Guyyys my little paranormal romance novel is coming out soon. But I still can’t tell you when, so here’s something to nibble on until then.
Emotion and desire had stolen Misha’s voice, and for a long moment all she could do was stare at Chuck, breathing hard, tracing the hard planes of his face and the exquisitely sculpted line of his lips with her gaze.
He had no idea what he was. He’d been turned, his Broken sire had been rightly executed, and Branch Zero had scooped him up and done a spectacular job of convincing him he was nothing more than a useless, troublesome stray.
“Chuck, listen to me.” He frowned, his unblinking eyes never leaving hers, and she balled her fists in his shirt. “You are a vampire. I know it sucks in so many ways, and you don’t have to like it, but it’s what you are now. You’re the ultimate apex predator. You are fast and strong and deadly, but you are also beautiful and powerful and immortal. Your kind practically run half the world, and they use little more than their magic to do so, and the only reason they don’t run it all is because they’re too lazy to bother.” Chuck’s eyes had gone wide, and Misha tightened her grip on his shirt. “You think you have nothing because that’s what Branch Zero wanted you to think. The truth is, you could have almost anything you want, all you need is time and training in how to use the power you have now. But you have more than that too.” As he searched her face, Misha unfurled her fists and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You’re brave. And kind. And good.”
Chuck’s eyes blazed with some barely checked emotion, and his embrace turned to stone. “I’m not,” he whispered.
In his distress, his fangs had lengthened. Misha reached up to stroke one of the sharp tips, and he hissed, eyes going sharp with arousal. “You are,” she said gently. “Brave and kind and good. Also, your hands are extremely talented, a fact which I’ll admit I’ve thought about a lot these past twenty-four hours, and—”
The growl that escaped Chuck went straight through her, stopped her breath in her throat. His hands tightened on her. “Have you now.”
Misha’s stomach flipped. She knew he’d never hurt her, but that didn’t stop the surge of adrenaline as Chuck locked onto her with predatory focus. She managed to nod her head and make a vague affirmative noise, throat gone too dry for words. He drew her closer, wedging his torso between her knees, until her bunched-up skirt stopped him. With a distracted snarl he dropped both hands to her hips and went to push the skirts out of the way, his palms skimming her bare thighs. Sweet Mother, Misha thought, how could such a simple touch make her heart race even faster?
Then he stopped. He bowed his head, touching his forehead to hers, muscles in his neck and shoulders thrumming with tension. He breathed in, seeming to drink down her scent. “Misha?”
She let her fingers drift over those thick shoulders, marveling at the coiled strength in them. “Hmm?”
He pulled back. “Do you want this?”