Free His Captive Mortal by Renee Rose

licking into her mouth.
    He caught himself before moaning her name, his desire mounting at the taste of her, the sensuous pleasure of contact. He reached for the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up, but she jerked away, yanking it back down.
    “Stop,” she said, breathless. “I...I’m not ready for that.”
    He rolled his eyes, not bothering to remind her he’d already seen her magnificent tits the day before. Still, she’d been right to stop him—what the hell had he been attempting? Did he think tumbling her would help alleviate his mounting lust? It would only make it worse, and then he would be blood-starved and blue-balled, which would equal one extremely crabby vampire. And they had real work to do here.
    He picked her up by the waist and carried her to a chair at the kitchen table, plunking her down and shoving the box of books at her. “Get busy learning magic, little fairy.”
    She tipped the box and peered inside. Pulling a suede flogger out of the box, she looked at it critically.
    “Ah yes, that one is for me. To use on you, of course.”
    She lifted it to throw at him, but seemed to reconsider, perhaps frightened he’d use it on her. Tossing the flogger back in the box, she changed the subject. “Which book should I start with?”
    He shrugged. “You’re the fairy Call it to you.”
    Her jaw went slack. “How, exactly, do I do that?”
    He didn’t answer, but returned her gaze steadily, daring her to try it. He didn’t know how fairies or witches did what they did, but he’d spent enough time around Anka to know it was what she would have done.
    She turned slowly back to the box and peered inside. A glow came around one of the books.
    “There! Do you see it?” he asked, pointing.
    She whipped her head around to look at him, confusion on her face. She looked back to the box and stared at it. The book remained lit up from his view. He supposed as an immortal, he had the capability of seeing things ordinary humans did not. Like the bubble of protection she’d used when he first saw her.
    After a long moment, she picked out the glowing one and held it up. “This one?” she asked doubtfully.
    He smiled so widely his cheeks stretched, a surge of—was it pride?— running through him. “Brilliant girl. Clever little fairy,” he praised, practically gushing with enthusiasm. “I knew you’d be a quick study. You read the book, I’ll tidy up around here.” When her eyes widened, he added sternly, “Just this once. I shall expect you to keep a neater house going forward.”
    She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to the book, opening it with a look of wonder on her lovely face.
    He arranged her clutter into neat piles and began to make dinner. Despite his edict that she cook, he actually enjoyed preparing food. Some vampires chose not to eat at all, preferring to take all their sustenance from blood. He loved food, the years he’d spent in France providing him with a discerning palate.
    He’d met Anka in Paris, where she owned a bordello. The raven-haired madame had seemed as immortal as he, her witchcraft giving her the appearance of eternal youth. She had flawless olive skin, almond-shaped black eyes with thick, curling lashes.
    Born to a Romani mother, she’d had a French father, so while she’d inherited the gift of sight and healing from her mother, the tribe had found her lacking the Romani spirit and had declared her Gadjo at age fourteen. Sent away, she’d found her way to Paris to make her living first as a prostitute and later as the proprietor of one of the most expensive brothels in the city.
    Thinking of her now did not make him angry as it usually did. He almost pitied her. Alone, with no one to help her, she’d had to use every bit of magic, every manipulation she knew to get ahead. Using him had been out of habit. The fact that she cursed him showed she had truly cared. Else she never would’ve minded his finally walking away. He opened the refrigerator and took