Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Do I have new powers when I’m with him?
His blood seems to give me something more, but I don’t know exactly what.
And at the moment I don’t care. All I care about is Rogan’s tongue, Rogan’s lips, Rogan’s hands squeezing my breasts and thumbing my nipples.
He breaks the kiss and gasps. “Christ, princess.”
I don’t respond. I get it. His kisses consume me, and apparently they do the same to him. It’s like a bubble envelops us, takes us out of this world into another where only the two of us exist—our bodies and our pleasure.
I want more, damn it.
I may not ever have his love—I may never be able to give it to him in return either—but I deserve his honesty.
I open my mouth, ready to say the words, but he bites my nipple. Bites it right through my shirt.
I cry out in pleasure, pain, pleasure again.
I imagine him breaking the skin, sucking my blood as I suck his. It wouldn’t do anything to him, but I desire it more than anything. I want him to taste my blood. I want him to tell me how it feels on his tongue. I want to know that it drives him as crazy as his drives me. Blood lust. My weakness, but when I drink Rogan’s blood? It becomes my strength.
He continues to chew on my nipple. I thread my fingers through his disheveled hair.
My God, he’s magnificent. The perfect physical specimen. His tangled hair still feels like strands of silk against my hands.
He moves from one nipple to the other, and I wish I could snap my fingers and dissolve my shirt so his lips could be right on my flesh.
“My God, Rogan. Please.”
“Please what, princess?” He returns to my nipple.
“You know what I want.”
“Here? In a car?” His tone is sardonic.
Yeah, I asked for that.
“Yes, please. Here. A car. Anywhere. Everywhere.”
We’re not in a limo, but we are in a large sedan. Still, there’s not room enough for—
Maybe there is. Somehow he disrobes me in what seems like a flash of lightning.
Then his cock is inside me. Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting.
And I’m fulfilled.
Deeply fulfilled.
I don’t know where my legs are. I don’t know where his are. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is the joining, the completion, the consummation of...
Of what?
We’ve consummated whatever this is many times before, but what exactly is this thing between us? He may understand it, but I do not.
Understanding is overrated.
What isn’t overrated is the orgasm building in me as he bangs on my clit with each thrust. Tingles shoot through me, like arrows forged from lust, and I implode. Right in the backseat of the black sedan, I implode, energy pulsing from the fine hair on my skin all the way to my core, to my pussy, to my clit.
To the depths of my soul.
And I swear to God...
I can’t live without this. I can’t live without this feeling of true completion. This feeling of...being home.
He releases in me then, groaning and grunting. “Hannah. My God...”
Hannah. Again he calls me Hannah.
And his name leaves my lips on a sigh.
“Victor...”
We lie in our ecstasy for moment, and I’m not really sure how we’re comfortable, but we both seem to be.
“I never really had a home,” I find myself saying.
“What?”
“A home. I guess the one constant was my mother. My father never liked me much, and then my stepfather came, and if possible he hated me even more.”
“Your stepfather’s a demon, princess. He hates everyone.”
“Not my mother. He loves her, in his way. He told me so and I believe him. I’m not sure why, but I do. And strangely enough? I think my father loved her too. But neither of them loved me. My stepfather sure didn’t. My father? He recognizes our blood bond, but love? I don't think he's capable of it.”
“But you did have a home,” Rogan says.
“I did maybe. My mother, I guess. But she chose my stepfather over me, so it was no longer my home once he came.”
Rogan caresses my cheek. “I’m your home now.”
The truth of his words spikes straight into my heart.
This is honesty. This is the honesty I want from him. He’s telling me the truth. To him, I am home.
And if he can be honest about that, he can be honest about everything.
“Victor...”
“Yes, Hannah?”
“Thank you. Thank you for giving me a home.”
“Thank you for the same.”
Warmth envelops me. The warmth of Rogan’s arms, yes, but something more. And if this is home...
“Please,” I say. “Tell me. Who cut out the hearts of those vampires?”
38
"I can't tell you that, princess."
"Damn it, Rogan. Why not?"
"I'm bound. Just as you're bound by blood to your father, so am I bound to my pack."
"Bound to keep something from me? From your mate?"
"For God's sake. I have obligations, just like you do, and I don't always like them. You of all people should understand. Do you like having to jump whenever your vampire king calls?"