Page 6 of Blood Moon Heat

“You’re not the only one with fangs,” I said as he glided me easily around the dance floor.

His gaze searched mine. “Do you think you can hurt me, bride?”

I tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible. Holding that stare turned my blood cold and my bones to liquid. Still, I refused to cower. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

His head tilted to the side. “I very much hope so, Lalka.”

I froze in his arms, but he kept me moving. I wasn’t equipped to spar with this male. I didn’t understand him or what he wanted from me. I’d never wanted to be back in my awful pink bedroom, locked away and safe, more than in this moment. “What does Lalka mean?” I forced myself to ask.

His gaze darkened. “Doll,” he said in a tone that chilled me to the bone.

The song ended, and the dancing stopped as the sunroom roof began to slide back, revealing the blood moon above us. It was huge in the night sky, shining down, bathing us all in its red glow.

I glanced up at Nero, and the coldness had left his face. The stony mask was gone and in its place was the predator, hungry, wild, and about to pounce—to feast.

One by one, the girls were lifted off the ground, their cries of fear and shock spiking terror through me as they were carried from the ballroom.

I shook my head and tried to step back, but it was too late to run now. With a low snarl, Nero snatched me from my feet, lifting me like a rag doll, and tossed me over his shoulder.

My gaze caught my mother’s fearful one, and I choked down my scream as he carried me out into the night.

Two

Mina

Nero strode through the darkness, heading deeper into the garden, then through a narrow opening in the hedgerow.

I squirmed, biting back another scream as he applied pressure against the backs of my thighs and slid me down the front of his body before placing me on my feet.

His violet eyes shone down at me as he backed me up against the hedge. “You know what happens now, don’t you, Mina?”

His wide chest was a wall, blocking everything out, everything but him. I swallowed, and the sound was loud in the cocoon he’d ensconced me in. “Yes.”

“I can hear the rush of your blood throbbing through your veins.”

I wasn’t surprised. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest—but I heard nothing from him. I could only assume his blood moved through the arrogant male’s veins from the sheer force of his will.

His hand moved fast, one moment down at his side, the next, holding my jaw in a firm grip. He tilted my head to the side, his gaze sliding to my throat.

I held my breath as he dipped lower, closing the small space between us, and pressed his nose to the spot between my shoulder and throat. The air slid shakily from between my lips as he breathed deep, dragging his nose along my skin and up to my jaw. “I’ve never wanted to taste anything as much as you,” he said, voice hoarse. “It’s as if the fates put the gods’ own ambrosia in your veins just for me.”

His touch was cold, but his breath was warm. The juxtaposition had goose bumps lifting all over my skin. There was no way to stop the way I trembled, even as a slow building warmth, a yearning—a familiar ache that I’d experienced before in his presence—steadily grew between my thighs.

He scraped a fang across my skin, and I jumped, a cry of alarm escaping before I could hold it back.

He made a low, animalistic sound, and pressed his cool cheek against mine, his lips brushing my ear. “Are you a witch, little Mina?”

“I—I’m no witch.”

“Then what is this spell you’ve cast over me?” There was another scrape of his fang, and I gasped. “Your warmth, your scent…” he purred. “It’s maddening, enthralling.”

Someone screamed in the distance, followed by a low moan somewhere else. Oh gods, what was happening to the others? What was happening to me? I was filled with terror, but that desperate ache pulsing through my body continued to intensify.

“I-is that why you kept coming back? Is that why you came to my room even when you knew it hurt me?” I had to know.

He breathed deeply, scenting me again. “When I stood in your pretty pink room while you huddled in your bed, shaking with fear and desperate need, I felt something—when I haven’t felt anything in a very long time.”

His voice was unmoved, as cold as always.

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