Dead Sexy. Amanda Ashley

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      Santiago paced the floor in front of the hearth, keenly aware of the woman in his bedroom. In his bed.

      Damn. After Marishka, he had sworn he would never again let a woman get close to him, never allow one to become important to him. He had seduced them and bedded them, but never, ever, let himself care for them. But this one, this Regan Delaney, had somehow managed to find her way past his defenses. And while his fondness for her might cause him a few restless nights, it could very well cost her a great deal more.

      He swore softly. Loving him had cost Marishka her life, and while he had vowed that he would protect Regan Delaney from Vasile, he wasn’t all that sure that he would prevail. Vasile was not trapped inside when the sun rode the sky. It was Vasile’s very freedom of movement during the daylight hours that had given the werewolf the power to destroy Marishka while she took her rest. Had Santiago been new in the life, he had no doubt that he, too, would have died that day so long ago. But he had been an old vampire, even then. His age and his instinct for self-preservation had served him well that day.

      He paused in midstride, listening as Regan kicked off her shoes, drew back the covers on his bed, and slid beneath the sheets. With his preternatural senses, he could hear each breath she took, each beat of her heart, hear the whisper of blood flowing through her veins…

      His fangs teased his tongue. She was here, in his house, in his bed. His for the taking.

      He resumed pacing, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to sweep her into his arms and succumb to the hunger burning through him. Every breath he took carried the scent of her hair, her skin, her life’s blood. She would be sweet, so sweet. He could almost feel her in his arms, taste her on his tongue.

      One taste. She need never know. She would never miss it.

      A thought carried him to the bedroom door. He looked down to find his hand on the knob, unable to remember how he had gotten there.

      Swearing a vile oath, he stormed out of his apartment, down the stairs, and across the park. He came to an abrupt halt when his foot touched the sidewalk. What was he doing? He couldn’t go haring off into the night, couldn’t leave Regan alone, unprotected, while Vasile was in the city.

      Santiago’s gaze swept right and left. The werewolf could be here now, waiting, watching.

      Blowing out a deep breath, Santiago returned to his apartment. Entering his bedroom, he made sure the woman was sleeping peacefully. With a sigh, he settled down in the chair beside the closet, his every sense attuned to the mortal female in his bed. He was aware of every breath she took, every beat of her heart, the faint, flowery scent of her hair, her skin.

      His hunger rose, and with it a growing desire to crawl into bed beside her, to take what he wanted, by force if necessary.

      When his fangs pricked his tongue, he fled the room, afraid he would succumb to the sweet temptation she presented.

      In the living room, he flung himself onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

      It was going to be a long night.