who’d wanted to free her from the confines of her place in the pack. “Okay, but how do I get him to bite? He’s not awake.” She eyed him again, searching for signs of life. He was breathing, but that was it.

            “There’s a weapon in his shoe. Use that.”

She searched for the weapon. A trap opened in the bottom of his shoe and she pulled the small blade from inside. Once she was positioned beside him, Ophelia placed his head in her lap and created as small cut on her wrist. Not too close to the artery, but not too far away either. Coaxing his mouth open, she placed her wrist above his mouth and waited—nothing.

            “Jax,” panic laced her voice, “he’s not—”

Before she could finish, Irish’s chest bowed and his fangs clamped down on her skin. At first, she thought to scream, but then his sharp fangs parted her flesh with a delicious burn that made her body sing. A moment later, she opened her eyes to find herself on her back with Irish on top of her.

Her blood dripped from his mouth, his face twisted in a feral grimace. Unsure of whether to push him away, or caress him, she put her hand on his chest and steadied her own breath. He panted above her, body tight and hot. Without thinking, she parted her knees, allowing Irish to settle in deeper. His considerable arousal lay heavy between them, cradled by her warm, soft thighs.

He lowered to her neck, but was stopped by her palm on his chest. He looked at her hand before flicking it away. Ophelia gasped, but didn’t stop his descent. The idea of Irish, fangs deep in her neck, sent excitement shooting through her core. He scraped the tips of his fangs over the delicate hollow of her neck.

She shuddered, and before she knew it, her hand flew to the back of his head and pulled him closer. All she could remember was the feel of his mouth over her wrist, the way it felt as he took her blood; each pull, yanking common sense from her body and replacing it with raw need.  

 

Echo and Via Part II SINNERS IN THE DARK

If you were a real attacker, I could have quebbed the shit out of your vampy ass.
— Via

Echo’s fist barreled through the air in blinding speed, and Via just stood there in a haze, as wrath and fury burned through her blood. She thought to duck, move to the side, or even deflect the hit, but instead she’d been so infuriated and stunned by the words he’d flung at her, her mind misfired, then froze.

Humans taste better when they struggle.

The words echoed through her mind, getting louder and louder the closer Echo’s fist made it to her face. There was no proof he’d been speaking about her brother when he made the comment; he hadn’t been there that night and she’d never told a soul. So how in the fuck had he known what the vampire in the woods had whispered as he killed her brother? Via’s concentration was split between what Echo had said and how she could kill him for saying it.

            The blow to her mouth felt as if she’d been hit with a wrecking ball, burning with hellfire. Spit, blood, and maybe a few teeth went flying through the air as Via’s head snapped to the side. Her vision flickered and her stomach roiled, nearly sending all the blood Echo had fed her hurling through the air.

Dimly, she heard Echo growl, before his knee plowed into her gut in a crushing blow. The words ‘pay attention’ and ‘get back into stance’ were thrown at her, but her brain was in haze mode.

Throughout the days of training, Echo had held nothing back. He’d kicked her ass up and down his backyard. Busted lip? Not a problem his vampire blood couldn’t handle. A bruised coccyx bone and some broken bones? Yeah, ten gulps of Echo’s blood and she was good as a new punching bag.

Another fist that felt like an anvil slammed into her face and this time Via did fall . . . and hard. Her battered body hit the ground so hard her bones rattled, and she lost the battle with holding down Echo’s blood. Turning her head just in time, blood exploded up from her gut, out of her mouth, and onto the grass. Darkness seeped into her vision and just before Via lost consciousness, she heard what she thought was a flurry of curse words.

            The scent of ammonium carbonate burned the back of Via’s throat and nose, firing up her gag reflex. She lifted her hand and blindly swatted it away, coughing up her lungs. “O–okay, I’m up,” she rasped. A strong hand lifted her up into a sitting position and shoved what felt like a cup into her hands. The scent of Echo’s blood had her lips on the rim and her throat working down massive gulps.

            “Hurry up and drink.” Echo’s hard voice flittered through her muffled hearing. “We are about to lose daylight, and I’d like to show you where you fucked up this time.”

