Page 22 of Bewitched By a Vampire

He had told her not to touch him.

But it was all she could think about.

She wanted to know his kiss.

Chapter 6

Night rubbed his eyes and kicked at the sheets, pushing them down his bare body. He draped his arm over his face and sighed out his breath. Still sleep wouldn’t come. His blood was running too hot, stoked by the fact that every time he closed his eyes, he saw that bastard with his hand on Lilian.

Felt her fear all over again.

And then relived how fierce she had been when he had taken her to her room.

And how close he had come to kissing her.

He groaned as his shaft stiffened at just the memory of her breath on his lips, her hands on his chest, and wanted to growl at his traitorous body. It seemed to fail to remember what had happened next. The little mortal had been luring him under her spell, attempting to turn him into putty in her hands so she could manipulate him into helping her escape his brother.

It had all been a lie.

So there was no way in hell he was going to fantasise about her.

He let his arm flop back onto the mattress beside him so they were spread out at his sides, reaching for the edges of the king-size bed, and glared at the black canopy.

Damn her.

He tugged the black sheet into his fists and growled as he clenched his teeth. Damn her for trying to use him like that, toying with him in a way that would have ended with her death had she not been the property of his brother. He had never tolerated females playing with him. He never would.

Which is why he no longer wanted her.

The spike of anger that caused that thought was quick to fade, and in the aftermath of it, he reached out with his senses, focusing them on her room to check on her.

Night grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and dragged it over his face and yelled into it, frustration getting the better of him. He had been repeating this same cycle since he had made everyone leave and had decided to go to his room. Memories of what had happened turned to anger which turned into a decision that he didn’t desire her anymore, and that swiftly became a need to check on her as fear she would leave and he would never see her again got the better of him.

Weak.

He was weak.

And Lilian was the cause of it.

He couldn’t go a handful of minutes without checking on her. He couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t care what she did or that he might never see her again. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. On the rare occasions a female had given him the brush off in the past, he had walked away and thought nothing of it or her again.

Why couldn’t he do that with Lilian?

Why did the thought of moving from this spot, of walking away and losing his ability to sense her, come close to breaking him?

Night threw the pillow away from him on a growl, his fangs piercing his gums as he clenched his jaw. He was stronger than this. A little mortal female wasn’t going to twist him into some needy, weak male. He rubbed his eyes, digging the heels of his palms into them, and snarled. If he could just get some damned sleep. He needed a moment’s peace, some time away from thoughts of Lilian and replays of how close he had come to kissing her.

He let his left hand fall away from his face and turned his head in that direction. He glared at the clock on the mahogany bedside table.

It was just gone midday.

He should have been fast asleep by now. This wasn’t like him either. It wasn’t like him to get this worked up about anything, not in a long time. He had spent centuries honing his mind and strengthening his will. He should have been asleep hours ago, with the breaking of the dawn. Instead, he was growing increasingly tired and foggy, and increasingly frustrated.

Night rolled out of bed and paced his room, moving between the row of three mahogany wardrobes that lined one of the midnight-blue walls to the other side of the enormous bedroom. He glared at himself in the mirror above the dressing table whenever he approached that side, uncaring of the fact he was naked. Something was wrong with him.

It gnawed at him, like some vile beast nibbling away at his sanity. Something was very wrong. He was tired, so damned tired, and he wanted to sleep. So why couldn’t he? He wasn’t the kind of man who could go for a day or two without some solid sleep. Not anymore. Maybe when he had been younger. But age and experience had taught him the value of good sleep. It helped him keep his wits sharp. It helped him survive.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes again and bent his head, a low growl pealing from his lips.

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