Free Crimson Psyche by Lynda Hilburn Page A

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    He angled his head, kissed his way down my exposed throat and gently pushed the tips of his fangs through my skin. His soft hair flowed across my breasts and we both moaned.
    Having him thrust inside me while sucking blood from my neck was the most extraordinary feeling, and wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through my body. The sense of being separate dissolved and we became one being, completely merged, soul to soul, each experiencing the other’s arousal and release. Vampire sex with Devereux was an off-the-chart thrill.
    I screamed as my body spasmed in bliss, my muscles contracting around his erection as he came, too. After a few seconds more he lifted his mouth from my vein, slid his tongue over the tiny holes to stop the bleeding and brought his lips back to mine.
    Tasting my own blood on his lips had become exciting — intimate. I’d grown accustomed to the flavor, and even wondered occasionally what it would be like to sample his on purpose. Of course, I wouldn’t do that. The elders had warned me about drinking Devereux’s blood. They said that because I had tasted it during a protection ritual, now they couldn’t just cast a spell on me to protect my brain. So I certainly didn’t want to complicate my life any more than it already was. And even though Devereux had assured me that the process of becoming a vampire was much more intricate than portrayed in books or movies, I didn’t want to take any chances.
    How could I possibly exist without margaritas or chocolate?
    Sensing him staring at me, I opened my eyes.
    He raised his head, slid his tongue over his upper lip and smiled down at me. “I apologize for being so impatient, for leaving out the delightful foreplay , as you call it, but I simply could not restrain myself.”
    “Well, I guess I’ll forgive you this time.” I pretended to be serious. “Although I wouldn’t want you to get into the habit of ignoring the appetizer in favor of the entrée.” Devereux definitely gave good appetizer.
    “Not to throw cold water on this tender moment,” I said, “but you’re getting a little heavy there, Fabio. Do you think you could scoot that delicious body of yours over a little so I can breathe? Some of us don’t have the choice of whether to suck in air or not, you know.” Calling him Fabio was a little joke between us. He didn’t really resemble the aging cover model but he understood what I meant by the reference.
    In the blink of an eye, he was lying next to me. “How careless of me. I would not want to suffocate the love of my life.”
    “The love of your life?” I turned to him. “That’s an odd thing for a vampire to say, isn’t it, since you’re not really alive in the normal sense of the word?”
    He frowned. “Are you still troubled by the state of my existence? Is that why you will not accept your role as my mate and take your place in my world?”
    Here we go again. Shit. I pressed my lips together.
    “I do not wish to upset you with these discussions,” he continued, “but we must resolve this issue.”
    “Why?” I sat up. “Why is it even an issue? What aren’t you telling me?”
    He shifted his body to sit in front of me. “It is not a matter of that. The truth is that I am still attempting to understand your importance to me. The urge to bond with you is great, but the explanations elude me.”
    “ Bond with me? What the hell does that mean? You haven’t mentioned that before.”
    “No, you are correct. I have not expressed it in those exact words, but I have spoken of our deep connection and our destiny.”
    “Wait.” I wagged my finger at him. “Are you talking about the portrait of me — one you claim to have painted eight centuries ago? That’s what you’re basing all this on?”
    Okay, I do believe he had a psychic vision of me eight hundred years ago and he painted a portrait where I wore the blue silk blouse I’ve owned less than a year, but I’m making a point here...
    “My claim?” His