Pulled back.” She turned with two plates in her hands and looked him up and down. He wore jeans and an olive green t-shirt, snug across his muscled shoulders and chest.

He looked gorgeous, even down to his bare feet. She blinked a couple of times, then said, “Guess which one is yours.” She’d cut all three sandwiches in half, placed a half on her plate, and stacked the rest on his.

He reached out his hands and relieved her of the heavier plate, planted his butt on the closest stool, and started to eat.

His eyes kept rolling back in his head. “You’re a genius.” He repeated the compliment more than once.

Vela brought him his beer shaking her head. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in years, which reminded her not just of what he’d been through in the past decade but that he hadn’t had a woman in his life in a long time. Unless a man liked to cook, his fridge usually looked like Merl’s and take-out was the order of the day.

By the time he finished, he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I wolfed that down. It was just so good. But my God you can cook.” She started to laugh and couldn’t seem to stop.

“What’s so funny?” Between chuckles, she somehow managed to say, “I grilled you a couple of sandwiches. That’s all.” He smiled as well. “What can I say. I usually order pizza.”

“That’s what I thought. Your pal, Merl, does the same.” He glanced around at the plates.

“What do you mean? There’s bread and a couple of tomatoes—”

“Oh, no. This stuff I folded from my house.” He met her gaze, one elbow on the counter, the kitchen lights soft on his features. “Thank you. I haven’t had such a nice, home-cooked meal in a long time.” She met his gaze, his smoky gray eyes, and in a slow wave, what had begun at the workout center moved through her, catching up her breath then letting it fall.

His pupils dilated and his lips parted. His scent, almost absent while he ate, now flooded the space between them.

She could feel his thoughts like a caress on her skin. Her gaze drifted to his throat and her earlier desire returned. She trembled.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken the vein?” his deep voice had grown deeper, a sound that reached inside her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs.

Five years. “Too long.” She felt paralyzed, though. She wanted to do this with him, but she was frightened of feeling too much for a man whose occupation terrified her.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said softly, but his entire body had tensed up.

Her gaze shifted to his face, his eyes, the tight line of his lips. He swiveled away from her, facing the counter. “I understand if you don’t want to do this. I get it.” But his scent worked over every inch of her body so that something very low in her abdomen began to vibrate strangely, from front to back, a soft humming sensation she could almost hear. Need crawled through her, need for him, for sex, and for his blood. She put her hand at the small of her back and rubbed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I feel achy right here.” She rubbed the muscles near her tail bone.

He whipped toward her and planted his hand in the same location. “Let me do that for you.” She caught sight of the ridges along his forehead. He thought she was hurting.

Maybe more than even his beautiful scent, or how built he was, that small expression of concern did her in.

His hand low on her back, rubbing her, also had a sudden effect as her spine arched and her body bloomed like never before.

“Oh, that feels so good.” She ached across her pelvis, deep into her well.

He massaged her. “Is that better?”

“Better?” She didn’t understand the question. It felt wonderful. “Oh, my God.

What is that? Don’t stop. I feel— Oh.” And just like that, as though it had been building for hours, an intense orgasm ripped through her so that she called out a long, lusty cry, holding onto the counter for support as he kept pressing his hand rhythmically into her lower back.

When the sensation passed, she grew very still, staring up at the ceiling, her body flooded with the most beautiful sensation. That same vibration lingered, teasing her, so that she knew it would take very little to do that all over again.

“You can stop now,” she murmured.

He drew his hand back frowning at her. “What’s wrong? What the hell just happened? Are you all right? Jesus, Vela.

Tell me you’re all right.” She remained seated for a long, long moment, trying to figure out exactly how to say to Samuel, who she’d met only a few hours ago, that just by rubbing her back, he’d brought her to an amazing climax.

She turned toward him and slipped off the stool to stand close to him, but all she could do was blink.

“Vela, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just ... that is, you … I mean—” She couldn’t get the words out.

He thumbed her lips and slid his arm around her waist. “I think I get it because your fragrance smells just a little different, deeper, richer. “You just came, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how. This has never happened before, not like that.” She drew back, but only far enough to take both his hands and start guiding him in the direction of the guest suite. “Come with me.”

