The Vampire Narcise by Colleen Gleason Page A

roughly, driven to devour him, to take him all in—taste, scent, touch—singe her tongue to explore those small wounds, the curve of his shoulder and neck, the taste of his skin, salty and hot.
    Her bloody hand curved around his cock and guided it to her, as she lifted on her toes. She raised a leg, settling it around his hips, and he groaned in desperation when he was unable to help steady her, to settle her in the right place, and she felt the tension rippling through his body. But Narcise had an arm around his neck, her ankle curved behind him, opening her legs so that he could fit into her. She was swollen and ready and with one measured thrust, she impaled herself against him.
    Cale gave a sharp cry, echoed by her own gasp at the intense, brilliant pleasure. Oh my, oh my …was all she could think as every bit of awareness faded into a ball of heat that expanded as she moved against him, and he thrust smoothly, forcefully against her.
    She wrapped her other hand around his neck, too, fairlyhanging there, and planted her feet against the wall at his hips so she could leverage herself within the pounding rhythm.
    The ball of heat and pleasure grew and swelled until it filled her center, rolling into a great undulating explosion of pleasure that had her crying out, and then sobbing with relief and satiation as he shuddered his release against her.
    She felt the tremors through her body, inside and against her, for a long time…and after a while, she realized she was sliding down off him, her knees weak and her limbs loose and soft.
    The wall was cool and smooth under her fingers, and she heard the faint clinking of the chains, the soft rasping breaths of his pleasure and the stone floor beneath her toes.
    After a long moment, she opened her eyes, stepping away from his warmth with a shameful little stagger. Her fingers trembled, but there was a warmth in her belly that had spread throughout and made her want to smile. And perhaps even to cry.
    “Narcise,” he said after she’d stepped back and gathered up her tunic and breeches, then turned to pick up the dagger and to return it to the table: focusing on those mundane tasks instead of the tender emotions that seemed to be threatening.
    There was an odd note in his voice and she looked over to see—
    “How did you do that?” she said. He was standing there, one of the manacles hanging free. A chill raced over her.
    She didn’t need him to answer, for she realized that his free wrist was the one he’d clasped inside the manacle. And that he must have connected it loosely or even not at all…so that he could—
    “You could have freed yourself at any time,” she said, needing to speak the words out loud in order for them to penetrate. As she watched, he reached over and unlocked thewrist manacle she’d connected. It wasn’t difficult: there was a small little pin that held it closed and could be adjusted by the size of the wrist. Her world had begun to tilt.
    “You can trust me, Narcise,” he said.
    Something unsteady bumped in her heart and a little coil of fear started in her belly. Her Mark twinged sharply. Now that he was free, now that she’d aroused his lust and shared some of herself with him, he’d take and take —
    Narcise shook her head to force away the rising panic, and realized she still had the dagger in her hand, behind her back, and she gripped the hilt comfortingly. The blade was cool against her bare skin, but she shifted so that Cale couldn’t see it. She wouldn’t allow him to touch her. He’d promised.
    By now, to her faint surprise, he’d pulled on his breeches, and then scooped up his shirt. “But of course I want to stay, Narcise,” he said, his voice very even and very low, his eyes penetrating. It was as if he could see the change in her emotion: from ease to terror. “However, I’m not going to impose my presence on you any longer, for the temptation to forget my vow is much too great. Particularly after… that .” The