Via gulped faster, taking more, and ignored the pain in her lips and cheeks as she sucked down Echo’s blood like hot chocolate in front of a fire on a cold winter’s night. Her lips began to heal and the throbbing in her jaw lessened, turning into a dull roar. If Via didn’t have his blood, she was sure as shit she wouldn’t survive Echo’s brutal assaults.

She took some of his blood before, during, and after each lesson and the blood loss didn’t seem to affect Echo in the least. Via, on the other hand, had probably been saved from certain death because Echo’s attacks were swift, precise, and deadly.

            “Seems you aren’t holding anything back.” Via spoke over the rim of the cup as soon as her lips were completely healed.

Echo crouched down beside her, with an indiscernible expression on his face. He scanned her body for any wounds. Lifting her lip with his thumb, he tried to wiggle her front tooth. His finger tasted of salt and her blood and she swatted it away. The shift from killer to caretaker was quite jarring. During each bout, he’d treat her as if she were the enemy, rarely speaking to her, unless it was to instruct or enrage her. She wasn’t even sure if she’d improved over the course of the two days he’d been trying to train/kill her.

            He stood, the concerned look on his face morphing into a determined mask, then he took two measured steps away from her and dropped into a crouching stance. “I have done nothing to make your training easy. If anything, I have been harder on you than most of my enemies, and for good reason.”

She dropped the cup in the grass as she stood and moved into a similar position. She agreed and nodded. “Yes—”

In what seemed to be a blur of movement, Echo charged Via. Blocking each hit she made, he thrust out a foot and had her on the ground, crushed under his hard frame. Every bit of air had been squeezed from her lungs, and she was sure she’d cracked a rib. Each movement sent a searing pain throughout her body, but she managed to rebound by using some of the strength from his blood and switch their positions. Finally, Via was on top and—

Echo’s eyes narrowed, yet he didn’t give her but three seconds to gloat before he’d used his knee to bring her to her hands and knees. Abruptly, he moved away from her, releasing her from his crushing hold. Via stayed on the ground, struggling to breathe with a cracked rib.

            “Good job,” he said as he stood over her. With a knife, he opened a vein in his wrist and placed it over her mouth. A moment later, he pulled away.

Healing freaking hurt. She gritted her teeth and endured the pain as the bone mended. Breathing as if she’d just fought a rhino and lost, Via stood and followed Echo into the house. “You know,” she said around panting breaths, “I can’t see where I did a good job out there.”

She leaned, or rather fell into the wall for balance, as Echo made himself a cup of coffee. She wanted some, but moving hurt. Yeah, the aches and pains were turning into nothing but twinges, but Echo had beaten her ass for the last five hours. Via was a sprinter, not a marathoner, and her body needed time to adjust after each fight.

            Echo took his damned precious time responding as he savored a sip of his coffee and then prepared his dinner of AB neg, popping it into the microwave. “You subdued me.” He alternated sips of the coffee and blood, and Via grimaced.

            “Yeah, but only for a second or two.” What was he getting at? He eyed her like she was a damned fool, and she was starting to feel like one . . . until it hit her. “Oh shit!” She stood up straight, thankful that Echo’s healing blood had worked so damned fast. “If you were a real attacker, I could have quebbed the shit out of your vampy ass!”  

Echo and Via in SINNERS IN THE DARK

17 and up Language and Adult Situations

Sinners in the Dark New Adult Paranormal Romance

 

March 25th, 2016


Finish that fucking word, Via, and I will show you how sadistic I can truly be.
— Echo

If he called her Buffy one more time, she’d knee him in the family jewels. She detested being at someone else’s mercy. She hadn’t needed anyone’s help to stay alive since her family’s death, which had been years ago. How was she supposed to turn over that kind of control, even if it meant her life?

“You keep throwing in my face that you govern whether I live or die. It makes you a sick, sadistic bastard, just like I always thought you were.”

Either her words didn’t affect Echo, or his acting skills surpassed any other actor’s. He just sat in the chair, facing her. Watching her.

