Free Inferno by Bianca D'Arc Page B

had centuries to hone his commanding ways and at a mere thirty years old, were or not, Megan was no match for the power of his will.

    She put her hand in his and was quickly whisked off to the dance floor. The revelers parted almost magically, making way for the important man in their midst and staring at Megan with assessing eyes that made her uncomfortable. She never liked being the center of attention.

    All that was forgotten as Heath led her into the whirl of an energetic yet genteel waltz. He was a master not only of men, but of the dance, leading her with subtle movements that positioned her exactly where he wanted her to go. All she had to do was follow and allow herself to be caught up in the swirl of skirts, the swish of silk and the loveliness of the music reverberating gently over the walls of the large hall.

    She lost track of time and space, mesmerized by the dance and the compelling man. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she felt the pressure of his magic against her natural were resistance. He couldn’t influence her, but the dance was dreamy enough, the fact that he was trying to use his power on her didn’t alarm her as it should.

    The waltz music drew to a crescendo, and Heath dipped her low over his bent knee. He moved closer. She was in no position to move, much less evade him. Her body was positioned in such a way that she had absolutely no leverage and no hope of escaping the kiss she thought he meant to deliver.

    Such a public display would be embarrassing, but she would live through it. She braced herself, and when he dipped even lower she realized he was aiming not for her lips, but for her jugular.

    She could see the gleam of his fangs as they descended. He struck fast, the fear only momentary before his bite seduced her senses. Vampire mojo was not to be discounted at close range, she learned, even for a were wolf. The bite propelled her into a hazy state of mind where she didn’t fight, only succumbed to the Master vampire.

    Shocked whispers erupted all around them on the dance floor as Heath abruptly let her go with a final lick and raised her to her feet. She was dizzy. His big hand steadied her as he guided her from the dance floor, toward their small group.

    Megan was in a daze. A kind of shocking sexual hunger had been aroused in her body but left unfulfilled. She’d never been bitten by a vampire before and was unprepared for the way it made her feel. Being unsteady on her feet was not something she was used to. Weres in general had excellent balance. Her balance, of course, was shot to hell by Heath’s disturbing influence.

    He brought her directly to a seething Dante. The man was so angry he practically bristled. She saw the fury in his eyes even before he opened his mouth to speak.

    Heath preempted him. “Come with me, d’Angleterre. We have much to discuss.” Heath turned away abruptly, his hand still firmly grasping hers as he led them toward the door.
    He stopped only once, to tell his daughter he was leaving and that she should continue to enjoy herself at the party.

    Thwarted in his fury, Dante followed. Megan caught a glimpse of his heavy stride as he came down the steps behind her and their host. She was ushered into a long black limousine and guided to the seat behind the driver, facing Heath and Dante. Both men looked angry, but Dante won the award for sheer ferocity.

    The car began to move and Dante turned on the man who was, for all intents and purposes, Master of this region, though his daughter carried the actual title.

    “You should not have done that.” Each word was bitten out between Dante’s clenched teeth.

    Heath sank back against the plush cushions. “Oddly enough, I agree with you. She is poisoned.”

    “What?” Megan had no idea what Heath was talking about and was wary of the anger she saw in their expressions.

    “Damn.” Dante’s anger continued but was redirected.

    “Why don’t you seem surprised?” Heath asked him