In the Dead of Cold by Allie Quinn

more to fight for than himself. He had the closeness and the intimacy he’d shared in the two years of dreamland with Jane. He would never let that go. Not without a fight.
    Through Jane’s eyes, Bart met Milo’s gaze. The blackness of his eyes glistened through the darkness. “You’ll kill her, Milo. It will be just like before. Remember what I told you the last time we saw each other? Remember how I told you it would always be for you?”
    Milo paused, hesitated.
    And Bart smiled.
    Suddenly Milo didn’t care about the past. Nor did he care about the curse Bart had placed on him. He would rather Jane die at his hands than live a life as Bart’s slave.
    As Milo pounded into Jane’s warmth again and again—like he’d done for the past two years in their dreamworld—he didn’t kiss her as he always had.
    Instead, this time when he leaned down, he showed his fangs.
    Jane stared up at him with black eyes. “Don’t. Do. This.”
    Bart’s voice held raw rage. And his voice held something that might have made Milo smile had the circumstance not been so urgent. Fear.
    And Jane fought Bart too. Her eyes lightened to a clear blue, and she turned her head and offered her neck to him.
    “Please do whatever you need to before he kills me,” she whispered. “You feel good, perfect, real, but he hurts so much.”
    Milo didn’t know if Bart could kill her with his control or his thoughts. But he wasn’t about to take any chances. He sank his fangs into her throat.
    She shuddered and bucked beneath him. She tightened around him, and the fervor that gripped him in that instant was light-years stronger than anything they’d ever shared in their dreams.
    Milo was caught in a frenzy of passion, and the rest of the world faded to black. Bart was gone; the resort was gone. There was only Milo with Jane in his arms beneath him, with Jane’s body wrapped around him as no other woman ever had. There was only the ancient dance they shared. There was only Milo, lost in her as she was in him.
    He pressed his cock deeper, bringing a sigh from her, leading him to think they’d somehow slipped into one of the many dreams they’d shared. Each thrust went deeper than the last. The sounds of her panting touched his ears, but all he could concentrate on was the engaging dance of her hips as she attempted to keep up with him.
    She grew tighter and wetter with each thrust, grasping him and squeezing him and keeping him within her where she threatened to burn him alive.
    He placed one hand on the bed, keeping her in place and holding himself aloft so he didn’t crush her. With his other hand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and found her breast. Soft but firm, her hard nipple pressed into his palm and sent another wave of need to his dick.
    And oh, the sweet taste of her. Never had he tasted anything so exquisite. Never had he needed to drink so much. He didn’t want to stop until he tasted every last drop. She screamed and shuddered against him, quivering and quaking as she came.
    Her hot, juicy pussy threatened to strangle his dick, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. As he came and filled her completely, he tasted her orgasm in her already-so-sweet-and-perfect blood.

Chapter Six
    Milo rested his forehead against hers and forced in breath after breath.
    What was that joke James had told him? How do you burn five hundred calories in five minutes? Have five orgasms.
    His heart hammered. Had he killed her? He hadn’t wanted to stop. Was Bart right? Could Milo not control his need for blood? All this time, Milo had always thought he could control it, but with one taste of Jane’s blood, he’d been lost. With each swallow, instead of being satisfied, the need for more had grown like a wildfire. The sweet smell of her blood filled the entire room. The wonderful taste of her lingered on his lips and his tongue and down his throat. It mixed with the tangy scent from their sex. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to sink