Via’s legs would hold her up only for a few more moments before she tumbled to the ground. Reaching out, she steadied herself with a shaking hand. “You like being in control, don’t you?” Egging him on was most definitely stupid, but anger overruled common sense. He’d thrown some hard hits at her, alluding to her past and freaking comparing her to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Eh, the latter wasn’t so bad, but the first was something akin to a physical blow to the gut. “You like this? Seeing me at my worst?”

She flinched when Echo shot up and moved in a blur of motion, ending up directly in front of her. His face distorted in anger. “You think I like you when you are weak and whining like a bitter child?” He rammed his hands against the wall beside her head so hard it shuddered and plaster cracked, trapping her where she stood. “This is your fault and no one else’s. Don’t you forget that!” he bellowed.

Via’s anger was not to be outdone. “My fault that you’re a sadist—”

“Finish that fucking word, Via, and I will show you how sadistic I can truly be.” His accent nearly garbled his words, which only happened when Echo was roaring to kill.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and Via’s instincts kicked in. She tried to knee Echo in the balls, but he deflected her weak blow with his knee and a hard grunt. Echo leaned into her, using his weight to hold her immobile. He squeezed his fist in her hair when she struggled. Normally, Via would have no trouble getting free, but her body wasn’t responding the way she needed it to. When she wanted to move away, Echo’s body offered support; when she wanted to scream, he tightened his hand in her hair and that goddamned blood connection kept her heart thundering.

Echo placed his warm lips on Via’s ear and whispered, “Tell me, my little vampire slayer, are you used to having people treat you like a broken princess? Stepping on eggshells around the tortured orphan?” He grabbed one of her wrists with his other hand and clenched his fist in her hair, yanking the strands.

Via tried in vain to untangle his fingers from her head. She shook her head in disbelief. “A princess?” What kind of royalty am I? Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov? After what happened to her parents, it made sense. Only she survived the massacre. In the end, it was discovered Anastasia hadn’t truly survived at all. She and Via had quite a lot in common as she was dead inside.

“That’s what I asked.”

“No, they have never treated me that way, and you know it.”

“Bullshit!” He leaned away. “Back at HQ, they all walk on eggshells around you. Muttering under their breaths, ‘Poor, sad Via. She lost her mommy and daddy.’”

Some of the fight left her, though not at the mention of her parents. She was unable to deny her body’s plea for rest. “To hell with you, dhamp.”

He gave her a scornful look that spoke volumes of anger and disappointment even as he lessened his hold on her. “No, little girl. You did this to yourself. You let your hate blind you to the shit right in front of your face. You aren’t as big and tough as you think you are, and if you don’t take more of my blood, you will die.”

Being brave isn’t synonymous for being stupid, you know only my blood can heal you. Unless you know another dhampir willing to save your life after all the shit you talk about them—” Echo released her hair and clutched her face, which ensured she looked nowhere but in his eyes. “And, Via, I won’t fight for your life. That’s your job. Take more of my blood and live, or go the fuck away.” Echo pushed away from her, and Via used the wall to steady herself.

She searched her mind for something to throwback at him—something personal that would cut deep the way he’d just cut her—but because she knew so little about him, she came up empty. “You just want to be able to see in my head and use shit against me. I know what you’re about . . . complete and utter control.” She raised her chin rebelliously. “I’m your partner, remember? I’m trained to sense these things about you.”

Echo laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Yep, but if you are strong and smart enough, you’ll realize you can do that same shit right back to me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. “Bullshit!” she shot out, though she hoped he wasn’t lying. She didn’t know as much about the blood connection as she should have, solely because she’d spent her time studying dhampirs’ and vampires’ fighting habits and staying far away when they were feeding or mating.

Echo shrugged. “Whatever, Via, but make a choice or get out. I’m sick of this shit.” He strolled to the bed and sat down. “I was planning a nice nap when your bleeding ass so rudely interrupted my plans.” Echo kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head.

Via took in the massive expanse of his side and chest, including the scars and tattoos. Bullet wounds, knife slashings, and razor whips created their own brand of tattoos across his back. Clinging to the wall for whatever support it offered, she glanced away, but not before seeing the strange words inked across Echo’s muscled back as he turned away from her. She couldn’t read Cyrillic, but many Orthodox Slavic countries still used the symbols.

