Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Who were now licking each other’s tongues, putting on a show.
“His Majesty there—literally used to be the king of a tiny country somewhere—puts on like he doesn’t care about anything, but two months ago, he almost took off my head because I asked him if he wanted to sample a new variety of blood.”
“I could’ve told you he was unhinged.” Vivek took another delicious sip. “Next time just ask me who to watch out for. Two centuries ago, our blond king made a habit out of biting off people’s fingers and eating them.”
Sutrek blinked and went stiff. “The rumors are right. You’re like Jason. You know everything.”
Vivek felt his skin heat, was glad his skin tone meant that it probably didn’t show except as a slight glow that could be attributed to his fresh intake of blood. “Don’t worry,” he said to Sutrek. “I know what happened in the Mediterranean and it’s no one’s business but your own. I’ve wiped it off all official records as a favor between friends. Live your life—there’s nothing hanging over you anymore.”
The barkeep’s pupils all but took over his irises. “I—” He closed his mouth, swallowed hard, then picked up Vivek’s half-drunk blood and threw it back down his own throat. “I’ll get you a new glass.”
A stir without movement, a sudden silence descending on the room. He caught the scent first, lush and rich and not the least bit girlish. No, the scent was mystery and sensuality and power. Then she emerged from the doorway that led deeper into the Boudoir, and Vivek just stopped breathing.
She was tall, at least a couple of inches taller than him, her skin a flawless golden cream that no mortal would ever possess, and her lips plump and pink without any stain or color that he could see. He was half expecting her hair to be a blazing red, but it was instead a midnight so rich that it was obsidian. A dark contrast to her pale green eyes, the tilt of which made her appear sharply feline.
Her breasts plumped over the deep neck of her sleeveless gown of dark green velvet, her exposed left leg long and perfect in the slit of the figure-hugging dress.
The mistress of the Boudoir was more fascinating than anything he’d conjured up in his imagination.
He’d tried to trace her, found nothing except records for this establishment, an establishment that had only popped up three years ago. He wondered if she was one of those near-immortals who shed identities like a lizard shed skin, and hoped this one would stick until he could satisfy his rampant curiosity about the most mysterious woman in New York.
The Twins sighed when she ran her fingers over their shoulders before she went to the couple in the corner and murmured something that made their faces light up. Plastic dolls brought to life by her.
The king who’d once eaten fingers looked at her with a needy gaze, but she ignored him in a cut that made him whimper and curl into himself, his back to the room. Katrina didn’t seem to notice, her attention fixed on Vivek. He was aware of Sutrek sliding the glass of fresh blood toward him, then all but disappearing into the woodwork as Katrina came to stand beside Vivek.
Her power kissed his skin, prowling over it like the cat in her eyes. He’d felt this kind of vampiric power before; he lived in the Tower, after all, was around some of the strongest vampires in the city on a daily basis. But hers was a thing all in itself. A thing rich and dark and violently sensual.
Sex was power to Katrina and had been for a long, long time.
28
Those feline eyes glittered at him as she accepted the flute of blood that Sutrek placed in front of her before once again attempting to fade away. But she reached out without looking at him, gripped his wrist.
Turning to his pale face afterward, she said, “You are very good at your job, Sutrek.” Her voice was as rich and as sensual as the rest of her, with the slightest undertone of huskiness. “I appreciate you.”
When she released his hand, the vampire stumbled away with an expression of mingled fear and devotion on his face.
Vivek was fighting a reaction far more carnal, one he hadn’t experienced for a hell of a long time. He’d enjoyed sexual intimacy before his Making, and he’d had no trouble finding partners who liked him exactly as he was. A hunter named Neve Pelletier had been his favorite bedmate for years until she’d fallen madly in love with the man who was now her husband and the father of her children.
Vivek hadn’t begrudged her that love, and they remained friends to this day.
Finding sexual partners after being Made hadn’t been hard, either. In fact it had become almost too easy. He’d learned to be expert at what he gave lovers to make up for the things he couldn’t give them, and it turned out that now he had a fully functioning body, his skills put him head and shoulders above many a man on the street. His problem now was that his one-night stands kept on trying to get back in touch.