dangerous. Anticipation shouldn’t be alive in her. Her skin shouldn’t be on fire everywhere that his body touched hers.
And the way he spoke, his voice hoarse and ragged as though he truly yearned for her, made his words both a plea and a confident command. How could he sound both brash and vulnerable? But his vulnerability spoke to her heart.
Did he really think of her as his savior?
What about Yannick? Her heart had soared with him last night, had clenched in fear with worry that he might not find safety. Her foolish, traitorous heart could not flip its allegiance from one man to another so easily, could it?
No, what she felt for Bastien wasn’t at all the same. It was sympathy and sorrow and concern. Nothing more. Even though he’d been in her dreams, seductive and skilled and gorgeous. It couldn’t be more.
But Bastien’s mouth was wet fire along her neck. Burning oil flaming across water.
“Choose me,” he repeated, tempting as the devil.
She caught hold of her senses. “I’m a vampire hunter. I won’t choose either of you.”
His strong arms tightened, clamping her against his solid body, trapping his thick, erect cock between her spine and him. It felt enormous and rock hard, prodding her back. And strangely, his snug embrace made her feel safe, even though she should fear the strength inherent in his strong, hard body.
He was so different from Yannick. His chest smoother, his legs and arms leaner. His longer hair, gold, tangled with hers as he kissed her neck. But his voice and Yannick’s were so very alike, so much so that she quivered in shock each time he spoke. But they must be different, she guessed, in other ways. Yannick exuded both the arrogance of a peer and the gentleness of a loving man. Bastien had wistfully called her his savior, but he chuckled wickedly as he traced his fangs softly along her neck. Her nerves tensed and shrieked in panic. When he suckled her shoulder at the neckline of her nightdress, with soft lips and wet tongue instead of fangs, relief Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 53
slammed into desire, and she swayed at the combination.
Bastien held her up. He filled his hands with her breasts, squeezing them through her crumpled muslin nightgown.
“So you want us to slay Zayan for you and then you’ll kill us?” His voice was a gravelly rasp.
She flinched. She didn’t know. Didn’t know. “How did you know that’s why you were…resurrected?”
“I could hear every word you and your father and that Irish bloke uttered, lass.”
“I thought you couldn’t—”
His fingers plucked her nipples and she jumped at the sudden, delicious pleasure. Her bottom thrust back against his erection.
“Do you understand, Althea, why Zayan imprisoned me?”
She shouldn’t enjoy his touch on her breasts. She mustn’t. “Because you could kill him. I understand now that you and…and Yannick must be together to destroy him.”
“Wouldn’t it have made far more sense just to destroy one of us? With one or both dead, Zayan need never fear us.” He straightened, lifting his lips from her neck. But his hands stayed on her breasts. Each massaging stroke sent a jolt of need down to her quim. She was wet and hot, but lust was all mixed up with fear.
She managed to twist around, but in the dark she could not see his face. His breath whispered over her cheek. Even to her whirling brain, his words made sense. Why had Zayan spared them?
“I’ve no idea why he didn’t kill Yannick.” One hand dropped to rest over her belly. Fingers began bunching up the gown. The hem slid up in front. Bastien murmured in his deep baritone,
“But Zayan didn’t kill me because we were lovers once.”
She must have misunderstood. “ Who were lovers?”
“Zayan and I.” A trace of jaded amusement flitted through his words.
How she wished she could see in the dark! She tried to turn more, following the sound of his voice. Her hand bumped his lean,
And the way he spoke, his voice hoarse and ragged as though he truly yearned for her, made his words both a plea and a confident command. How could he sound both brash and vulnerable? But his vulnerability spoke to her heart.
Did he really think of her as his savior?
What about Yannick? Her heart had soared with him last night, had clenched in fear with worry that he might not find safety. Her foolish, traitorous heart could not flip its allegiance from one man to another so easily, could it?
No, what she felt for Bastien wasn’t at all the same. It was sympathy and sorrow and concern. Nothing more. Even though he’d been in her dreams, seductive and skilled and gorgeous. It couldn’t be more.
But Bastien’s mouth was wet fire along her neck. Burning oil flaming across water.
“Choose me,” he repeated, tempting as the devil.
She caught hold of her senses. “I’m a vampire hunter. I won’t choose either of you.”
His strong arms tightened, clamping her against his solid body, trapping his thick, erect cock between her spine and him. It felt enormous and rock hard, prodding her back. And strangely, his snug embrace made her feel safe, even though she should fear the strength inherent in his strong, hard body.
He was so different from Yannick. His chest smoother, his legs and arms leaner. His longer hair, gold, tangled with hers as he kissed her neck. But his voice and Yannick’s were so very alike, so much so that she quivered in shock each time he spoke. But they must be different, she guessed, in other ways. Yannick exuded both the arrogance of a peer and the gentleness of a loving man. Bastien had wistfully called her his savior, but he chuckled wickedly as he traced his fangs softly along her neck. Her nerves tensed and shrieked in panic. When he suckled her shoulder at the neckline of her nightdress, with soft lips and wet tongue instead of fangs, relief Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 53
slammed into desire, and she swayed at the combination.
Bastien held her up. He filled his hands with her breasts, squeezing them through her crumpled muslin nightgown.
“So you want us to slay Zayan for you and then you’ll kill us?” His voice was a gravelly rasp.
She flinched. She didn’t know. Didn’t know. “How did you know that’s why you were…resurrected?”
“I could hear every word you and your father and that Irish bloke uttered, lass.”
“I thought you couldn’t—”
His fingers plucked her nipples and she jumped at the sudden, delicious pleasure. Her bottom thrust back against his erection.
“Do you understand, Althea, why Zayan imprisoned me?”
She shouldn’t enjoy his touch on her breasts. She mustn’t. “Because you could kill him. I understand now that you and…and Yannick must be together to destroy him.”
“Wouldn’t it have made far more sense just to destroy one of us? With one or both dead, Zayan need never fear us.” He straightened, lifting his lips from her neck. But his hands stayed on her breasts. Each massaging stroke sent a jolt of need down to her quim. She was wet and hot, but lust was all mixed up with fear.
She managed to twist around, but in the dark she could not see his face. His breath whispered over her cheek. Even to her whirling brain, his words made sense. Why had Zayan spared them?
“I’ve no idea why he didn’t kill Yannick.” One hand dropped to rest over her belly. Fingers began bunching up the gown. The hem slid up in front. Bastien murmured in his deep baritone,
“But Zayan didn’t kill me because we were lovers once.”
She must have misunderstood. “ Who were lovers?”
“Zayan and I.” A trace of jaded amusement flitted through his words.
How she wished she could see in the dark! She tried to turn more, following the sound of his voice. Her hand bumped his lean,
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