She’d never asked Echo about his origins, but rumors had spread throughout the Sect the day he arrived. She wondered about his age more than anything else. If the rumors were right, Echo was born in the eighteenth century. Still, that didn’t make him super strong, or give him a one-up on younger dhampirs. She’d learned that dhampirs acquired extra strength by a healthy supply of blood and, like any human, exercise. More powerful than the average human, a dhampir’s strength only grew if he or she honed it.

Glancing back at Echo, who was still facing away from her and pulling the covers off the bed, Via knew he’d been working at it. His muscles held definition without being overwhelming, his legs were solid and powerful, and his biceps, though not gargantuan, looked as if they’d taken time and care to create. She observed him in fights, and though he wasn’t her partner by choice, Via like to believe that Austin had placed his two best fighters together for a reason.

Echo regarded her over his shoulder. A sly smile graced his lips. “How long you planning on staring?”

Via straightened as best she could and turned away. She listened as Echo climbed onto the bed.

“You can stay for a day, two tops, if you let me give you the proper amount of blood to heal you and cleanse your blood faster. But you have to stay here. My blood is not on the take-out menu.” He chuckled at his own corny ass joke.

However, Via was not in a joking mood. She truly believed Echo would use their blood connection to convince her to sleep with him. And at the moment, she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to deny him. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”

He didn’t seem annoyed or offended as he answered, “I have a bedroom down the hall. Sleep there.” He patted the spot beside him on the bed. “Come here. We’ll do it here.” Via cocked a brow, and Echo laughed. “We will exchange blood here.”

She took in the sight of Echo sprawled out on the bed, waiting for her. Via clutched her stomach as a burning need bloomed within her. “You said—”

“You want this to be even, yes?” His accent thickened, giving his words a harsh gravelly sound.

“What’s with the accent all of a sudden?” she asked to stall for time. “It’s not normally that thick.”

Echo rolled his eyes then lay back. “I’ve always been from Ukraine, and I’ve always had an accent.”

“Yeah, but not so thick.”

He placed his arms behind his head. “It’s thick when I’m annoyed or,” he opened an eye and observed Via, placing a hand on his crotch, “horny. Now get over here. I can see in your eyes that you are getting weaker. We need to give my blood time to take root and negate the poison’s effect.”

Sinners in the Dark | Teaser

I want you, all of you, but not until you are ready. And just because nothing comes of our coupling, doesn’t mean I won’t respect you as a fighter, and most of all as a survivor.
— Echo

Lightly edited and subject to change.

She looked at him wide-eyed. “You are asking me to sleep with you, and in return, you will give me money and skills.” She waved her hands around in exasperation. “First off, you can forget the money; I can get that from Austin. I want the skills you promise no one else can teach, but I don’t want to whore myself out for it!” Her bright eyes speared him, and he smiled. She growled. “See? You like it when I’m angry!”

She turned to leave, but Echo moved faster. He raced across the room and grabbed Via’s arm. Turning her around, he ducked as her fist made its way to his face, and blocked the knee headed to his crotch. He pushed her against the wall, pinning her arms behind her back and her legs with his, then leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“You are damn right, I like it when you’re angry. I like it when you get that glint in your eyes and tell me just how things are going to be.” He pressed his body closer to hers until he could feel the warmth of her skin through his thin T-shirt. She struggled and he held her hands tighter. He’d never force her. He’d never force any woman. At that point, he was just protecting his dick from some unwanted handling.

            “Get off me,” she said through gritted teeth. Echo rubbed his lips against her cheek. She smelled so damned sweet. How any man could stand to be around her and not, at least, want to taste her lips amazed him.

            “Not until you listen to what I am truly offering you.” He moved back just enough to look her in her eyes. Two laser beams bored through him, searching for his most intimate secrets. He’d keep them guarded, locked away. Echo could hear her heart racing in her chest from either anger or attraction. He wanted her all the more.

            Via released a shuddering breath. “I know what you are offering.”   

