celiabreslin

And crashed into a cement wall.

Steel hands grabbed my arm, their owner yanking me up into the trees. We landed on the limb of an enormous Eucalyptus, the branch hefty enough to support us with ease.

My attacker pinned me face-first to the trunk, grinding an erection into my backside. Panic and pain pierced my gut. Oh, hell no. I struggled to free myself, my power eager to fry the bastard. But a familiar wintery power slid under my skin and doused my fire as if it were a weak little matchstick.

Warm breath teased my earlobe. “Hello, pet.”

I froze. Fuck me. Dixon.

He nipped my ear lobe with wicked sharp fangs. “Miss me?”

“No.” The cut stung. Blood trickled, warm and wet, down my neck.

“No? I’m hurt.” Jolts of icy power secured me to the tree trunk while Dixon’s skeletal hands roamed over my body.

“Back off, you undead wanker,” I snapped, refusing to surrender to my fears.

He chuckled. “I do so love it when you speak my language, my little kitten.”

The world spun when he flipped me around and lassoed me tighter to the trunk with his power, his lean, tall body caging mine. Head lowered, gaunt face too close, his silver eyes shone like moonlight. Mesmerizing, seductive moonlight.

Shit. He was trying to compel me. Very few vampires could do that, and they had to be old. Unfortunately, Dixon was as old as Stonehenge. Maybe older.

I lowered my gaze to his thin, blue-black lips. They curled up in a creepy smile under my inspection, crinkling the lightning bolt tattoo streaking across one hollow cheek. He circled one long fang with the tip of his tongue. “Come now, pet. No more words for your favorite admirer?”

Anger almost had me hurling insults at the bastard but I clenched my teeth. You’re bat shit crazy, and I’m going to kill you if I can get my hands free.