Read Eternal Blood: The Mark of the Vampire for Free Online

he ever stopped on red?
    “Try me,” he challenged.
    She smiled—it may have been a sad, pitying smile, but he didn’t care. She was away from the wall and coming at him like a tiger, graceful and deadly. Her fangs flashed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his mouth.
    Holy shit.
    Gray felt as though he were dying, drowning. And he welcomed it—hell, he would’ve begged for it. It was the kind of kiss that consumed. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to force the breath from your body because you handed it over without question or complaint. It was unlike any kiss Gray had ever experienced and as he gripped her waist and yanked her closer, impossibly closer, he let go of all thought, all concern. As the water rained down on both of them, and the world grew lava hot, Gray let the veana who both tortured and turned him on kiss the shit out of him.
    Goddamn, her lips were so soft, impossibly soft—and luscious and teasing and when her tongue began to thrust into his mouth, back and forth with a sexual power that sent come to the tip of his cock, his fangs descended further and trembled with a desire he’d never experienced.
    A desire maybe he should never have experienced because it would make every kiss pale in comparison after this.
    She pulled back then, her eyes finding and locking with his. “I’ll let you finish up in here.”
    She left the shower, walked right out of the bathroom, dripping wet and sans towel.
    Gray hesitated for less than a second, the sight of her walking away wrenching something deep inside him. He forgot everything else, even the running shower, and bolted after her. The hallway was empty, but he spotted her wet footprints and followed her down the stairs. He knew, his brain knew, that the wisest course of action was not the one he was taking. And yet, it was as though an animal’s instinct, hunger, primal need had taken over and he was just along for the ride.
    He cleared the last step, stood there for a moment sniffing. Where was she? Wet and cruel. Where had she run off to?
    Then he spied droplets of water in the carpet leading down another hallway. He took off, ran down its length and into a room that contained her scent, her wet, teasing, diabolical scent.
    Could’ve been the kitchen, could’ve been the garage—he was too blind to everything else but her to notice or care. He thought maybe there was a bed on one wall, but all he saw, all he wanted was the veana undressing near the window. He was on her in seconds, had her around the waist, had her yanked back against his chest, and without thought had his mouth on the back of her neck.
    She tasted like sweat, and it was the sweetest, most erotic flavor to ever hit his tongue.
    His fangs extended to pin-prick sharpness.
    “Fuck, Gray!”
    She wrenched free, turned in his grasp and slapped him hard in the face with the palm of her hand.
    It felt like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. That’s how gone he was—beside himself. Hunger like he’d never known—predatory desire like he’d never known—coursed through his blood. The need was insatiable and he was unstoppable. He moved forward, struck again at her neck and this time made contact.
    Dillon sucked in air, gripped his shoulders hard, painfully hard, but she didn’t push him away. He knew she could—knew she was stronger than him by a thousand.
    Blood, delectable blood snaked down his throat, and as it did he heard her moan, felt her nipples—naked and cool—grow hard against his chest. Oh shit, he wanted to fuck her senseless. His head dropped further, his fangs plunging deeper into her skin until he could do nothing but drink, drink and lap at her skin with his tongue.
    “Fuck,” she cried out, her nails digging into his skin. “Fuck!” And then she was slapping him. Slapping his face, his cheek, over and over as she ground her hips against his.
    It only made him drink harder, deeper.
    She knew her effect on him.
    He knew she knew it.
    Suddenly,