            He chuckled as she squirmed. “No, you don’t, Via. I am not asking you to be my whore.” He hoped she believed him. He was asking for a part of her that she saved and kept tucked away—her trust. Echo desired sex as well, but he wanted it with her and for some reason the thought of another man having it bothered him. “I’m not asking if I can get off and be done, and I’m not asking to tie you up to a bed and spank you.” Although he’d definitely do the latter, if she allowed him.

          Via stopped moving, and he hoped she was listening.

          “I’m asking to fuck you, yes, but I also want to make sure you are pleased. I’m selfish everywhere else in my life, but Via,” he released her hands and positioned them around his waist, “I’m not selfish in bed, not where it counts. I won’t be the only one enjoying the night.”

       Echo placed a testing kiss on her lips. He could taste her breath and feel her heartbeat; pleased when every bit of fight left her body and molded to his. Her lips parted in a moan, and he took advantage by lightly brushing his tongue across them before exploring her warm mouth. 

READ MORE HERE

Teaser Tuesday | Sinners in the Dark


Every battle cannot be won, but once you are dead, when that moment has come, you have forever lost.
— Echo

 

 

*subject to change | lightly edited*

           With a carefree attitude she didn’t truly feel, Via swayed to the heavy bass filled music. In the past, Via yearned for a time in which she could live a carefree life and experience casual encounters like every other twenty-something out there, but as soon as the scent of the vamp filled her senses Via realized that for her, that day would never come.

            A hand wrapped tightly around her wrist and yanked from in between the dancing couple, and she watched as they resumed their earlier grinding. Via twisted her wrist, using a bit more strength than she’d intended. She had to play this just right. Echo had clued her in to this vamp and the fact that the Sect had hunted him before.

            Taking a deep breath, Via loosened her body pushing the tension from her muscles, and leaned back into the vamp. Waves of curiosity mixed with anger and hunger settled around her, yet still, the vamp wrapped an arm around her waist and moved with her swaying body to the music. Via attempted not to shudder, but the idea of the blood sucking fiend touching her had her body shaking from head to toe.

            “At the bar,” she could feel his warm breath against her skin as he spoke, “what did you call me?” His voice was deep and thick, and he carried the same accent as Echo’s, but with this vamp, his words were stilted as if he were new to speaking English. He pulled her closer, and to bystanders it would look as if their dance had just gotten a bit more intimate; however, for Via, his grip was actually restricting her ability to move. “I ask because I assume a smart woman,” as he spoke his hand moved from her waist and slowly slid up to her neck, “would think twice before speaking of vampires.”

            Via pulled away only to move a mere inch; his grasp was tight and unyielding. She was well aware that her blood mixed with Echo’s flowed through her veins, and as a result, she knew this vamp had no misgivings about her creatures’ of the night knowledge. However, this would definitely set her apart from the blondes at the bar. “I only speak the truth, and you are a vampire.” Via’s heart thundered in her chest. Her normal plan of action with killing vamps was to hunt them from the darkness and then kill them. Never had she used an up close and personal plan of attack, and never had she used her blood or body as bait.

            As the song transformed into a slow, sexy, pulsing beat allowing for a more sensual dance, the vamp pressed his body closer to hers and moved as if they were a couple contemplating leaving together. “Truths? Ah, I see, and a truth I sense is that you are a blood whore, yes?” She stiffened, offended that this piece of crap had the nerve to call her a whore. Yeah, she was playing the role of a blood whore by calling him out and acting as if she was interested in his fangs, but the accusation still sent anger and heat flooding through her veins. Whore, she could brush off, but blood whore? “I can smell the blood of an immortal flowing throughout you.” His grip tightened painfully around her waist and his voice held a tinge of anger. Swaying with the beat, he added, “This means you have no way to repay me for the beverage you forced me to buy for you if your blood is diluted with that of another immortal's blood.”

          Via chuckled at his anger. “Is that the going rate for a sip of blood?” She used a bit of her enhanced strength to twist around in his arms. “A mere rum and Coke?” Ice blue eyes bore into her, filling her with a sense of danger. Her heart rate tripled and a warm flush stole over her body. Via loved danger and tonight was no different.