A Hunger Like No Other by Kresley Cole

a man. But now, as then, he thought it unlikely she was virgin, since not many immortals made it through centuries abstaining. She was just small and, as she’d said, shy.
    Remembering her tight sheath made his cock go painfully hard for it. He lifted her into his lap, turning her side to his chest. She stiffened, no doubt from his shaft throbbing under her arse.
    Urges wracked him. She was wearing the silk that was little more than a string, and the sight of it was even better than his imaginings. He opened his mouth to simply inform her that he was about to stroke his fingers between her legs and then settle her down on his shaft. But before he could, her delicate hands lighted upon his chest, their paleness standing out against his skin. She waited a moment as if testing the waters. When he did nothing about her hands, she rested her face against him, settling in to sleep.
    He drew back his head and frowned down at her, bewildered by this. Was this…did she trust him? Trust him not to take her while she slept? Damn it, why would she do that?
    With a foul curse, he lifted her from the water. Her hands were still against his chest, clutching a little. He toweled her off, then laid her on the bed, her blond hair fanning out, the ends damp. The exquisite scent of it swept him up.
    Shaking, he peeled her wicked undergarments from her. He inwardly groaned at her body, about to spread her legs and set upon it with a vengeance.
    Barely awake, she murmured, “Can I sleep in one of your shirts?”
    He stood back, clenching his fists, brows drawn. Why would she want to be dressed in his clothing? Why did he want it as well? He ached, he needed to be inside her so badly, and yet he was stalking to his bag. At this rate, he’d be returning to the shower and bringing himself release. How else could he make it through the day with her?
    He dressed her in one of his new undershirts though it swallowed her, then put her under the cover. Just as he’d drawn it up to her chin, she woke and sat up. She squinted at him, turned to regard the window, then gathered the cover and the pillow and bedded down on the floor, tucking herself into the side of the bed.
    Out of the path of the window.
    When he scooped her up, she whispered, “No. I need to be down there. I like it down there.”
    Of course she did. Vampires craved low places, sleeping in shadowed corners and under beds. As a Lykae, he’d always known exactly where to find them to sever their heads before they even woke.
    Anger flared again. “No longer.” She slept with him from now on, and he would never even entertain the idea of accepting that unnatural custom of his enemy. “I will no’ let the sun get you again, but you’ll break yourself of this.”
    “Why do you care?” she asked so softly he barely heard her.
    Because you’ve been out of my bed for far too long .
    Annika’s broken body lay trapped in the bricks. Helpless, she could do nothing but watch when the vampire brushed away Lucia’s arrows as though they were flies.
    Annika shared Lucia’s obvious disbelief. Cursed long ago to feel unfathomable pain if she missed a target, Lucia suddenly shrieked, dropping her bow as she fell. She lay writhing, her fingers curled, screaming until she’d shattered every window and light in the manor.
    In the distance, a Lykae howled, a deep, guttural sound of rage.
    Darkness, except for the lightning now thrashing the earth and a flickering gas lamp outside.
    Ivo’s red eyes were ablaze in the lamplight, his expression amused. Lothaire secretly appeared in the background once more but did nothing. Lucia still screamed. The Lykae roared in answer—nearing them? Regin alone against three. “Leave us, Regin,” Annika bit out.
    Then…a shadow moved inside. White teeth and fangs. Pale blue eyes glowed in the darkness. It crept over to Lucia’s twitching form. Annika could do nothing. So helpless. In the scant lulls between bolts, he looked human. In the silver flashes, he