Chapter 85
Chapter 85
Dead silence.
“Yes, they do that p>
She blew out a breath, like she was emptying her lungs of all the
fear.
“Alright. Can we just get this over with?” Finally, she summ
her courage and asked.
Amos snapped his head up, colliding with her gaze. She was still
stiff, spine rod–straight, but the fear was gone. Replaced by a sheer
resolve that screamed-“Let’s get this done so I can go home p>
Seeing that expression–like she was marching to the gallows–doused Amos’s anticipation like a bucket of ice water. He’d waited months for this Match, and he ended up with a woman who looked like she’d rather jump off a roof than step inside his house.
“If you’re miserable about it, forget it,” his voice turned cold. “I can
wait for the next one p>
Her face fell instantly. “No. I said I’d do it, and I will p>
“Hah. Men hate hearing that forced bullshit,” Amos muttered, the
sting slipping out.
She frowned. “What does that mean p>
“It means I have zero interest in drinking from a ‘suffering saint.
Sorry to waste your time p>
He started to slam the door.
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He was starving, sure. But he had standards–mostly, he didn’t want the headache. Feeding from an unwilling donor was like chewing wax. Or worse, cleaning up a messy aftermath.
“Wait p>
A hand shot out, jamming into the door crack.
Amos froze, staring at her with dark, dangerous eyes.
She glared back. The hardness in her face softened just a fraction–not quite an apology, but definitely regret.
“Sorry. This is just… really weird for me. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared of the pain. But I really need to do this p>
“Money problems?” Amos narrowed his eyes, sizing her up.
“None of your business p>
He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.
“I swear, I’m not unwilling. I’m just nervous p>
She locked eyes with him, and for a second, raw vulnerability
flashed in those dark depths.
Amos should have told her to get lost.
Seriously. It was the only rational move.
But then, that damn breeze hit again.
The scent–that lethal caramel sweetness–crashed over him like a
tsunami.
“Fine. Get in p>
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He stepped back, using every ounce of willpower to crush the urge to grab her, pin her to the floor, and drain her dry right there.
She squeezed into the entryway, flashing him a smile that looked more like a grimace.
Amos tried to smile back politely. But the second his lip twitched, it grazed his throbbing fangs. The smile twisted into something feral. A predator baring its teeth.
“I’m Chloe, by the way. Chloe Vargas p>
Amos gave a stiff nod, pretending to be civilized, pretendi brain wasn’t drowning in thoughts of tearing open her vein
“Pleasure p>
“So… where do we do this?” She clutched her bag, eyes darting
around the hall.
Amos jerked his chin toward the back.
“Sitting room p>
She followed him silently. Amos could feel her eyes scanning the house. He’d scrubbed the place top to bottom for this meal, and now? He felt like an idiot prepping for a blind date.
In the sitting room, Amos pointed to the Edwardian green velvet
sofa.
“Sit p>
Chloe looked at the expensive vintage couch, then down at herself.
“On this? You want to… suck… right here p>
Chapter 85
Amos forced his muscles to unlock. Her tension was contagious; it was making him rigid.
And in this enclosed space? Her scent was suffocating.
“Yes,” Amos said, voice hard as stone. “Sit however you want. I’ll
work around you p>
She swallowed hard, dropped her bag on the floor, and curled into the corner of the sofa. Her gaze darted to the blood–red roses, then landed on Amos’s face. She looked ready to die.
“Where are you going to bite p>
Fuck.
That question was a match thrown into a powder keg. Amos felt his fangs twitch violently, nearly losing control on the spot.
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva just to speak.
“Neck is easiest p>
She gave a stiff nod. “Okay p>
Amos moved in.
Slow. Quiet. Like he didn’t want to spook the prey.
When he stood over her, Chloe didn’t flinch. She just stared. Amos leaned down, planting one knee on the cushion, hand bracing on the backrest, caging her body with his.
The position–trapping his prey–sent a hunter’s thrill vibrating
through his nerves.
But he didn’t get rough. He kept his posture fake–relaxed, leaning
Chapter 85
closer.
Amos reached out with his free hand, brushing her hair aside,
exposing the pale, glowing curve of her neck.
His fingertips grazed that delicate skin.
Zap.
It was electric.
Chloe gasped, a sound that was half–breath, half–moan. Am
couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else, and his brai
fried to care.
Her body heat pulled at him like a magnet. He could clearly see the
carotid artery fluttering wildly beneath her thin skin.
Thump–thump. Thump–thump.
The next second, Amos cupped the back of her head, pressing his
lips to that beating pulse.
No hesitation. He bit down.
The fangs slid through skin with terrifying ease.
Dimly, he heard her cry out, felt her body go taut as a bowstring
beneath him.
But then, the first taste of blood hit his tongue.
Boom.
Instantly, Amos’s world went white.
It was Chloe–hot, rich, overwhelming. The pleasure hit him like a
Chapter 85
tidal wave. He let out a low, animalistic growl, arms tightening violently, crushing her against his chest as he drank greedily.
He was screwed.
One taste, and he was NEVER letting go.
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