“Vela, are you sure?”

“I don’t know what this is between us, but yeah, we’re doing this. All I know is that I need you inside me and I want your blood and I want both now.”

Chapter Five

Samuel’s biceps flexed and his lower jaw trembled. His mouth flooded with saliva at the thought of taking Vela’s blood. Would it taste like the soft floral fragrance that enveloped him, sweetened by her recent orgasm; woman and flowers and sex? He needed to know.

Whatever rational ability he possessed dropped deep into the ocean of all this sensation. He was hard for her and ready to do whatever she needed him to do and he could feel her need like fire against his skin.

He wanted his hands on her, his mouth, his cock pushing into her.

When he reached the bedroom, he shoved the door shut with his foot just in case Merl returned early.

“You ready for me, warrior?” Her eyelids were low, her breathing ragged.

She reached up and released the clip, letting her mane of wild hair flow over her shoulders.

She touched her blouse, folding it away to reveal a sheer bra. Her nipples had formed hard beads and he wanted a taste.

He crossed to her, sliding one arm around her back, then dipping low to suck her left breast through the fabric. She moaned and shed her scent. He played with her damp wing-locks, running his fingers over several of them until she writhed against him as he sucked.

Her hands dipped into his hair, pulling it from the leather straps he used to tie them back. She dove her fingers into the mass and tugged at the back of his neck. Her breast flexed as he sucked.

“Samuel, I’m so close again. My God, what you do to me.” He drew back and said, “I want to try something with you.”

“Anything.” He groaned. “You’ll need to be completely undressed.” She nodded and with a mere thought, removed the rest of her clothes. He grew very still as his gaze drifted down her body, resting on her full breasts, her navel, her bare lower lips.

For a moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t remember what he’d had in mind.

He nodded a couple of times, more to clear his head than anything else. Then he remembered and hissed softly.

“Now lie back on the bed.” She stretched out and with her body prone she became a banquet for him. He leaned over her, off to the side of her legs, because for what he had in mind he needed both his hands free. He started to rub her lower abdomen, back and forth with one hand. “How does this feel?” Her lips parted. “Oh,” came out in a long, soft moan, then, “Good.” He massaged lightly back and forth over her pelvis.

“Are you feeling something similar, like at the island?”

“Yes, like a vibration, a humming.” He massaged deeper.

Her body arched. “Oh, that’s heaven.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Like waves of pleasure, wherever your hand moves.”

“Pull your knees up.” She obeyed and with his free hand he stroked the inside of her leg, pushing toward her groin. Her right thigh rested against his body. At the same time, he continued to rub her abdomen, watching her stomach muscles flex and relax over and over, as her hips begin to rock.

He moved his right hand further down her thigh, then rippled the back of his fingers over her lower lips. She whimpered. He did this several times, watching her face and her abdomen. She was very wet.

Using two fingers, he slid inside. She arched her back and cried out. Slowly, he moved his fingers in and out. He wanted to bring her like this, to watch her come.

He kept massaging her abdomen on the outside as he thrust his fingers inside.

Her hips pushed back, her neck arched, and she cried out. He drove his fingers faster. Her cries sharpened and fell from her lips one after the other until he could feel her internal muscles pulsing with ecstasy as she came.

She was so beautiful, her moans, her mouth open, her hands gripping the comforter, her hips pushing against his hand, reaching for that last bit of pleasure.

When at last she settled down, breathing hard, she turned to look at him.

“That was wonderful. Amazing. Your touch is almost magical.” The words were hushed, then she sighed deeply.

He rose up, easing back. He continued to rub the inside of her thigh, the opposite leg now slack.

“Your turn,” she said, a sated smile on her lips. “But I think you should lose the clothes.” He moved to stand between her legs, still spread for him so that his view was exactly what he wanted. He loved a woman’s body, that her sex was a secret place to seek, find, and explore.

As he grabbed the bottom of his t- shirt, she lifted up on her elbows to watch, so he stripped slowly. He was built, a happy effect of his warrior job and of working out. He gave her the show she wanted, removing his shirt slowly and at the same time flexing various muscles and watching her gaze rove his shoulders, his pecs, his biceps.