her brows, suspecting he just wanted to get her to leave so that he didn’t have to deal with her. And considering this was her home, and her life, she wasn’t about to let him run her off.
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone grim. “I’m deadly serious, Hope.”
“Well, that’s too bad then. Because I’m not leaving.”
R ILEY WANTED TO ARGUE with the hardheaded woman, but choked back the sharp words burning in his throat, knowing she was determined to fight him, pushing against him out of anger and bitter resentment. Not that he blamed her. If she’d dumped him the way he’d done to her, he would have still been hurling nasty insults in her face. Instead, she stood there with her head held high, the epitome of cool, calm composure. It made him crazy just to stand there, so close to her. He wanted to map out those lush, womanly curves with his hands. Taste the pansy-soft texture of her mouth. The soft inner curve of that voluptuous lower lip that could have driven a saint to sin. And despite his annoying nickname, he wasn’t feeling at all saintly at that particular moment in time.
No, there was something about the way the ethereal streams of moonlight were hitting the smooth, vulnerable stretch of her throat that pushed him into a dark, dangerous place. Made the night feel too close, as if the heavy weight of the darkness was pressing in on him with crushing force, his temperature rising from the strain of holding himself together, until a fine sheen of sweat covered his body. Memories of the girl she’d been had always tempted him in ways that no other woman ever had. But seeing her all grown up damn nearkilled him with need. There was a fertile, succulent facet to her scent that cranked his need up to the point where he worried he’d do something stupid. A stinging heaviness in his gums that signaled the release of the Merrick’s fangs. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, they were going to descend, eager for the chance to sink into that pale, tender flesh. To take her blood into his mouth, hot and sweet against his tongue, feeding the primal darkness within him.
And no doubt scare her to death in the process.
And while the hunger for blood was most definitely the Merrick’s doing, Riley knew he had to take responsibility for the violence of his desire. Though his Merrick blood was only just awakening, his physical appetites had always been dark…aggressive. It was just a part of who he was, and he’d always chosen women who could handle it. Handle him. Strong, independent, career-minded women, who had no desire for a relationship, but still needed a sexual outlet from time to time.
Not that he slept with women indiscriminately, or ones he didn’t like. He just chose partners who were safe. Who could match his sexual appetites, and enjoy sex for what it was, without involving complicated emotions in the mix. Simple, clear-cut, mutual exchanges of pleasure. That was all he’d ever had—all he’d ever been able to find.
Until now. Already, the cutting edge of desire that Hope brought him to was screwing with his head. They didn’t have an emotional attachment. The rational partof his mind knew that. Accepted it. But he also knew that sex with her would be unlike anything he’d ever known, pushing him to levels of need that he’d never come close to experiencing. He’d always suspected that would be the case, but the reality of facing her again after all these years was so much more than he’d been prepared for.
His fictional idea of the person she would become had been based on the girl he’d known, but the woman standing before him now was a stranger. She was all grown up, the product of years that had had nothing to do with him. Unknown experiences that had shaped her personality, like powerful forces of nature upon the planet. Rushing waters that cut through the ground, digging deep, shifting and shaping and molding the earth into something new. It should have made it easier, but
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone grim. “I’m deadly serious, Hope.”
“Well, that’s too bad then. Because I’m not leaving.”
R ILEY WANTED TO ARGUE with the hardheaded woman, but choked back the sharp words burning in his throat, knowing she was determined to fight him, pushing against him out of anger and bitter resentment. Not that he blamed her. If she’d dumped him the way he’d done to her, he would have still been hurling nasty insults in her face. Instead, she stood there with her head held high, the epitome of cool, calm composure. It made him crazy just to stand there, so close to her. He wanted to map out those lush, womanly curves with his hands. Taste the pansy-soft texture of her mouth. The soft inner curve of that voluptuous lower lip that could have driven a saint to sin. And despite his annoying nickname, he wasn’t feeling at all saintly at that particular moment in time.
No, there was something about the way the ethereal streams of moonlight were hitting the smooth, vulnerable stretch of her throat that pushed him into a dark, dangerous place. Made the night feel too close, as if the heavy weight of the darkness was pressing in on him with crushing force, his temperature rising from the strain of holding himself together, until a fine sheen of sweat covered his body. Memories of the girl she’d been had always tempted him in ways that no other woman ever had. But seeing her all grown up damn nearkilled him with need. There was a fertile, succulent facet to her scent that cranked his need up to the point where he worried he’d do something stupid. A stinging heaviness in his gums that signaled the release of the Merrick’s fangs. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, they were going to descend, eager for the chance to sink into that pale, tender flesh. To take her blood into his mouth, hot and sweet against his tongue, feeding the primal darkness within him.
And no doubt scare her to death in the process.
And while the hunger for blood was most definitely the Merrick’s doing, Riley knew he had to take responsibility for the violence of his desire. Though his Merrick blood was only just awakening, his physical appetites had always been dark…aggressive. It was just a part of who he was, and he’d always chosen women who could handle it. Handle him. Strong, independent, career-minded women, who had no desire for a relationship, but still needed a sexual outlet from time to time.
Not that he slept with women indiscriminately, or ones he didn’t like. He just chose partners who were safe. Who could match his sexual appetites, and enjoy sex for what it was, without involving complicated emotions in the mix. Simple, clear-cut, mutual exchanges of pleasure. That was all he’d ever had—all he’d ever been able to find.
Until now. Already, the cutting edge of desire that Hope brought him to was screwing with his head. They didn’t have an emotional attachment. The rational partof his mind knew that. Accepted it. But he also knew that sex with her would be unlike anything he’d ever known, pushing him to levels of need that he’d never come close to experiencing. He’d always suspected that would be the case, but the reality of facing her again after all these years was so much more than he’d been prepared for.
His fictional idea of the person she would become had been based on the girl he’d known, but the woman standing before him now was a stranger. She was all grown up, the product of years that had had nothing to do with him. Unknown experiences that had shaped her personality, like powerful forces of nature upon the planet. Rushing waters that cut through the ground, digging deep, shifting and shaping and molding the earth into something new. It should have made it easier, but
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