Page 42 of The Biting Bargain

"I wouldn't brag about that if I were you," he says. "I wouldn’t even shift if it wasn’t for you. This is all your fault."

"My fault?" I gasp.

"Who lied at the screening at Club Sanguine? Who withheld critical information about their witchcraft? Who kissed me? Who destroyed my counter curse?"

He inches closer with each question, pinning with his gaze, enveloping me like a cloud of inky blackness. I press my back into the seat, wrenching my neck to hold his gaze, coffee black with that ring of that feral amber shimmer. He is so close now that I have difficulty breathing in. As if the center of gravity has shifted and is now sitting right here, right in that slowly dwindling distance between us.

"I don't remember forcing you to do anything..." My voice is reduced to a hoarse whisper. My anger, flaming a moment ago, sizzles out, swamped by other sensations that make no sense at all. I’m caught in his gaze. Petrified.

And so turned on.

"If you only knew," he murmurs, eyes foggy.

I don't know if he's coming forward to shut me up, or if I simply cannot withstand that magnetic pull anymore, but the next moment his mouth is on mine and I breathe him in, and he lets loose that low rumble from the depths of his chest as his tongue sweeps over mine…

My brain shuts down.

He grabs my neck, fisting my hair. I slide deeper into the seat and he bends my neck, kissing me deeper and with a ferocity that is making me dizzy. This is a mistake. A monstrous mistake. But I can't help it, plunging into this kiss like a skydiver into a hurricane. His fangs nip into my skin and I lose control of my arms looping around his neck, my legs wrapping around his hips like I'm an octopus and he's my treasure I want to snatch.

I gasp in surprise as the contact breaks.

Vincent regards me, inches from my face, breathing heavily. He eyes me with a mix of shock, surprise, and wonder. As if something happened that was not supposed to happen.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, his voice rough and pressed.

"For kissing me?" I can barely answer coherently, the part of my brain responsible for speech is low on energy. He shakes his head imperceptibly.

"You were never in any danger," he says. "I could beat Stellan with both hands tied behind my back and a blindfold on."

I frown, a remnant of my anger rekindling.

"Still, it was wrong," he adds. "It wasn't part of our deal. I'm sorry."

I blink. This is the last thing I expected right now. Vincent Renard is not the apology type. But I'm too wound up and turned on and out of my mind to reply, because he's inching closer again, eyes foggy and all amber now.

"I'm not sure that's enough," I groan. Something in his eyes shifts just before he recaptures my mouth.

"Let me make it up to you, little dove."

ChapterNineteen

Vincent

I can't claimto have lost control much in the nearly two-hundred and fifty years of my existence. Or ever, come to think of it.

I’m Mission Control personified. If you took a look inside my mind, you'd see countless flickering monitors piling up the wall, vanishing in the darkness above. They are swarming with news, exploding buildings, bridges collapsing and rockets starting. There are stock market quotes, indexes, databanks, spinning numbers and diagrams, ticking away with plans and forecasts that keep my world and all its inhabitants in its well-ordered orbit.

Never have I made a single move without first consulting with my ever-busy mind palace. Never have I made any decision without all possibilities having been extrapolated in all their microscopic detail.

Except when Polly is involved, apparently.

None of this is planned. None of this is supposed to happen. Not like that. Not here. Not now. But while we’re at it, I might as well savor her. Not that I have any choice anymore. Kissing her has eliminated any choice I thought I’d had.

She whimpers as I press her into the seat, trapping her with my body as she grinds against my not-so-subtle erection tenting my pants. I can’t get enough of her mouth, her taste, her smell. It’s overwhelming. Intoxicating. Mind-destroying. And it would be so easy, wouldn’t it? I could just tear her $500 panties to shreds and fuck her right here on the car seat. And as things are developing, I’m about to do just that.

Time to hit the brakes.

The wolf, who is ultimately to blame for the entire mess, rumbles in protest, but with the rest of my dwindling self-control, I tear myself away from her seductive mouth. She gasps in surprise as I pluck her wrists from my ribcage and place them on the headrest above her head.

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