Forever Vampire. Michele Hauf

and increased pressure. Just a second or two … Sleep took her quickly. She relaxed in his arms.

      He dropped the woman noiselessly at his feet. He glanced to the van—the mortal man hugged the rear fender, delirious. Blood ran from his mouth.

      The vampiress was gone.

      Vail leaped over the sprawled female and tilted the man’s head to the side. “Did she bite you?”

      “Bite me? Dude, she punched me. Think she knocked out a tooth. What’s up with that?”

      What was up was that the wily vampiress had been waiting for him to drop his guard so she could escape.

      “Stone-headed vampire!” he cursed himself.

      Trotting along the row of parked cars, he spied a large gap in the chain link. Ducking through, Vail emerged in the pristine parking lot of a car dealer. Hundreds of cars were parked row after militant row. Perfect place for a vampiress to hide.

      Vail kicked a tire and swore again. His cell phone rang and he angrily tugged it out from a front pocket and answered. “What?”

      It was Rhys Hawkes wanting an update. At one o’clock in the morning. Their kind did keep odd hours.

      “I had her. Yes, the Santiago chick. But I lost her.” His eyes scanned the cars, searching for movement. She couldn’t have gotten far. “Yes, I know. I’ll get her back. But she says she fenced the dress.”

      “We need that bloody gown,” Rhys muttered. “When you find her, you put the screws to her to get her to talk. Torture her if you have to.”

      “With pleasure. I’ll call you tomorrow, Hawkes,” he said, and snapped the phone shut.

      Torture, eh? This job was turning into a real riot.

      A rail train rumbled by, the horn blaring as it passed a nearby crossing. Ducking and eyeing the cars at hood and trunk level, Vail didn’t spy anything out of place. So, he lay on his back, looking heavenward. He turned his head left. No feet or crouched bodies tucked behind a wheel. And then right. A pair of red heels peeked out from behind a rear tire. “Gotcha.”

      LYRIC WOKE AND WRINKLED her nose. Mildew. Smelled like that damned awful bed in the apartment where she’d been squatting.

      Her wrists stung and her jaw hurt. Then she remembered looking up at Vail’s kick-ass snakeskin boots. He’d found her crouched behind an SUV. Thanks to a passing train, she hadn’t heard his approach. Asshole.

      She worked her jaw back and forth, wincing. When she tried to reach for the painful spot, her hands tugged against something that wouldn’t budge.

      She tilted her head back. Her wrists were bound to an old iron headboard with a leather belt. She lay on the bed. Bound.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “GET ME OFF HERE!”

      “Now, now.” Vail’s teasing grin appeared above Lyric’s face. He must have been sitting right beside the bed the whole time. He stroked her cheek. “We’ve fun stuff to do before I release you. I’m going to make you sing the name of your fence.”

      Letting out a frustrated growl, Lyric blurted, “Never happen.”

      “We’ll see.”

      He produced a knife from inside one of his boots and flicked out the blade. Like that was supposed to scare her? Pressing the tip to the neckline of her dress, he performed a deft move that opened the jersey to reveal her breasts.

      “Pretty. And no lacy things to hide them. Bet you like to have them licked, eh?”

      “If you touch me …”

      “What? You’ll succumb to my command? You’ll cream in the pretty little panties I know you’re not wearing? How easily do you come, Lyric? Just a few licks?”

      The arrogance of him!

      He leaned down and lashed his tongue across one of her nipples. Despite her anger, Lyric gasped. His slick, wet tongue sent shivers through her breasts and arms. Mercy, that felt good.

      She twisted her head away from his keen observation of her every flinch. “Don’t do this.”

      “You want me to stop?” Blue eyes sought hers, his mouth but a breath from her wet nipple. “Tell me your fence’s name.”

      “Never.”

      His tongue lashed slowly about her nipple, taking exquisite time in circling it, and then he sucked it in.

      Lyric squeezed her eyelids shut and held back another breathy gasp. Nothing felt better than this. If this was his method of torture, she could get behind it one hundred percent. But the only talking she’d be doing was a bold cry when she came.

      His teeth grazed her other nipple. Her chest hummed and the tingle of want shot down to her belly and lower. She tugged against the restraints. This was not fair!

      A languorous suckle drew up a moan to her tongue. She arched her back to receive further torture, but when she didn’t feel the next lash of heat, she opened her eyes to find him waiting for her.

      “You want it?” he teased.

      “Hell, no.” She sank into the bed. Two could play this game. But the air cooling her wet nipples only worked to tighten them more and increase her desire. “Thought you didn’t like vampires?”

      “I don’t drink their blood. But I can appreciate a gorgeous woman, vampire or not. And your breasts are—stone me, they are perfection. I guess that makes me a breast man, eh?”

      Hallelujah! Oh, Lyric, don’t succumb.

      The next lash devastated her stalwart resistance and Lyric lifted her chest to accept his exquisite punishment. Her fingers curled about the leather strap binding her hands, but being bound no longer frightened her—it turned her on.

      His tongue was hot and masterful, and he made it soft and then firm to draw it expertly across her flesh. So close to some kind of giddy release, she pressed her legs together but couldn’t quite achieve the squeeze that would make her come.

      “Not a tough torturer, if you ask me,” she said on short breaths.

      “Torturers, by nature, get off on their jobs. I’m no different. This is really getting you off, isn’t it?”

      “Bloody Mary,” she swore.

      “Uh-uh. One shouldn’t invoke the name of the dark prince’s girlfriend unless they wish Himself to pay a visit.”

      “I’d prefer him over you right now.”

      “Oh, I doubt it.”

      True. Himself was the devil. No vampire ever invoked his name three times unless they wanted to deal with Hell.

      Vail sat back and hooked a finger at the vee in her dress where the cut ended just above her belly button. With a tug, the jersey parted down to the hem. “Doesn’t take much to get you wet, eh?”

      Lyric struggled against the belt. She was strong, but so was leather.

      She held her thighs tightly together as his fingers trailed the crease formed between each leg and her mons. The soft tickle of his fingers felt—damn, it felt great. And the skim of his cold metal rings stirred her flesh to goose bumps.

      Her hard, ruched nipples pleaded for more attention, and he noticed. Vail flicked his thumb over one of them. Much to her horror, Lyric gasped. She couldn’t stop from showing her arousal. Damn her. And damn him.

      “I like the taste of your skin,” he said, and lowered his mouth to her breast again.

      He suckled her as if he was enjoying a dessert, rolling her nipple between his lips and tonguing it rapidly, then more slowly, then tending her entire breast. He kissed every curve of each of her breasts until she wondered if a woman