Carnal Thirst Read Free Page B

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    She studied him for several moments when he didn't respond. “You can't keep me a prisoner here."
    He looked at her with interest. “Why not?"
    She gaped at him. What the hell kind of conversation was this to be having with a maybe/maybe not killer? “What do you mean, why not? Because you can't, that's why not! People will be looking for me. I have friends! They'll have the cops down on your ass so fast you won't know what hit you."
    He looked at her intently for several moments. “You have no close friends and no relatives. Even if you did, it would be of no consequence to me. Nor, might I add, does the thought of having cops on my ass particularly distress me."
    "How do you know I don't have any friends or family?” she demanded indignantly.
    He pushed away from the bed abruptly. Before she could even blink, he was standing practically nose to nose with her. She felt her jaw sag in disbelief. He lifted a hand and very lightly traced it along her temple.
    "Because it is here."
    Maggie swallowed with an effort. “What are you, a fucking mind reader or something?"
    "No, I'm a fucking vampire,” he said, smiling thinly.

    * * * *
He wasn't sure why he'd brought her here. It was not physical attraction that had drawn his attention, though after he'd cleaned her, he saw that she was very appealing and womanly—reminiscent of women born in his own day. Physically, she was not what his “type” had become over the long years. He preferred small, slender women, but then, it seemed modern society had shifted to that preference decades ago and he along with it.
    He'd tended to her for three days while she struggled to stay alive. Bathed the feverish sweat from her brow, changed the dressing on her wound, and cleaned the blood from her skin. He'd seen every inch of her body in repose.
    It had almost been like tending a child, except she resembled no youth, and her appearance was such that he had no trouble distinguishing her from one so unsuitable for his carnal appetites.
    She was buxom and tall, leggy. Her bare legs had entranced him while she writhed in bed. He'd had to sponge bathe her, touching every inch of skin, and he was surprised at how smooth she was, how hairless and fine her flesh. She was strong and muscled, but the hard edges of an average weighted woman did not exist on her. Softness appealed to him immensely. Women should be soft, malleable to a man's rough body.
    It had taken a supreme effort of will not to explore her body as she lay helpless, but he found it distasteful to take advantage of a woman recovering from death and going through the change.
    It amused him to know that he was not so much a monster as he'd supposed he was. Had he been, he could have fucked her as much as he pleased and left her to die when he was through. He'd known of others who had, and the act disgusted him more so now than it had before.
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    She was awake now. And the set of her jaw and stance, the fire in her eyes and her threat to take his head off both amused him and made his groin tighten uncomfortably.
    This was no fleeting desire. She promised full, lasting passion, if only he could unleash it. Now he could press her and release the lust that had built inside him. He'd been long without a woman of any kind. The vampiresses could not move him as short lived humans could, vibrant with life and passion. He'd expected to have a human of his own by now, but the woman he'd found most appealing had been taken from him before he could complete binding her. He'd come upon Maggie after his fight with Raoul over that woman. How odd that losing her had led him to such a welcome surprise.
    The resistance of her mind to his probing fascinated him. He marveled at her strength of will, perhaps more so because she could resist him even near death. Once he'd broken through, the memories that lay inside allowed him to explore