After a few moments of their hearts both racing to beat out of their chests, Griffin asked, “Is it always going to be like this?”
“I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever mated with someone.”
“First and last,” he said, mock sternly.
She chuckled. “Definitely. Also, we should work on your dirty talking skills.”
He leaned back so that he could look at her and furrowed his brow. “Seriously? You had that orgasm in about five point ten seconds. What’s wrong with my skills?”
Chuckling again, she kissed the tip of his nose. “Nothing at all, sweetie. I’m just saying, that was more like professions of love than actual dirty talk.”
He rolled his hips. He could feel himself hardening again already. “Sounds like we need more practice.”
Her smile was radiant. “That’s an excellent idea.”
THE END
Thank you for reading the Taming the Dragon series! If you love vampires, flip the page to check out the first chapter of Resist, a vampire Blood Courtesans romance…
RESIST
My sister has disappeared into the shadowy vampire world of Blood Courtesans, where blood and sex are money, and humans are sold to the highest bidder.
I’m Anya, and I hate vampires. They killed my aunt. And now they’ve stolen my sister. I can’t let her die, so I head to Chicago to track her down.
Before I can find her, I’m assaulted by two human thugs, and of all the luck, a vampire comes to my rescue. Cam is sexy as sin with an accent that melts panties, and he hasn’t eaten in far too long. And now he's offering to help track down my sister… no strings attached.
Yeah, right.
Welcome to the Blood Courtesans Series, where vampires are real, rich, powerful—and hungry. Blood is bought and sold like fine wine, and the best blood goes to the highest bidder.
It's not supposed to be about love ... until it is.
If you haven't checked out the rest of the Blood Courtesan series, you should, starting with REBORN, Myra's story, which is available on most ebook retailers.
Chapter 1
“I don’t want to go with you!”
I kicked out with one booted foot while the other slipped on a pile of slush coating the sidewalk, but the grunt of pain told me I’d made contact despite my precarious stance.
“Doesn’t matter to us what you want. It’s about what we want.”
I backed up until I was pressed against the cool brick wall, facing my adversaries. Two of them. Significantly bigger than me. I had no idea if they were vampires or human, but that hardly mattered. Three weeks’ worth of kickboxing lessons were not going to save me, given the odds.
I should’ve started earlier.
But I’d lived in denial these past few months, convinced my sister would return on her own, without my having to rescue her.
“I’m not a blood courtesan,” I told them, in case they were vampires under the delusion I might be interested in their version of fun and games. Apparently fucking young human women while drinking their blood—and sipping a glass of wine—was what it took to get a vamp’s rocks off.
Not exactly my thing.
“Not yet,” the uglier of the two said.
“I’m not up on the latest and greatest in vampire culture, but I could’ve sworn blood courtesans had to do it of their own free will.”
“You’re right,” the one with a pockmarked face said with a sardonic chuckle. “You aren’t up on vampire culture. They don’t give a shit whether you’re willing or not. Only that you put out. Both blood and pussy.”
This was what put a sparkle of excitement and anticipation in my sister’s eyes the day she’d packed a bunch of silk and lace undies I’d never known she owned?
“It’s a whole new world,” she’d told me. “A gorgeous, glamorous one. I can’t get tied down to some country bumpkin farmer who will want me to raise a bunch of kids—both the two-legged kind and goats. I’d be miserable. This is the easiest, fastest way out of this life. And if I hate it, I’ll come back. My understanding is the contracts are only binding until one or both parties decides to end the relationship. In the meantime, I’ll call, text, check in with you through Facebook. Don’t worry, Anya. Everything will be great, you’ll see.”
Eight months and almost no contact later, I was convinced my sister was stuck in a life she hadn’t bargained for … or worse.
My assailants moved forward, crowding me. I darted a glance from side to side, trying to judge the best means of escape: the even darker dead end of the alley in which we all stood or the crowded street that seemed a million miles away. And to get to the busy intersection, I’d have to go through my two would-be attackers. Actually, given how busy the street was—it was St. Patrick’s Day weekend, after all—it shocked the hell out of me that no one had wandered down this alley to interrupt us yet.
I considered screaming for help just as my gaze fell onto a door almost directly across from me, carved into the brick wall of the building making up the north side of this narrow passageway. If memory served from my earlier walk through the area, it was a bar, an Irish pub. Which meant it would be crammed with people drinking green beer and eating corned beef and cabbage.
Perfect. All I had to do was get there.
Taking a deep breath, I launched myself right, as if I meant to run toward the end of the alley, and as my unwanted guests instinctively mimicked my action, I shunted left, bolting around them and rushing toward the door.
Which was locked.
“No, no, no,” I shouted as I beat on
