Wicked Dreams [The Wicked] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) by Copper Cole Page B

punched down, throbbing, aching to taste her blood. The urge to strike so overwhelming he pulled his mouth away. Less than a second’s worth of work, and his teeth could be buried into her femoral artery. He ran his tongue across his fangs, his throat on fire from the thirst she evoked in him. His jaw dropped open as the mouthwatering sound of her heartbeat filled his ears.
    No one would ever know if he tasted her blood. The Generals wouldn’t have a clue if Eli just took a tiny taste. As he started to move farther away from her, resisting the urge to break the one rule punishable by death, biting a human, she thrust her hips against his fingers still buried deep inside of her. His razor-sharp fangs were exposed, and before he could move far enough away, her skin met the tip of his fang. The skin broke. A small drop of blood landed on his lip.
     
    * * * *
     
    Genevieve watched as his tongue slowly lapped away the drop of her blood on his lip. She couldn’t stop the moan that crept out of her at the sight. She didn’t know this man, but she didn’t care. Something about his hands on her, any part of him being inside of her, felt so utterly right to her.
    She wanted to know everything about the man staring up at her from between her legs. She did something she never thought she’d do. She reached out with her mind to his. For the last two years, Genevieve had been able to see into the minds of others. She hated it, the constant screaming in her head. The only way to drown it out was going to the club where the music pounded over the incessant voices.
    No one ever knew she had this ability, so when his eyes widened and he backed away from her so quickly he became a blur, she didn’t know what to do. She felt as though she had literally been shoved out of his head. But not before she heard several things that left her gaping.
    Vampire.
    Sweetest blood.
    Seer.
    Nothing about any of those things made sense to her. She looked to the strange man, so tall and muscular.
    “Tell me your name,” she said around a huge yawn.
    A sudden bout of exhaustion swept over her, beyond the normal blissful sleepiness of post-orgasmic bliss. She didn’t understand how she could feel this way, like she’d been medicated or something.
    “You don’t need to know my name, Seer, only that I will watch over you.”
    Then he vanished. She wondered for a second why he called her Seer, but the exhaustion felt so heavy she let go and slipped into the deepest sleep she’d ever had.
     
    * * * *
     
    For the next few weeks she’d go dancing to drown out the voices in her mind. She’d find herself in a daze, always dancing with a strange man she never felt uncomfortable with. Her head would start to pound, the headaches coming nearly every day now. Somehow, she’d always end up back in her room with no knowledge of how she got there. She had dreams about the man who called her Seer. The dreams were so real, she’d wake up with a gasp, her sheets twisted around her body and her pussy dripping with want.
    Genevieve took a deep breath. There was a hint of something foreign in the air. She looked around the room and noticed nothing out of place. Her head flopped back on the pillow as she fisted her hands in her hair, trying to figure out why she felt so lost and empty when awake, yet so full and satisfied in her dreams. The only answer was she’d rather stay in dreamland forever with her dark angel than live the lonely existence she currently found herself in.
    Her days were predictable. She would go to a dead-end job she hated, go home, eat food she no longer desired, shower, dress to kill, and go to the club so the music would fade the voices away. Never a moment out of her mundane days did she find herself not thinking of the dark angel who haunted her dreams. She could feel him all around her. She could smell the scent of leather she always associated with him. She was so lost in the music, she jumped when a pair of large hands gripped her