Free Vampire Dragon by Annette Blair Page B

standing and shouting, “Here! I’m over here.” Slow on the uptake much? “Yes, a decade is ten years. You don’t have to rub it in.”
    His head came up fast, his eyes wide and eager. “Rub? What would you like me to rub?”
    She huffed, horny and achy and frustrated as hell. “Stick to the point!”
    Darkwyn did what she wished but not what she wanted. He didn’t explain his point about being millenniums older but raised his hips so they met at exactly the perfect place, and if she’d stopped sniping she might have a big surprise in store. She ground her hips against his generous offer. “You have a pretty impressive point there.”
    He fingered her hair, brought it to his lips, romantic and sweet, and getting her hotter. “Ah, my impressive point,” he said, sliding her hair against his cheek, then tickling her chin with it. “My impressive point is our other big problem.”
    “I don’t think so. It’s more than hard enough, quite thick, incredibly long—”
    “And incredibly deformed.”
    “You jest.”
    “I do not know how to jest. I will take lessons if I must, but—”
    “Not ‘joust,’ ‘jest.’ ”
    “That is what I said. One problem at a time, please. You are decades older than I am, you think . Wrong. I am centuries older than you.”
    “Be serious,” she said. “I was born the day man first walked on the moon.”
    Darkwyn dropped her hair and furrowed his brows, making him look that much more yummy. “An earth man walked on its moon?”
    “What, you don’t watch the news? Never mind. You hadn’t been born yet, but surely in American history, you learned—”
    “American history!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Vivica said I should not skip that, but I did, to get here faster.”
    Bronte rolled off her frustrating boy toy and sat with her back against the wall. “You talk in circles.”
    “Well, this earth of yours is a convoluted place.”
    “Hah!” she said, pulling her favorite throw over herself, holding it up to her neck. “Tell me about it.”
    He stroked the bottom of her left foot.
    “I’m not ticklish.”
    “You are not a ‘tickle-me-toy’?”
    She tilted her head. “Well, I am, actually, but you sound as though you just came from kindergarten.”
    “I learned that on television. I never watched kindergarten.”
    She crossed her ankles and rested them in his delightful lap. “You’re the strangest man.”
    “And the most desirable?”
    “Certainly the most confusing. I’m worried about our age difference,” she said. “You should be, too.”
    He reached for her mask. “Take it off so I can see what an old crone you are.”
    She slapped his hand. “Stop that. Everyone who works here wears a mask. It’s the rule. I never, ever , take mine off.” Except when she slept, or had a minute alone in her room, behind closed doors. “Neither does Zachary. What our employees do on their time is up to them, but when they get here, they’re masked.”
    “You are a bossy old woman.”
    “I will be your boss if you take the job as Master Vampire, which encompasses the jobs of bouncer and maître d’.”
    “I might be too old to be a vampire.”
    Bronte ran her fingers back and forth against the stubble on his godlike face. “Real vampires are ancient.”
    “Shall we discuss our ages, our jobs, and even vampires, after sex?” he suggested. “Your elders walked on the moon, mine discovered fire. It is, as humans say, a wash. You will never be as old as I am.”
    “Now you sound like Zachary.”
    “He is a child. You are a woman. One who is young enough to have sex with me without breaking a hip?”
    “I’m not that old.”
    “Too old to appreciate a man in your bed?”
    “You really don’t care that I’m old enough to be your—”
    “ Lover . You are the perfect age to be my lover. Whereas, I am older than dirt and have a trick dick.”
    “Is it magick?” she asked, getting hot all over again. “Sounds tantalizing.”
    “It is magick, as