|GET YOUR COPY HERE!|
Max is hunting a killer who leaves bodies drained of blood. After being attacked, he never expected to wake up in Carter's bed. Who is this man? What is his dark secret? Is he the one leaving a trail of bodies across the city?
Carter watched Max's eyes widen. The subtle reaction provided the only outward indication that he had even heard what Carter had said. Max couldn't know that the vampire was able to read his inward reaction just as clearly. Didn't realize that he could sense the change in the rhythm of the young man's blood as it pumped faster through veins and arteries. Didn't know that he was thirsty, and that he could smell the iron and coppery sweetness in every exhalation that fell from between Max's parted lips.
"You killed them?" Max repeated dully.
"And exactly how did you do that, Carter?"
Carter’s gaze tracked the bob of Max’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. He had to give Max credit. The man was taking his nonchalant admission to killing two people better than he would have expected; but beneath the bravado, Carter could smell fear. The widening of Max’s pupils and the flaring of his nostrils told Carter that he was afraid, and that the man knew he wasn’t lying.
Full lips lifted in a cold smile. "Well now, that's a trade secret." Carter watched as Max's pupils dilated in fear. Taking a deep breath, he filled his nostrils with the fresh scent of adrenaline as it surged through the other man's veins, let it wash over him and spark his senses. The brief thought that he should have fed before he saw Max again skittered across the surface of his brain but he shook the thought away. What was he thinking? He was going to kill Max. Wasn't he? That's what he'd done a million times before. In the eighty-four years since his human death and his vampire birth, not once, not once had he ever questioned a kill. Never had he felt the desire to touch, hold, and caress war with the natural instinct to rip and tear, and feel the blood pump into his mouth and over his tongue. Of course, sex was a part of the hunt and he had always taken more than his fill without a backward glance. His sire had taught him well. Any emotion that may have remained deep inside him had been squashed long ago. Buried beneath a layer of ice where no one could reach it.
Until the eyes staring at him now had gazed blearily into his in that dark alley and that one word had echoed into the night air—Please. Carter frowned as a long forgotten plea skittered across the surface of his mind, so many memories, so many faces, so many voices begging for their lives. What was so different about Max Bowman?
Didn't it remind you of someone else? Doesn't he remind you of someone else? He ignored the nagging whine of his inner voice and swallowed down his retort.
Anger slowly unfurled in his belly and he ran his tongue over his fangs as they descended. Who was this human? What was this boy doing to him? How dare he make him feel? He didn't feel. He was a vampire, he took what he wanted, when he wanted it. The hunt was on his terms, no one else's. He chose his prey, be it based on a pretty smile, a pair of sparkling eyes, or the muscled curve of a firm ass; then he toyed with them, fucked them, and slaked his thirst without a second thought. That's how it had always been, and that's how it should always be.
Carter’s gaze flitted between Max’s eyes and the throbbing artery in his neck and felt a surge of satisfaction when Max gripped the silk sheet in his fist as the fool tried to hide his fear. "Carter?" Max said quietly. "How did you kill them?"
Carter stared at the fluttering pulse in Max's neck and, although his voice was soft, it was as cold as a blue steel blade. "I sucked them dry and threw them in a dumpster in the alley." His gaze moved to Max's lips and his tongue slipped out to moisten his own.
"Does knowing that make you feel better?" His hand lifted from where it was resting against his thigh and he felt rather than heard the intake of breath that Max took as his long fingers brushed slowly over the pulse beating wildly in the young man's throat.
"Does knowing that I can smell your blood on your breath, feel the heat of your fear, hear the pumping of your heart, does knowing any of that make you feel better?" His gaze shifted and locked with Max's. "How about knowing what I did to them, and then knowing that I was going to do the same to you?"