Free Tegan's Return (The Ultimate Power Series #2) by L.H. Cosway Page B

blood.”
     I bite my lower lip out of nervousness from his proximity. “So, that's a good thing right?” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off his mouth.
     Urgently, he grabs onto my hips, pulling me under him. Then I watch as his sharp, white fangs extend out from under his lips. Oh God, are these going to be my last few moments on earth? I suppose dying at the hands of a beautiful man isn't the worst way to go. I say a silent prayer in my head, but this is surely no time to begin reverting back to religion.
     “I am beginning to think that maybe I should stop being such a gentleman with you,” he whispers. “There was a time when I would simply take what I wanted. Over the years the world has become a less outwardly violent place, and so my habits have adjusted to that change. Perhaps it was all a waste of my time.”
     His fingers reach down and begin unbuttoning my coat, and I'm in too much shock to do anything but simply lie there. His hand slips inside and around my waist, pulling me into him. Then he dips his head to the very centre of my throat. I think he's about to bite me and I close my eyes in fear. But he doesn't bite, he breathes in and then traces his fangs over my skin, scraping pleasurably into my nerve endings.
     His voice is like smooth, sweet honey when he says, “So you do like me then, at least a little bit.”
     “What makes you say that?” I ask, my voice shaky. Even though I think he should know how much I like him after that night we spent back in my old apartment before I'd gone away.
     “I can smell it,” he breathes. Damn, I'd forgotten about that one. Vampires can smell feelings, so there's no chance of me getting out of this easily.
     “What does it smell like?”
     “It's both a feeling and a smell I get, when a human…” he pauses a second before continuing, “wants me. Heat and roses.”
     “So it's not unpleasant then…”
     “No, not unpleasant at all,” says Ethan, pushing my shirt up and running his hand from my hip, along my ribs, before resting at the strap of my bra.
     “It's cold,” I say in protest.
     “Yes it is, isn't it,” Ethan replies, fixing my top back down, buttoning my coat and pulling me up to stand beside him on the small boat. He helps me back onto the board walk and we start walking again, this time away from the river and down a populated street. He's holding my hand now, and although I'm absolutely terrified of his potential to kill me with those lethal fangs of his, it's a pleasant sensation just to be walking down the street, holding a man's hand. I haven't done it in such a long time. The contradiction in my feelings towards him makes me feel unstable.
     We pass by a pub and I peer inside at the people socialising merrily over a pint or a glass of wine. I could definitely do with a drink to calm my nerves right about now. Ethan pulls me along, and it's hard to keep up with him. I'm sure he's going slower than he normally would to allow for my pathetic 'human' speed, but still, my legs hurt walking so fast.
     “If you cannot go any faster I shall have to resort to carrying you,” he says with an evil grin. I wonder if he's serious. I probably would let him if it weren't for what the people passing us by would think. I'm lazy like that. Soon we get away from the populated shopping streets and find ourselves on a quiet residential road.
     It's full to the brim with expensive town houses that are reserved solely for the upper middle classes. People who work in high end jobs. In my case I'd have to win the lottery to ever be able to afford one of these houses. Sometimes I like to play a game when I'm walking by people's homes. I create stories in my head about the families who live in them, like soap opera story lines.
     After another five minutes we've almost come to the end of the street, and Ethan stops in front of a tall, dark brick town house. All of the lights are off on the inside, nobody home I presume, and there are