Page 1 of Craving Her Vampire

Chapter One

Micah

“You are ruining torture for me,” I snarl, turning from the man hanging in chains to glare at Ryker and Saphira. “Would you stop chattering?”

“I don’t chatter,” Ryker says dryly, lounging in an old wooden chair like it’s a throne.

“I do chatter,” Saphira says brightly, and my eye twitches.

“Well, stop,” I demand. I love Saphira. I have known her since she was a toddler and raised her for years. Her brothers, Bishop and Laken, will be annoyed when they find out about her secret life.

“I thought you liked to talk during torture?” Ryker asks with a tilt of his head.

“I don’t like the topic of conversation.” I face the half-dead coyote I’ve been working on. He deserves everything I have dished out.

“You don’t want to hear how pissed Bishop and Laken are going to be when they know you have taken Saphira under yourwing. Teaching her your torturous ways,” Ryker points out like an asshole.

“Fuck off,” I throw over my shoulder.

“We don’t have to tell them,” Saphira says hopefully.

“You think you can hide it forever?” Ryker asks.

“Maybe,” she mumbles.

“Right,” Ryker drawls.

“This is what I mean,” I hiss, turning back to them. “I am the most powerful fucking vampire in the world—I am not scared of two dragons. Can I please enjoy cutting off the rapist coyote's dick?” He has raped several humans, and I would like to bring justice to the women.

“I am not stopping you,” Ryker says, waving his hand at the whimpering man. “At least he’s not screaming—I hate that.”

“Because I influenced him before you sauntered in,” I sneer.

“Did you do it so I wouldn’t have to hear him cry?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Why would that be the reason?” I sigh.

“I hate it.”

“Fuck.”

“Can I ask a question?” Saphira raises her hand and continues without a word from me. “I have watched you tons of times—”

“Tons of times?” Ryker interrupts.

“You always torture while shirtless and shoeless.” She doesn’t even glance at Ryker.

“Is that a question?” I narrow my eyes.

“Yeah?” she scrunches her nose.

“I don’t like blood on my clothes,” I say simply.

“Why?” she asks.

“You love blood,” Ryker points out.

“Is this fucking therapy? I like what I like. Can you both shut the fuck up?” I swing my arms and grimace when his blood flies, landing on my chest.

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