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down the nerves that made her stomach tremble as if it was a bag filled with butterflies. She shook her head. You are no better than a groupie, Claire .
    Who was she kidding, she was groupie. And she was living the dream. She grinned and opened her eyes. A vase of white long-stem roses sat primly on the piano. Nature tailored to suit. They were dead without realizing it yet, but she could feel their loss of life with every breath.
    Claire reached out and ran her hand over the flowers. Their fragile velvet petals caressed her palm. Some of the magic she’d absorbed earlier, from the concert and sex, slipped from her fingers and into the roses. To her it was as natural as breathing, part of the circuit that power flowed through her and back into the Earth. The magic would give them another night of life as if they were in the ground. After that, they’d wilt and fade like any other dead plant. She much preferred flowers in the garden.
    The flowers shimmered as if taking a gasp of air, their thanks rippled through her. Smiling, she stripped off her skirt, leaving it just outside the bedroom door. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she walked past the bed and went into the bathroom. The door was open, so she didn’t wait for an invitation; instead she pressed down any remaining doubts and pushed open the glass shower door.
    “Thought you’d changed your mind.” His voice washed over her, smooth as silk.
    “Admiring…” Her gaze traveled over his body. Water rolled easily over him, following the contours of muscle beneath that caramel skin that begged to be licked. Her eyes trailed down the line of black hair that started at his navel. His cock was hard, jutting forward, waiting for attention. “The room.”
    Absinthe was every part the grunge god he portrayed onstage. But washed clean, no music, no makeup, no magic, she saw the man. So disconnected, having a stranger in his room passed for intimacy. Fingers unraveled the fibers of her heart. She extended a tendril of power, intending only comfort. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed it away as if he could see her concern.
    How well could he sense magic? She hesitated, but he raised an eyebrow in invitation. He was a temptation she couldn’t resist, so she stepped into the shower, closed the glass door and let the damp heat envelope her. Now wasn’t the time to be working out why a Vampire had any kind of magic.
    Not while said Vampire was wet and naked and hard.
    Oh yeah, every inch a god.
    “Why don’t you have a closer look?” It was a dare, not an order and there was no magic behind his words. Curious, she’d half expected him to wrap her up in an enchantment again…maybe he didn’t think he needed to now.
    Claire licked her lower lip slowly, as if considering his suggestion. Her fingers trailed up his thigh and then along his shaft. He waited and watched, his eyes green again instead of white. He was in control of his lust. She didn’t know if his fangs were down or not, but if she was on her knees, he wouldn’t be able to bite her anyway.
    She dropped to the floor of the shower, the tiles reassuringly cold and firm beneath her knees. Water cascaded down her back, between the cheeks of her bottom and down her inner thighs. Teasing, that’s where she wanted his hands—not magic this time. She wanted skin on skin. The real thing. If she had to get the show started, so be it.
    Her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft and she inhaled the scent of sex and soap. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock and glanced up, knowing he’d be watching. He was and the color in his eyes was fading fast. When was the last time he let someone go down on him?
    She knew the answer; he never let anyone get that close. Her tongue stroked the smooth glistening head of his cock, before she took him in her mouth. Power sparked around them, warming the air and writhing with the steam. She gave his cock a long, slow suck, then went back to letting her tongue