Turn to me, Natalie. His mental call to her was dangerous, of course. Dangerous for him. Dangerous for her, too, but she was in danger, anyway. Look at me now. Her gaze traveled slowly upward. With every moment, physical awareness stretched tauter between them. Her eyes wandered over Julian's face, over his slashing dark brows, down the ridge of his aquiline nose to his chiseled mouth.
©2013 Naima Haviland (P)2014 Naima Haviland
"You're our angel!" The ballerina smiled. The vampire smiled back. She explained, "An angel is someone who makes an extremely generous donation to demonstrate his or her love for the ballet." "I do love the ballet," Julian told Natalie fervently, his shadowed eyes fixed on her breasts. Their firm swells strained against the sweat-soaked fabric; buttons were undone to the moist hollow between them. God. He didn't have to kill her right away, did he?