Page 298 of Sigils & Spells

Funny how she couldn’t have cared less. All she wanted was to find Fenris and douse the fire that blazed through her blood. There was something dangerous and edgy about the Fae that made her want him all the more.

She dreamt of him the night before, his hand wrapped in her hair as he took her from behind, his cock filling all of her hollow places, both in her head and in her heart. The release of his fist from her hair only to tease and torment her body into a quivering mass of sensations as she skittered over the edge into bliss.

Goddess but she needed a vibrator. Or a drink. Something. Anything to quell the insane desire to mate with the Fae lord.

Just thinking about him now made her folds grow slick with want.

Get a damn grip. The man hardly knows you’re alive.

The Vampire Ball was in full swing, couples dressed in sparkling finery and glittering jewels paraded along the elaborately decorated dance floor in her sire’s home. In short. It was stuffy. And she’d been dragged downstairs to the event every year for the past decade in the hopes that she would find a prince among the fanged elite.

Not on her life. Or unlife. Or whatever.

Semantics.

Part of her wondered if setting her up with a teenage horn dog was supposed to spur her on to find her own partner. Mate. Whatever. The point was, she didn’t want one. Roark had been trying to push her into marriage, but so far she hadn’t been impressed with his choice in candidates. Jared was a hundred year old vamp trapped in the body of a sixteen year old.

She scoured the room for Fenris, frowning when she didn’t see him. An event like this usually brought out the Alpha wolf Duncan and the Fae lord. Jared appeared in her line of vision and she made out Gibbs’s dark laughter a few feet away.

“Shut up.”

“Be careful, Pigeon. Someone might hear you.”

She opened her mouth to retort but shut it again as Jared stepped in front of her.

Mari pondered how long he’d had the zits that covered his forehead and if he would ever get rid of them. When she’d been turned all of her injuries had healed. It was part of the package. She wanted to feel sorry for the kid but every time he flapped his gums, she felt the urge to hurt him. Badly.

“Good evening, Mari. Roark tells me you’re to be my escort for the night.”

She didn’t particularly like the way he said escort either. Kind of like hooker.

Hells no.

“I’ll dance with you once, but I have plans.”

“What kind of plans?”

If she had to stand here listening to him and his high pitched nasally voice all night she was going to do something drastic.

“I was going to get some air.”

“We can do that.” The twerp beamed up at her and Mari had to struggle not to roll her eyes. Gibbs laughter filled her head and she grit her teeth to keep from reacting. He placed his hand on the small of her back and attempted to guide her to the ballroom. Only he didn’t stop there. His hand kept creeping down and his face leaned into her, his hot breath on the skin of her shoulder. She walked faster, winding her way between couples, hoping by some miracle he’d gotten lost. But no. He was still here, his grasping, clammy hands reaching for her once again.

Ugh.

This was going to be one long ass night. She could see it already.

“A dance then?”

“Fine.”

He slid his arm around her, again sliding down to cop a feel. She grabbed his hands and put them back on her waist.

“Stay.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a presumptive little shit, that’s why. Keep your hands where they belong or I’m going to feed them to one of the werewolves.”

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