Page 71 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
Mateo’s skin is a few shades darker than Colt’s and Grayson’s, more Italian coloring than German or English.
“I haven’t decided.”
That’s reassuring.
He takes another step.
My back hits the wall and my head bumps against a painting.
I’m cornered.
Mateo stops when he’s a foot away. I urge steel into my blood and glare up at him, refusing to wither into the wall and beg for mercy.
His lips quirk higher. “Do you hate me, Demi?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Are you sure? You’re soaking wet, I could smell your desire from across the room. You want me.”
Traitorous body.
“No, I don’t.”
He closes the gap between us, presses his elbows against the painting, and cages me in. I tip my head up, avoiding looking directly in his eyes which means I’m staring at his lips.
They’re tempting, but I’m stronger than he thinks.
“I don’t like being lied to, Demetria.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Who says I’m lying, Mateo?”
He moves so fast I can hardly speak before he’s pierced my throat with his fangs. Euphoria floods my veins, and everything turns technicolor. I moan and grip his shirt, holding on to him like a lifeline.
His tongue is hot against my neck as he licks the wound. When he pulls his head back, I marvel at the blood rimming his lips. My blood. He smiles darkly, and I lift my gaze, entirely forgetting to keep my wits about me.
The lids of his eyes are lowered, and he stares at me with blatant hunger. For my blood or sex— possibly both? He lifts his arm, uses his fangs to bite open his wrist, then offers the bleeding appendage to me.
“No,” I say.
He shakes his head and presses his wrist against my lips. “Just a taste, Demi.”
What could it hurt?
I can’t say I’m not curious. I’ve heard what vampire blood can make you feel. The rush of supernatural strength that comes with ingesting vampire blood is temporary but rumored to be an experience like no other.
Mateo places his hand on the back of my head and presses my lips to his wrist, as if knowing what I’ve decided even though I didn’t voice the decision. I open my mouth and suck on his arm, then I realize I’m probably giving him a hickey, so I lick at the wounds instead.
I should be mortified.
Disgusted.
I’m not. He tastes like pennies with a hint of sugar, it’s not gross. I furrow my brow as I lock my eyes with his, rolling his flavor around my mouth and taking more than I should, given that I’m human.
Mateo watches me with an almost dumbstruck look on his face. He didn’t expect me to comply. Had he wanted me to fight? Did he want to force me?
My core brushes against his hardened length.
This mother fucker.
