Page 31 of Bloodhunter

A button from his shirt caught on my gaping wound and I lostmy breath, whether from ecstasy or agony I couldn’t tell.

I wanted him to press his lips against the wound and lick,suck, and kiss it, to take a nipple into his mouth, to swirl his tongue aroundit, to throw me to the floor and shove himself into me, hard.

I wanted it more than I’d ever imagined wanting anything inmy life.

Shock flared in his eyes as he stood there before me, hisbody stiff and unmoving as I grasped his face and pulled him to me.

“Clayton,” I whispered. “What’s happening?”

I had no idea why my body was reacting so strongly, but itwas beyond my power to stop it. Part of me knew I didn’t want to do what I wasdoing, but it was as though something else—someoneelse—had control ofmy body. My desires.

He shoved himself away from me so violently he slammed intothe coffee table, fell over it, and then jumped to his feet, his starehorrified. “What have youdone?”

My entire body throbbing with lust, I stalked him. “I don’tknow,” I murmured. “I don’t know.”

He held his palms up to ward me off. “Stop.”

“I can’t,” I said, matter-of-factly, but my voice was thickwith horror. “Clayton. I can’t.” And I reached for him.

He glanced down at my chest, at my glistening, slick skin.“The Foam of Aphrodite,” he murmured. “What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything. But I need you to…” I gestured at mynaked body as the raw, throbbing power of lust rolled through me. “Dosomething. Please. Please. I can’t stand it.”

It didn’t lessen, that desire. It grew.

It devoured me.

I launched myself at him as part of me stood back andwatched in humiliated horror. He caught me, his arms reflexively closing aroundmy squirming body, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him with a strength Ishouldn’t have had.

I humped him like a misbehaving dog, trying to relieve someof the horrendous pressure throbbing and building and screaming between mythighs. I could not help it.

I could not.

I inhaled his scent and caught nothing but man, nothing butheat, and pulled it deep into my lungs. Then I shoved my mouth against the sideof his neck, and bit him. I needed to devour him. To smell him, taste him, feelhim.

I saw my control like a tiny bright star in the dark of my mind,and I could have reached out to grab it, I could have. But at the last minute,I turned away. I didn’t want the control. I wanted Clayton.

There was nothing but raw, throbbing need.

“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, strained, and raw.“She won’t allow it, Trinity.”

That was the first time he’d said my name. I hadn’t feltlike he really saw me until he said my name. I pulled my mouth away from hisneck. “I don’t care,” I murmured, and slid my lips across his.

Lust surged and jumped from my mouth to his—I could feel itsparking between us like electricity, like fire.

He groaned into my mouth. He tightened his fingers on mythighs, pulling me suddenly and violently closer, and I climaxed right then andthere, squirming against his abdomen, crying out, lost.

I was aware, vaguely, when my door crashed against the walland someone sped into the room. I was aware, but I was too consumed by my needto care.

But when my unwelcome visitor grabbed me by the back of myneck and tore me from Clayton’s arms, I suddenly cared very, very much.

I landed on the floor almost hard enough to shake theoverwhelming lust from my body, and Clayton and the intruder collided.

Angus.

Son of abitch.

I stared up at them, a little more lucid, and then scootedback in a hurry when they began to fight. I was warped. I knew I was depraved,because the sounds of grunts and pain and hard fists slamming against flesh, ofbones crunching and furniture breaking…it was like music, beautiful andexciting, and the sharp, acrid scent of blood mixing with the unmistakablescent of sex made me want to lie back, open my legs, and beg both men to end mysuffering.