Read Online DANCE WITH THE DEVIL by Sherrilyn Keynon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherrilyn Keynon
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broke her mental connection with Sasha. Walking always did. She could only use his sight whenever she was perfectly still.
Zarek looked up as he felt the air behind him stir.
He paused as his gaze fell to Astrid and she took his breath away. Unused to having people in a house with him, he wasn't sure if he should greet her or remain silent.
He opted to just watch her.
She was so feminine and beautiful. Kind of like
Sharon, only there was a sense of vulnerability about her that
Sharon lacked.
Sharon possessed a smart mouth that could rival his own and her years as a single parent had left her with a very hard edge to her. But not Astrid. She had that gentle kind of softness that would cause some people to take advantage or victimize her.
The thought sent an unexpected jolt of anger through him.
Astrid moved forward into the room and was headed straight for the ottoman he'd moved out of his way earlier.
His first thought was to leave it and let her fall, but he barely moved it out of her way in time. She missed the ottoman, but did, however, stumble into him, causing the knife to slip.
Zarek hissed as the extremely sharp blade cut deeply into his hand.
"Zarek?"
He ignored her as he rushed into the kitchen to tend the throbbing wound before he dripped blood all over her polished hardwood floors and expensive rugs.
Cursing, he dropped the knife into the sink and turned the water on to rinse it.
She followed him into the kitchen. "Zarek? Is something wrong?"
"No," he snapped, washing the blood from his hand. He grimaced as he saw the depth of the injury. If he were human, he'd need stitches for it.
Astrid moved to stand beside him. "I smell blood. Are you hurt?"
Before he realized what she intended, she took his hand into hers and felt it with her hands. Her touch was feather light as she gently touched his wound and yet the sensation of her hand on his floored him. It felt as if someone had hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer.
She was so close to him that all he had to do was lean forward and he could kiss her.
Taste her neck.
Her blood…
No woman had ever tempted him like this.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to taste someone's lips. To hold her face in his hands and ravish her mouth with his tongue.
What would it feel like to be held… ?
What the hell is wrong with me?
He wasn't the kind of man that anyone held, nor did he want it.
Not really.
He only wanted…
"This is deep," she said quietly, her voice enchanting him even more.
He looked down, but instead of his hand, all he could see was the deep valley between her breasts that was bared by the V of her sweater. He would only have to move his hand a few inches to sink it down between the soft mounds. To push her sweater aside a little bit until he could cup her with his hand.
"What happened?" she asked.
Zarek blinked to dispel the image that caused his groin to ache and throb as it demanded satisfaction. "Nothing."
"Is that the only word you know?" She grimaced at him as she held his hand with hers and reached up to pull a bottle of peroxide out of the cabinet over the sink. He was amazed that she knew which container it was, but then, everything in the cabinet appeared to be deliberately and carefully placed.
He hissed again as she poured the liquid over his cut. The coldness of it stung as much as the disinfectant.
Still, he was stunned by her caring actions, by the gentleness of her hand on his.
She patted around with her hand for the dish towel by the sink. Once she found it, she wrapped it around his hand. "Keep it elevated. I'll call a doc—"
"No," he said harshly, interrupting her. "No doctor."
"But you're hurt."
"Believe me, this is nothing."
Astrid noted the catch in his voice as he said that. More than ever before, she wished she could see him as he spoke. "Were you cut because I bumped into you?"
He didn't answer.
Astrid tried to reach out to him with her senses and found nothing. She couldn't tell if he was
Zarek looked up as he felt the air behind him stir.
He paused as his gaze fell to Astrid and she took his breath away. Unused to having people in a house with him, he wasn't sure if he should greet her or remain silent.
He opted to just watch her.
She was so feminine and beautiful. Kind of like
Sharon, only there was a sense of vulnerability about her that
Sharon lacked.
Sharon possessed a smart mouth that could rival his own and her years as a single parent had left her with a very hard edge to her. But not Astrid. She had that gentle kind of softness that would cause some people to take advantage or victimize her.
The thought sent an unexpected jolt of anger through him.
Astrid moved forward into the room and was headed straight for the ottoman he'd moved out of his way earlier.
His first thought was to leave it and let her fall, but he barely moved it out of her way in time. She missed the ottoman, but did, however, stumble into him, causing the knife to slip.
Zarek hissed as the extremely sharp blade cut deeply into his hand.
"Zarek?"
He ignored her as he rushed into the kitchen to tend the throbbing wound before he dripped blood all over her polished hardwood floors and expensive rugs.
Cursing, he dropped the knife into the sink and turned the water on to rinse it.
She followed him into the kitchen. "Zarek? Is something wrong?"
"No," he snapped, washing the blood from his hand. He grimaced as he saw the depth of the injury. If he were human, he'd need stitches for it.
Astrid moved to stand beside him. "I smell blood. Are you hurt?"
Before he realized what she intended, she took his hand into hers and felt it with her hands. Her touch was feather light as she gently touched his wound and yet the sensation of her hand on his floored him. It felt as if someone had hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer.
She was so close to him that all he had to do was lean forward and he could kiss her.
Taste her neck.
Her blood…
No woman had ever tempted him like this.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to taste someone's lips. To hold her face in his hands and ravish her mouth with his tongue.
What would it feel like to be held… ?
What the hell is wrong with me?
He wasn't the kind of man that anyone held, nor did he want it.
Not really.
He only wanted…
"This is deep," she said quietly, her voice enchanting him even more.
He looked down, but instead of his hand, all he could see was the deep valley between her breasts that was bared by the V of her sweater. He would only have to move his hand a few inches to sink it down between the soft mounds. To push her sweater aside a little bit until he could cup her with his hand.
"What happened?" she asked.
Zarek blinked to dispel the image that caused his groin to ache and throb as it demanded satisfaction. "Nothing."
"Is that the only word you know?" She grimaced at him as she held his hand with hers and reached up to pull a bottle of peroxide out of the cabinet over the sink. He was amazed that she knew which container it was, but then, everything in the cabinet appeared to be deliberately and carefully placed.
He hissed again as she poured the liquid over his cut. The coldness of it stung as much as the disinfectant.
Still, he was stunned by her caring actions, by the gentleness of her hand on his.
She patted around with her hand for the dish towel by the sink. Once she found it, she wrapped it around his hand. "Keep it elevated. I'll call a doc—"
"No," he said harshly, interrupting her. "No doctor."
"But you're hurt."
"Believe me, this is nothing."
Astrid noted the catch in his voice as he said that. More than ever before, she wished she could see him as he spoke. "Were you cut because I bumped into you?"
He didn't answer.
Astrid tried to reach out to him with her senses and found nothing. She couldn't tell if he was
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