Free Embrace of the Damned by Anya Bast Page B

been a harder decision to make, but it had been necessary.
     
    The closet contained far more books than clothing, butshe had managed to find a pair of sweatpants and a sweater to wear. Both were incredibly—comically—too big for her, but it was better than lounging around in his bathrobe all day.
     
    Too bad every single article of his clothing smelled like him—leather and the barest whiff of his cologne. It was downright intoxicating. She had to resist the urge to throw all his clothes on the bed and roll around in them like a cat in nip.
     
    Someone had sent up dinner, consisting of a steak, potatoes, and a salad. She’d eaten everything but the steak—she was a vegetarian—then selected a battered first edition Edith Wharton novel and curled up in bed with it. She’d read until she could barely keep her eyes open and then had surrendered to the inevitable; her body needed sleep.
     
    She wondered if someone like Broder needed it.
     
    Rubbing her cheek against the cool pillow, she tried her best to banish him from her thoughts and endeavored to ignore the fact that the pillow also smelled like him. The scent of him relaxed her, made her feel protected, though she tried to deny it.
     
    After her encounter in the parking garage, she felt pretty secure in this house … although she wasn’t too sure of all those men. She’d locked the door before she’d slipped into bed with the book and lodged a chair under the doorknob just for good measure.
     
    But Broder made her feel safe.
     
    The man was all sorts of contradictions and made her feel all sorts of contradictory things. It was as though her head and her heart had begun warring the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
     
    In fact, she was so distracted dealing with all these new problems that she wasn’t thinking very much about her original ones. And she really needed to get back to those.
     
    Her heart squeezed, thinking of her aunt … or her non-aunt. Jessa wasn’t sure anymore. No matter who Margaret had really been, she’d been the only mother Jessa had ever known. No matter what Jessa found out about her true identity, Margaret had been a good parent … and Jessa missed her so much.
     
    Soon she hoped she would discover just who MargaretHamilton had been, and that bit of information, in turn, would lead Jessa closer to discovering who
she
truly was.
     
    And why she had these strange abilities.
     
    Broder woke with the warmth of another body at his side. He closed his eyes again, trying to make sense of the odd sensation in his chest. It was warm and full, such a contrast to the cold black hole that usually resided there. He’d slept well.
    He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept well.
     
    Pressing a hand to his chest to dispel the warm oddness, he turned over carefully. Jessa probably didn’t even know he’d slipped into the bed with her. The night before he hadn’t been sure he could do it—sleep in the same bed with her this way. It had been a challenge not to give in to temptation and touch her.
     
    Now she lay on her back, one arm thrown up over her head and her dark lashes shadowing the creamy skin of her cheeks. He knew just how creamy that skin truly was and his fingers itched to stroke it again … all the way down her body.
     
    He pulled the quilt down a fraction, then stopped himself.
     
    Clenching his fists, he forced himself to sit up, get away from her. It was hard to be a gentleman when you weren’t one in your darkest heart. He was still a Viking warrior, even after a thousand years. He still felt compelled to take what he wanted. To plunder and pillage.
     
    It was hard not to touch her when he knew he could make her moan, make her like it. The memory of the way he’d made her come the day before made him crazy. No amount of fast motorcycle rides could force away his intense desire for her. No amount of demon slaying could wash away his intense need to touch her, hold her, to make her his.
     
    And, fuck, how