Free Forsaking (Vampire Assassin League Book 26) by Jackie Ivie

But, if she wasn’t his mate, he’d never be in this position.
    “You ready to deal now?”
    Bram eased the stricture he’d placed on his upper body. Watched as she glanced at his belly and then back at him. She might be noticing how his muscles moved and bunched and clenched. He instantly dismissed that idea before something worse happened. Her gaze returned to the approximate area of his nose. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.
    “Like what?”
    “I get a question answered.”
    “Oh. That. Sorry. Go ahead.”
    “What brought you out here?”
    “To Nevada? Dobbin Creek? This tunnel?”
    “Any. All.”
    “I’m an artist.”
    “Artist. I see.” He didn’t see anything, but he was careful not to phrase it as a question.
    “My specialty is painting. Mostly pictures. Scenes. Portraits.”
    “Sounds...interesting.”
    “I’m really good, too. Unfortunately, that isn’t enough.”
    “For what?”
Damn it!
He’d asked a second question. She didn’t seem to notice.
    “I can’t paint what I want to.”
    “Oh.”
    “I really want to paint fantasy scenes. You know. Fairies. Werewolves. And yes, vampires. All kinds of cool creatures. I’m really good at it...but you’ve heard of starving artists, right?”
    Her voice had a wistful tint. His heart gave a twinge. He didn’t reply. She didn’t seem to expect one.
    “Well. Trust me. It’s true. The market is overstocked with artists. And now that there are computer art apps and laser printers, well. It’s hardly worth the effort. Few people will pay for an original. So. I do whatever jobs are paying. Or find another occupation. Lately, that has been painting signs. Wait. I can’t even say that. I’m not painting them. I’m refurbishing. I’m not fond of it. It’s like doing paint-by-number. But, that’s why I’m here. I was working on the sign above the Number Eight saloon. My scaffolding fell. I landed in the saloon, grabbed the boot rail to save myself...and
voila!
I found your trap door. And then I found you, the guy claiming to be a vampire.”
    “No claim to it. I am a vampire.”
    “Yeah. Right. Do you have any whiskey? Maybe if I get a bit soused, I’ll believe you.”
    Bram thought a moment. “I might.”
    “I was kidding, okay?”
    “I wasn’t.”
    “You say you’re a vampire? Okay then. Why are you up? I mean...” She lifted her wrist and checked her watch. “Will you look at that? It’s nearly six. In the morning. Doesn’t that mean you should be in that coffin back there?” She gestured to the other room.
    “Not necessarily.”
    “I thought vampires had to rest during the day. So they could roam around and feed all night.”
    “We’re underground,” he replied.
    “So?”
    “It’s not light that’s a problem. It’s sunlight.”
    “You mean, you’ll burn if the sunlight gets you?”
    “It’s a bit worse.”
    “So that’s true? I can kill a vampire with sunlight?”
    “At first. I’m young still. Immunity comes with time.”
    “Is that like vampire sunblock?”
    She laughed. It was a luscious sound. His lower body jumped in response. Bram held onto the chair arms and shoved his ass back into the chair seat. The wooden structure vibrated with the effort, making a thumping noise as the chair legs hopped on rug-strewn floor. It was some time before he could reply. She’d probably watched him the entire time. He had to guess at it, however, since he didn’t dare look toward her again.
    “You okay?” she asked.
    “Uh...”
    Okay was a catch-all phrase. Meant orderly. All right. Normal. It might be lingering at the periphery of his existence but it wasn’t anywhere near. This felt like he was besieged from within, forced to stifle urges and needs unlike any he’d faced before. He was all kinds of stimulated and aroused and needy. He needed to be with her. Meshed. Enwrapped...
    Sheathed.
    Whoa. Down boy
.
    He’d been told of mating. He hadn’t been told the level of physical sensation he’d