A Hunger Like No Other

He studied her, his gaze drinking her in. Her skin was perfect alabaster covered only by her strange pantalettes, the black silk that was like a V on her body. The front was transparent jet lace and teased against the blond curls between her legs. He remembered his two fleeting tastes of her skin in the howling rain and unnatural lightning, and his cock pulsed, the head growing slick with anticipation. Other men would find her exquisite. The vampires would. Human males would kill for her.

Her trembling body was too small, but her eyes…wide and blue like the daytime sky she would never witness.

'M-my name is Emmaline.'

'Emmaline,' he growled, slowly reaching forward one claw to slice away the silk.

2

She'd been a fool to agree to this, Emma decided when the remains of her underwear fluttered to her ankles. Why should she trust him? She shouldn't, but what choice did she have? She had to call Annika, her foster mother. She would be frantic when the pilot reported Emma had never shown up.

But was that really the reason she'd agreed to this? She feared it wasn't so selfless a reason. Throughout her life, men had asked things of her—things her hidden vampire nature made impossible. Not this male. He knew what she was, and he wasn't asking the impossible, he was demanding…

A shower.

And yet…

He held out his hand. Not aggressively or impatiently, but accompanied by a slow perusal of her wholly naked body with eyes that were intense but now warm and golden. He gave a sharp groan that she knew was involuntary. As if he found her beautiful.

His size was still terrifying, his leg sickening, but with a deep breath, and more courage than she'd conjured in her entire life, she slipped her hand into his.

Just when she fully grasped that she was completely naked in a shower with a six-and-a-half-foot crazed male of indeterminate species, he pulled her under the water with him, turning her back to him.

He took her left hand and placed it against the marble. The other he placed against the glass. Her mind was racing. What would he do to her? She couldn't be more unprepared for a situation like this. A sexual situation. He could do anything he wanted. She couldn't stop him.

She drew her head back in surprise when, all business, he began running soap down her back, over her backside, his palms big on her. She was embarrassed that this stranger saw her like this, but she was also intrigued by his body. She strove not to peek at his huge erection as he bent and moved, but it was…eye-catching. She tried not to notice that the hair on his arms, legs, and chest was golden-tipped, or that his skin, but for that of his leg, was tan.

He bent down to wash her legs front and back, and scrubbed the grass and mud from her knees. When he rubbed toward her upper thighs, she shoved her legs together. He gave a frustrated growl, then stood to draw her back against his chest, until she could feel him prodding her. He started the same leisurely exploration of her front, one arm bent by her side, his hand clasping her shoulder.

Suddenly his callused palm cupped her breast. She would fight, or scream—

'Your skin's so damn soft,' he murmured in her ear. 'Soft as the silk you wore.'

She shivered. One compliment, and Emma—who'd never suspected she was easy —relaxed somewhat. When he ran his thumb slowly over her nipple and back, she sucked in a breath, glad he couldn't see her eyelids briefly slide closed. How could anything feel that good?

'Put your foot there.' He motioned to the narrow bench along the shower's back wall.

And spread her thighs? 'Um, I don't—'

He lifted her knee and placed it there himself. When she began to move it, he snapped, 'Doona dare. Now, lean your head back against me.'

Then both his hands were back on her breasts, now rubbing with friction since the soap had washed away. She bit her lip as her nipples hardened almost painfully. She should be terrified. Was she so desperate for touch— any touch—that she would submit to this?

His fingers inched lower. 'Keep your legs open to me.'

She'd just been about to shove them together again. She'd never been touched there. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

She'd never even held a man's hand.

Swallowing nervously, she watched as his hand trailed down to her sex. 'B-but you said—'

'That I would no' fuck you. Trust me, you'll know when I'm about to.'

She gasped at the first touch, involuntarily jerking in his capturing arms, staggered by the intensity of feeling. Two fingers caressed her sensitive flesh, stroking and teasing her, and it was all the more pleasurable because he was…gentle. Slow and gentle. When he felt her wetness, he rumbled foreign words and brushed his mouth over her neck as if pleased with her.

He tried to dip his finger inside her, but her body clenched against the unfamiliar touch.

'Tight as a fist,' he rasped. 'You have to relax.'

She wondered if she should tell him that all the relaxing in the world wasn't changing that.

He reached for her from the back. When he began working his middle finger into her sex from behind, she gasped and rocked to her toes as if to get away. But his other hand bent her forward slightly, then trailed down to stroke her from the front. She heard panting, and was startled to realize it was her own.

This stranger was petting her body—inside her body—and she was aroused.

Did the air charge with electricity? For her? Please let it be for me…

He shook more and more as he touched her. She sensed that he barely held onto his control… She should be wary, afraid. But his fingers were so slow on her, the one inside her hot. So much unfamiliar pleasure. The urge to moan arose.

She had never moaned with pleasure before. Never in her life had she been moved to…

Her claws curled like they never had, and as she panted, she imagined sinking them into his backside as he thrust into her. What was happening to her?

'Now, there's a good lass,' he growled in her ear, just before he turned her and lifted her in his arms. 'Put your legs around my waist.'

Her eyes had been heavy-lidded with lust, but now they widened in panic again. 'Y-you said you wouldn't.'

'Changed my mind when I felt you wet and needing.' She did want him—as she was supposed to.

He frowned, uncomprehending when she struggled. Even in his weakened state, quelling her fight took little more effort than holding a wildcat.

He pressed her against the wall, pinning her there, and set his mouth to sucking her throbbing little nipples. He closed his eyes with pleasure, groaning as his tongue swirled around them. When he opened his eyes again, he found hers squeezed shut, her balled fists resting on his shoulders.

He set her on her feet again and stroked between her legs. She'd gone tight again. If he tried to fuck her like this, he'd tear her—but he didn't care. For all he'd done just to get this far, only to find a vampire, he wouldn't be stopped now. 'Relax,' he bit out. Just the opposite happened—she began that useless shaking again.

Need to be inside her. Haze. She would make him wait longer for the mindlessness he craved? Torturing me just as her kindred did. He bellowed with rage, his hands shooting out on each side of her head to crush the marble behind her.

Her eyes went stark once more. Why couldn't she have been of his kind? If she had, she would have been clawing him to fill her, begging. She would have fed him into her body and sighed with relief when he rocked into her. The mental image of this creature doing that made him groan in misery at his loss. He wanted her willing. But he'd take what fate had given.