A Venetian Vampire

“He didn’t tell me what to do. I want to do this for him. I owe him.”

“Ah? For what, may I ask?”

“None of your business.”

“But the he you mention is the same he you’ve stolen the egg for?”

“This conversation is over.” She turned to pick up the backpack, and he placed a hand against the wall over her shoulder.

“Since we can’t leave,” Dante said, “and since we’ve dispensed with the get-to-know-you bullshit, and you’ve set a boundary on conversation topics, I’m of a mind to make a suggestion for a new activity.”

She could make one guess what that activity was, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—succumb to his seductions. No matter that this was the first time she’d seen him in daylight and noticed how clear his sea glass eyes were. Cool and mysterious, like the Venetian lagoon.

“And what is your suggestion?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“We can either turn up the volume on the television and zone out on some idiotic talk show, or...” He leaned in until his nose brushed her wet hair above her ear. “Despite the fact you’re fully dressed, I could nail you to the wall with this.” The heavy weight of his cock beneath the towel thudded against her hip.

Kyler maintained a modicum of strength. “I thought you liked the red shirt?”

He nodded and nuzzled his nose aside her cheek. “I do. The color makes your skin glow. But it’s a bit loose. It doesn’t emphasize your assets as something tighter would. I like your curves, Kitten.” He licked her skin. Shivers traced her spine. The vampiric shimmer sparkled into her belly. “All of them.”

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