After a moment, he found my neck, kissing the nape, his teeth grazing my skin and causing me to make a small noise very much like a whimper. Before I could take another breath, his lips met mine and I was lost to his touch.
How do you know me, girl?” He asked, his voice caked with venom. There was movement from the curtains and the throng of vamps seemed to cry out as one, in a sound of pure surprise. My head turned towards the figure of a young man. He looked like an angel, dressed in white and gold, but whether that was because he caused Petrel to stop or the flickering candlelight from the sconces above us, I couldn’t say.
You really shouldn’t have come,” Lord Blackthorne said, his hand slipping across my face to cup my jaw, fingers brushing my cheek. I shrieked, shrinking back and kicking at my captor with stocking-covered feet. “Such a pretty child, in such an ugly place. Tell me, do you think your dear husband would mind if I stole a kiss from the bride?” Kicking him in the shin, I spun, making him release me. I climbed off whatever I’d landed on, aiming my palms out and wishing that I could see what the heck was happening. Flames from dozens of candles blinked at me as they lit with the power of my mind. Lord Blackthorne touched my shoulder, his other hand curving around the bodice of my gown, toying with the beading along the neckline.
Simple and predictable seem pretty darn tantalizing when you’re a witch. Lately, I’ve wished for a lot of things to be the way they were. Gone are my lust for the macabre and the sweetly sinful fantasies of meeting a vampire. Something about unconscious people slumped against the dark leather of the booths at crimson made it less sexy.
Linsey pulled away, smiling in a way that would have made him look almost angelic if it wasn’t for the blood smeared around his mouth. When he licked his lips clean, the angelic image became clearer. Blood welled up from two small cuts on his bottom lip, pooling in the full sweep his skin. I knew it wasn’t just my blood that I’d tasted.
