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his hand from my mouth, and when I didn’t scream—I was too breathless, too surprised—he smiled, flashing white teeth. I drew a breath as my body reacted with shocking intensity, and he lowered his mouth to my jaw, his lips tracing a burning line to my mouth.
    Against my lips, he murmured again, “Say yes.”
    I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
    He growled low in his throat, and suddenly lifted me by the waist. I wrapped my legs around him reflexively, holding on to him tightly with my thighs. When he shifted me, I felt his erection press against my leg, and I gasped. He held me up with his firm hands on my ass, my arms around his neck, and his lips and tongue worked against my neck, drawing a pleading moan from my lips.
    Brogan turned, dropping me onto the bed, and slid on top of me before I could even think of escaping—not that I wanted to. Hovering above me, his eyes shined like lights in the darkness, smouldering. His lips curled, and he lowered his head, his soft hair tickling my chin. His teeth sank into my neck.
    I jolted awake with my heart racing and lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The room felt absurdly cold, and as I rolled over, I saw why. My bedroom window was open, just a crack, and the blinds were rustling. The streetlamps outside cast stripes across my ceiling, making the shadows in my room shift like living creatures. I blinked, rubbing my eyes. I couldn’t remember leaving the window open, but I was too tired to care. I got up, closed it, and crawled back into bed, tucking the duvet up to my chin.
    I didn’t have any more dreams that night.

 
    Chapter Six
     
     
    ** Brogan **
     
    I knew something was very wrong the second I heard shouting from the hotel room Brent was staying in. There were at least two guys in there with him, and they didn’t sound happy. My gut dropped as I stood outside the door, listening, a wad of cash burning a hole in my back pocket.
    After Brent’s visit on Saturday night, I’d spent the whole of Sunday and Monday trying to think of some way to come up with some extra cash for him, fast, and failing. I wasn’t going to borrow from Jet, though I knew he had the money and would give me it, no questions asked. Like I’d said, I wasn’t bringing him into the shit. Besides the rich, lonely housewife I knew, the only other plan I could come up with was robbing a liquor store. Thanks to Brent’s shit, I’d done that before and had spent six months in juvie.
    I was twenty-one. I wouldn’t get off that easy. I’d be locked up for a good few years if I was caught. I wasn’t risking that, not for him. So, out of options, I had finished work on Tuesday and called up Mrs Hamilton. She was glad to hear from me, and said her husband was out of town for a business convention all week, so I could come over right away. I felt sick to my stomach the whole way to her massive, gated mansion.
    Don’t get me wrong, Mrs Hamilton—“Please, call me Livvy,” she always said—was a good-looking woman for her age, which I suspected was more than a few days over the thirty-four she claimed to be. Still, I hated whoring myself. It was something I hadn’t done since I was sixteen, and I’d really rather not return to it. Those had been desperate years of my life, when I’d been on my own and in need of money, and just coming into my powers. I’d been horny as hell, and confused, craving Lust and blood in almost equal measure and unable to control myself.
    I’d eventually learned to control my Hungers, saved up enough money to get a flat, and gotten out of that game. I was never going back. That night was just…a hiccup. After that, I had vowed, Brent was on his own. No matter how much he begged next time he got into shit. I was sick of being his fucking life preserver.
    My evening with Mrs Hamilton had earned me thirteen-hundred pounds cash. The woman was very generous with her husband’s money. It had also lost me half