The Bitten - By L.A. Banks

Chapter One

The lair in St. Lucia

"Tell me your darkest fantasy," she murmured against his ear, gently pulling the lobe between her teeth.

Carlos smiled with his eyes still closed, too exhausted to do much else. Damali sounded so wickedly sexy, but why did women always go there - dredging for answers to questions that they really didn't want to hear, especially while in bed? "I don't have any, except being with you."

"Tell me," she pleaded low and throaty, her tone so seductive that he'd swear she was all vamp.

No. He was not going to go there, no matter what. He was not going to stare into those big brown eyes of hers and become hypnotized by them. Dark fantasies... She had no idea what went through a master's mind. Despite himself, his smile broadened. The things he'd seen... sheeit. Had she any idea of the lifetimes of vampire knowledge he'd acquired from Kemet through Rome and beyond, just by being offered a council seat? And Rome... damn... no way.

He stroked her still-damp back, his fingers reveling in the tingling sensation her tattoo created as he touched the base of her spine, hoping she'd let his love be enough to satisfy her.

"You're my fantasy," he finally said to appease her when she became morbidly silent. But he'd also meant what he'd said, albeit skillfully avoiding the question she'd really asked. "You're this dead man's dream come true, baby."

Her response was a chuckle, followed by an expulsion of hot breath that caressed his ear. "Liar," she whispered, as she slid her body onto his. "I know where you want to go."

"D..." he murmured, too tired to argue with her, and much too compromised by her warmth to avoid being stirred by her butter softness. "C'mon, girl... stop playing."

His hand continued to stroke her back, finding the deep curve in it that gave rise to her firm, tight bottom. He allowed his fingers to leisurely play at the slit that separated both halves of it, enjoying the moistness that he knew he'd created there. Her immediate sigh made him shudder and seek her mouth to kiss her gently, half hoping to shut her up, half hoping to derail his own darkening thoughts. Without resistance, she deepened their kiss, rewarding his senses with a hint of mango, the merest trace of red wine, and her own sweetness fused with his salty aftermath as his tongue searched the soft interiors.

Damn, this woman was fine... five feet seven inches' worth of buff curves packaged in flawless bronze skin, a lush mouth, brunette locks that kissed her shoulders, and a shea-oil scent that was slowly driving him crazy. It always did. He breathed in the fragrances held by her still-damp scalp: vanilla, coconut oils; and then there was also the scent of heavy, pungent sex hanging in the air.

"You always smell so good," he murmured, kissing the edge of her jaw. He could still taste her on his mouth when he licked his lips. "Hmmm..." Sticky, sweet-salty, female. The way she breathed against his neck, and her head found the crook of his shoulder, she fit so perfectly, like a handmade blanket on him. Even exhausted, her slick wetness made him want to move just to maintain their friction, their pulse. Merely thinking about it made him hard again.

"I know you have to eat," she said in a husky tone against the sensitive part of his throat, her tongue trailing up his jugular vein, causing him to tighten his hold on her.

"Yeah, I do... in a few," he admitted quietly, now too distracted to go out hunting.

The way she tilted her hips forward - ever so slightly, a tease, an offering, just a contraction of the muscles beneath her bronze skin - fought with the hunger and was winning. They'd been at it all night, and he glimpsed the moonlight that washed over her through the deck opening. Silver blue hues shimmered on her smooth ass, and he touched the light with his fingers a millimeter above her skin. She shivered at the almost-touch. That was always her most powerful weapon; her reaction to whatever he was doing to her just blew him away. One more round and he'd have to go before dawn trapped and starved him.

"What's your darkest fantasy?" he said smiling, turning the question on her, and not caring that a little fang was beginning to show with his smile. He passed his tongue over his incisors, willing patience as he played the game that she