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he’d give her. His fangs lengthened at the thought of tasting her. This close he could smell the sweetness of her blood. He leaned forward and kissed her. Slowly. He took his time learning the shape of her mouth, the way her tongue moved against his and the way her breath caught when his fangs touched her lip as if she was expecting him to taste her blood there and then.
    How wrong she was. He wasn’t going to bite her straight up no matter how much he wanted to. Expectation was half the fun, the foreplay that he hardly bothered with when fucking backstage, that he missed and craved. He couldn’t remember the last person he’d held this close. A blur of bodies and faces that ended with him alone. His hands skimmed over her ribs, the satiny fabric smooth and cool, even though her skin was fevered.
    He kissed down her neck, her head tilting to allow him better access to her throat. William placed a final kiss over her pulse, savoring the taste of her skin, and leaned back. The color would’ve faded from his eyes, making them white with lust, but he didn’t care and he didn’t bother fighting it. She was used to Vampires.
    “Do you get bit often?” While he was used to the attention because of what he did, he wasn’t used to it because of what he was. The idea that she was extra keen because he had a set of fangs really didn’t sit well. Groupies were one thing; humans who deliberately went after Vampires because they got addicted to the bite were another.
    “No.” Her fingers crept up his chest and undid one shirt button. “Just once, years ago.”
    “Years ago?” What was she, twenty-five? But to humans every year counted. “Did you like it?” Was she thrill seeking?
    She gave a little shrug that jiggled her breasts. “Like anything, I guess it depends on who is doing the biting.” Her eyes were dark as she leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips. “You’re trying to work out why I’m here.”
    “I am.”
    “I’ve always wanted you.”
    He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. God, the number of times he’d heard that before. “Yeah. I thought we covered that at the club.”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “And I thought I’d said that wasn’t enough.”
    He pushed her onto her back on the seat and leaned over her. Her heartbeat picked up, but he couldn’t be sure it was fear, when all he could smell was lust.
    “What do you want from me?” He moved closer as if to kiss or bite depending on his mood. He’d do neither but she didn’t know that.
    Claire didn’t push him away, but she didn’t offer her throat this time either. “I want to see the man behind the makeup.”
    William blinked. Fans usually assumed Absinthe and William were the same. They expected him to strut and perform, even when he wasn’t working. “I am not the same as I am on stage.”
    “I don’t expect you to be.” Her fingers grazed the skin of his belly, making his muscles draw tight.
    “You may not like what you get.” No one else ever had.
    Not even Owen had stuck around after William had accidentally enchanted him. The bitter fighting that had followed hadn’t eased the ache. Time had healed the wounds, but not erased the memory. Even though they got on well now, there had been many acrimonious centuries between. He was a freakish half-breed. Some days he didn’t care. At times like this he did, because he knew no matter how much he might want more than one night, a week, a few months, whatever, he couldn’t have it. The longer he was with someone, the higher the risk he’d end up bending their will to his until they lost their own desires and lived only to serve.
    No one could love him without becoming a broken toy. His mother hadn’t even been able to love him, and among Vampires children were valued above all because they were so hard to conceive.
    It was easier to not care and drift from lover to lover, never staying long enough to do harm. But he wasn’t young anymore. He was into his fifth