by L.A. McGinnis
The Darkfell Vampire Clan
I drew back, far enough I could see Deston’s face.
“Back to my original question. Can this mating thing be reversed somehow?” Please, I thought, please let it be reversible.
“No, Seraphina. It cannot.”
Deston was inches away from me, and God help me, I wanted him even closer. There had to be something wrong with me. I wanted to close the space between us, taste him, have him taste me. I want to consume every carnal inch of him in a blazing feast. Desire became a lush flood, saturating my body, the sensation making my head spin. And then he touched me.
“Let me see, Seraphina.” Deston’s hands were impossibly gentle as he turned me, his fingers featherlight when he lifted my hair. The hiss that came out of his mouth made my heart race even faster.
“The mating mark,” he murmured, a second before he pressed his lips to it. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, mon amour, mon amour le plus précieux.”
His lips nibbled, fangs scraped while he murmured softly in French, and while I didn’t understand the words, I felt the emotion behind every single one of them.
Instantly, my body responded, my back arching, driving my ass into his groin, eliciting a heated growl. He pushed a knee between my legs, his hand clamped around the back of my neck, holding me to the wall.
Yes, yes, yes. My body sang, responding to his forbidden touch.