Page 62 of The Vampire's Seduction

When she tried to take it back, he whirled his chair around to block her while he typed. As she fumed, wondering if she could tip his chair over, which seemed drastic, he turned around and shoved the tablet in her face. The screen displayed a menu.

“Order something,” he commanded in a harsh tone.

She stepped to the side and glared at him. His body was rigid, his lips set in an angry scowl.

“Why are you mad? It’s just food,” she asked.

When he shot up to his feet, she backed away, her throat jumping to her throat in instinctive fear.

“Because you’re my mate. You shouldn’t have to go hungry under my care!” he said with red ringing his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or shout right back at him. As if realizing his loss of control, he heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” she whispered. “I’m a grown adult. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not sure you can,” he muttered and pointed to the screen. “Will you please order some food?”

Olivia decided this wasn’t a fight worth having and perused the tablet. “I’ll have the shrimp alfredo pasta.”

Marek relayed the order to Tristan. “Tell them it’s a priority. I want it asap.”

“Yes,” replied Tristan.

Marek set the tablet on the table and stalked to the other side of the conference room, his movements stiff with tangible frustration. Olivia bit the inside of her cheeks. It was the first time anyone had ever gotten angry at her for something as simple as missing a meal. Like all things Marek did, it was sweet in a strange way.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said to break the silence.

He frowned. “What kind of vampire allows his mate to go hungry?” The question sounded rhetorical. “Is this common? You not eating? Or should I be aware of some medical condition?”

“No, I’m perfectly healthy,” she said with a matching scowl. “I just don’t see the point of eating until I must. Is this a weird mating kink? Anything else I should know about being mates?”

“It’s not a weird kink,” he said and sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Mates feel the urge to protect and care and love each other. It hurts me to see you suffer, especially when it’s something as simple and basic as food.”

Again, that stabbing throb in her chest. Everything he did was because of a magical bond. What would’ve happened if they weren’t soulmates? Would he have left her alone in the parking lot?

His steps back to her side were graceful, predatory. When his hands cupped her face, she stayed rooted to the spot. “Is it so hard to believe I want to provide for you?”

His proximity and the tenderness in his gaze muddled her brain. “No? I don’t know. I’m not used to people worrying about me.”

When he brushed his lips against hers, featherlight, her breath hitched. His tone was rough as he said, “Get used to it because I’m not going anywhere.”

He was so close, his heat searing her through their clothes. The pent-up lust of the last few days swamped her, drowning her in its force and intensity. Her mouth watered for more of him, her body desperate for his touch.

Before she could hesitate, she leaned forward and kissed him, plastering her body against his unyielding frame like she’d dreamed of. There had been no intricate plan or careful forethought, and if there had been, his explosive reaction obliterated it to ashes. His lips scalded hers as they devoured each other. His hands grasped her buttocks and squeezed while she buried her fingers in his locks, angling her head for deeper access.

A deep, carnal sound emitted from his throat. Her core squeezed with frustrated hunger. Did unfulfilled desire haunt him like it did her?

Her breaths shuddered out in shallow gasps. She would need to breathe soon, but she could’ve kissed him forever.

He turned them until the table bumped against her hips. His hands skimmed up her sides, barely brushing her puckered nipples, as he inserted his thigh between her legs. Lost to bombarding sensations, Olivia gyrated her hips onto him, seeking a small amount of satisfaction from the friction.

“I was wrong,” he said, his breathing harsh. Olivia realized she was beginning to like his animalistic, feral red eyes.

“About what?” She ran her hands down the strong column of his throat, along his wide shoulders, and up again.

“It’s not the room. It’s you.” He shifted his leg against her weeping core, eliciting a moan from her. Two heartbeats to process his meaning.

“Or it’s you.” Olivia leaned back, supporting herself with her hands on the table, and pushed against him. Staring at him beneath her lashes, she complained, “You’re the one driving me crazy.”

A flash of pure male satisfaction. “So says the seductress.”

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