“Looking at an illustration?” Curiosity tugged that question from his lips.

“Christ Almighty!” Lilian whirled to face him, her caramel-coloured eyes enormous.

Her face darkened, shock becoming anger as she glared at him.

And then her cheeks pinkened and her gaze edged downwards to the book she clutched in both hands.

She quickly shoved it back on the shelf.

“You can read it. You can read all of them. I don’t care.” He gestured to the thousands of books that filled the room.

She sidestepped in front of the book she had been looking at and he frowned at her, his curiosity rising again.

“What were you reading?” He tried to see past her to the book, but she moved whenever he did, blocking his view.

When he stalked towards her, she grabbed the book and scurried away.

“Nothing,” she spat, her eyes wild.

He studied her. Flustered air. Flushed cheeks. The fact she had been so startled by his presence. The way she had canted her head as if looking at an image.

He smiled slowly and advanced on her.

She backed away, keeping the distance between them even, and then her back met one of the shelves. She glared at him when he narrowed the gap between them down to nothing and moved the book behind her back.

Night leaned towards her, biting back a groan as her scent invaded his lungs—his every pore—making his soul sing and his fangs itch. He resisted the urge to drop his lips to the smooth column of her throat and focused on his mission, reaching around her. She gasped as his chest brushed hers, their cheeks close to making contact, and he took hold of the book.

He expected her to surrender it. She didn’t. She clung to it, revealing she was stronger than he had thought, and he had to wrestle it out of her grip.

“Night—” She pressed her other hand to his chest and froze as he looked at her.

Gods, he had been so focused on his mission to get the book from Lilian that he hadn’t realised how close he was to her.

His pulse accelerated as he gazed down at her, his lips mere inches from hers, and her eyes darkened with the desire he could sense in her. He needed to move back. He needed to leave. Only he couldn’t. He stood there, looming over her, his body pressed close to hers and her breath caressing his lips, goading him into taking them.

She swallowed, and the part of him that wanted to lower his gaze to her neck and watch her pulse ticking there wasn’t strong enough to win against the part of him that needed to kiss her. Tasting her lips was more important than tasting her blood, and gods, that was a revelation.

It shook him.

He wasn’t sure he had ever hungered for a kiss more than he had hungered for blood, but he was aching for it, felt sure he would die if he didn’t claim her lips soon. He waited for her to run, to pull away or shove him.

To stop him.

She remained where she was though, her hand branding his chest through his shirt, searing him with her touch, and her eyes locked with his, her dilated pupils beckoning him as fiercely as her lips did as they parted.

He needed to leave.

He needed to stay.

Night warred with himself and when he still couldn’t move, he silently begged her to make the decision for him, willing her to show him what she wanted.

Her fingertips pressed into his chest, her hand trembling against it to betray the nerves he could already sense in her, and her head tilted up, bringing her lips closer to his.

Night swooped on them.

Groaned in time with her as he claimed her mouth.

Sure she would push him away now and steal this heaven from him. And gods, it was heaven. She tasted as sweet as she smelled as he stroked the seam of her lips with his tongue, fighting to hold himself back, afraid of pushing her too far or hurting her.