Free Blood Struck by Michelle Fox Page A

scream, too overcome to let air pass through my vocal cords. Pleasure unlike any I had felt before convulsed through me. Kristos leaned forward to kiss me on the neck, my legs pressing into my belly and chest until I could barely breath. I flinched as I felt the sting of his fangs piercing my skin, but that was quickly replaced by the added pleasure of feeling his cock spasming inside me in rhythm with his feeding.
    The way he held me was almost like being hog-tied. My body was wrapped in his, pinned by his weight which also immobilized my legs. All I had were my hands, which sometimes gripped the sheets or ran through the soft hair on his head. If the stitches bothered me, I didn’t notice any longer. In the midst of my orgasm, I had held onto the meat of his shoulders, shuddering against him.
    When he was done, he seized my mouth in another kiss and I tasted my salt and blood on his lips. With tentative laps of my tongue, I cleaned the traces of our lovemaking from his mouth.
    Kristos rolled off me with a sigh of contentment.
    Seeking reassurance, I asked, “Did I pass inspection?”
    He pulled me close, snuggling me against his shoulder. “Yes, you were fine.”
    “Fine?” I half sat up to look at him. Fine didn’t seem like an enthusiastic endorsement.
    He laughed. “You were the best virgin I ever had for dinner.”
    The absurdity of his response was not reassuring. “That’s it, just a good meal?”
    He went quiet for a moment. “More than a meal, Myra.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “There’s something about you, who you are, the way you taste that makes me want more.” He fell silent again. “Tell me about your parents.”
    I gave him a confused look. “Why?”
    “It might explain why I’m so besotted with you. You don’t taste like the other girls.”
    A coy smile danced on my lips. He’d said besotted and that made me happy. Very happy. I liked the idea of being able to besot a man like Kristos. “My mom, her name is Elena, is Irish-American with the blue eyes and red hair. My dad, well, all I know is his name. He didn’t stick around. His name was Devon Desanto.”
    Kristos froze. “You’re sure about that?”
    I frowned. “Yes, why? Do you know him?” The idea was preposterous, but something I’d said had caused Kristos to react strongly.
    “Seriously, Myra, are you certain that’s his name?” His eyes caught mine in a fierce gaze that took my breath away.
    Mute, I nodded. Whatever it was, my gut instinct told me it was bad. Kristos had been happy when I’d confessed to being a virgin. That happy face was gone, now replaced by a serious one that carried an edge of worry.
    He pushed me away and sat up, his brow furrowed. “We’ve met.” He hit the bed with a fist. “That’s who you reminded me of. You taste like him. Vampires call him The Maker.”
    I shook my head and moved to sit next to him, pulling the sheet with me to cover my nakedness. “Seriously? You knew my dad? He’s The Maker? Of what?” The questions tumbled out in a rush, reflecting the chaos in my mind.
    Kristos crossed his arms. “I wasn’t the target that night at the restaurant.”
    My heart began to sink. “What are you saying?”
    His eyes locked with mine again. “It was you they wanted.”
    “Me?” My voice was a squeak now. I clutched the sheet tight in my hands. “Who would want me dead?”
    “Your father’s enemies.”
    I put a hand to my forehead to try and stop the panic swirling inside. “Kristos, please make sense. I don’t understand.”
    “I thought there was something about your blood that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The attack...well, I never suspected they would want you. You’re human.”
    “What does my father’s name have to do with this?” I’d never even met the guy. He’d missed every milestone in my life and now he was causing people to shoot at me? It all seemed so random.
    “Your father is an Old One. One of the first vampires that ever