I smile.Her eyes narrow.She’s irritated as much as I am.That makes my smirk deepen.
Which makes her growl legit rumble out of her chest.I poke her smack in the middle of her décolletage.“You.Don’t.Scare.Me.”
Her eyes close.She takes a deep breath, using what I imagine is a considerable amount of strength and patience, and lets it out.The only hint of irritation is the flaring of her nostrils.Which is kind of cute.It softens some of her hard lines.I’m going to enjoy antagonising the shit out of her.
She draws her body back, wafting her hand around.“You are an inconvenience at a party I thought I was going to get drunk at.Much like the party you gate-crashed in?—”
I’m up and lunging forward, my hand slamming over her lips.She startles, her arm wrapping around my waist to steady us.Her body presses against mine, warmth pooling between us despite the fact that her skin is cool under my touch.Everything about her is steel and strength.The most surprising realisation though, is that I feel safe wrapped in her grip.
“Don’t.No one needs to know.I got in and came back.I didn’t cause any trouble.So just leave it, please…”
“Sth eww do knnow ow tt ehave,” she says against my palm.
“What?”I say, my face scrunching as I try to understand her words.She reaches up and peels my fingers from her lips.
“I said, so you do know how to behave.Seeing as you said please so nicely, consider your secret kept.Now, as for the rest of your antics?—”
Hold on.Who the hell is she speaking to?
“Antics?Don’t act like you’re so much older than me, you’re not my mother.”
Her head rocks back as a laugh spills from her belly.
“Mother of Blood, Penelope… I’m over five hundred years old.”
That promptly shuts me up.I pout.Which serves to make her laugh harder.
Whatever.
She must have been turned around the same age as me though, because she looks the same sort of age.How do you even tell how old a vampire is?
She stops laughing and turns serious.
“I think we need to have a little chat about your behaviour…”
“My—?Ugh.One, don’t patronise me.And two, the only thing we need to chat about is how you’re going to sit in the corner and stay quiet while I get through my sister’s wedding.”
Dahlia raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at me.“More like you can play nice and behave yourself like the good little princess you are, or we can do this the hard way.I’ll let you decide.Hmm?”She leans into my neck and inhales one, long, deep sniff.No warmth ripples from her skin and yet her presence fills the atmosphere.She’s heavy, domineering, like she owns every ounce of air she passes through.
The space between my legs heats.
She lets a little gasp of air out.“Fuck, I forgot how much you smell like crack.”
I shift, trying to move my underwear.
“Even with the crusted blood of some other bodyguard on me?”I say, my nose crinkling.
“I’ve never smelt a magician.You’re divine.Fresh and sweet, like spring flowers and the deep heart of evergreen forests.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, my pussy.My nipples harden.
“Gods,” Dahlia says.“You’re making the scent stronger.It must be the magician’s blood in you.I’ve never drunk one either.”
That makes the heat cease.Like fuck is she drinking me.Never.Doesn’t matter how good the orgasm looked in the Whisper Club.What if she can’t stop.Besides, doesn’t she realise who I am?How dare she assume she can just drink a princess.
I refuse to flinch.Refuse to back down.I’m not going to let some fucking lowlife vampire intimidate me.My hands find their way to Dahlia’s chest, and I shove her out of my personal space.
But she goes solid and immobile.My teeth bare, the prickle of irritation clawing through my veins.
