Read Online Let the Night Begin by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Smith
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rough stubble of his throat. The young man moaned encouragingly when she touched his warm flesh with her tongue. Hunger and instinct rose to the surface. Her fangs lengthened as saliva filled her mouth and her tongue tingled with anticipation.
His arms went around her, tightening when her teeth pierced his neck. He was hard and young and warm against her, and she felt every pulse of his body reverberate in her own. He tasted of youth and whiskey and she drank deep, taking him into her, letting him fill her with all the sweetness flooding his veins.
Olivia closed her eyes as she fed, and glad that he was a stranger, pretended that he was someone else.
Pretended he was Reign.
Â
Reign was by nature, a suspicious man. That suspicion was what made him write and leave a note for Saint. Last evening he gave it to a fence with whom the other vampire did business. Ezekiel would know where Saint was long before Reign ever did. They didnât communicate very oftenânot because they didnât want to, but because after six centuries of friendship, they didnât need to.
There was a sum of money tucked in the folded noteâpayment for a wager he and Saint made a long time ago. Saint had wagered that Oliviawould someday return, a notion Reign had declared utter shite. They had shaken hands, and Reign assumed theyâd continue on their path toward eternity with neither of them ever becoming any richer.
Saint would have a laugh at his expense, of that there could be no doubt, but at least he would have an idea of whom to expect an explanation from if Reign failed to return from Scotland.
Did he honestly believe Olivia could kill him? The question voiced itself in his mind as he strode across the polished stone floor of his foyer, the tapping of his boot heels keeping time with the rattle of carriage wheels outside. He had finished the last of his arrangements and now all he had to do was await Oliviaâs arrival.
The answer was no. He didnât believe Olivia could kill him herself . If she hadnât done it thirty years ago, she couldnât do it now. But he had no such certainty when it came to allowing him to be killed by someone else. He didnât want to think her capable, but he had hurt her in the worst way, and it was possible that she truly hated him enough to hand-feed him to the lions.
All the more reason to keep a close eye on her and use whatever weapons at his disposal to uncover her secrets. After what he had done, he owed her his help in finding her nephew, but trust? No, he didnât owe her that at all. He wouldnât give her that until she earned it.
The fact that she had agreed to sleep with him proved that she wasnât to be trusted. No woman would give herself to a man she claimed to despise unless the end result was worth it. How in the name of holy hell would having sex with him help her get her nephew back?
Unless, of course, she was hoping to lull him into submission with her feminine wiles.
Feminine wiles . Did people use phrases like that anymore? Sometimes it was so hard to keep up with the ever changing English language.
And if that were true, why had she refused to go out with him the night before when he called on her? The thought of feeding seemed to bother her, or perhaps it was the thought of having him with her that made her so pale. He didnât understand it. It wasnât as though he had offered her his bloodâthat was far more intimate than sex and he knew sheâd never agree to that.
Unless of course, it suited her schemes.
Regardless, trying to figure Olivia out was pointless until he knew more about what she had been up to the last thirty years. Heâd tried in the beginning to keep tabs on her, but she kept sending his investigators back to him with broken bones. Finally, his prideâand pity for the poor investigatorsâforced him to give up.
âWhat have you found out?â he demanded as he swept open the door to his
His arms went around her, tightening when her teeth pierced his neck. He was hard and young and warm against her, and she felt every pulse of his body reverberate in her own. He tasted of youth and whiskey and she drank deep, taking him into her, letting him fill her with all the sweetness flooding his veins.
Olivia closed her eyes as she fed, and glad that he was a stranger, pretended that he was someone else.
Pretended he was Reign.
Â
Reign was by nature, a suspicious man. That suspicion was what made him write and leave a note for Saint. Last evening he gave it to a fence with whom the other vampire did business. Ezekiel would know where Saint was long before Reign ever did. They didnât communicate very oftenânot because they didnât want to, but because after six centuries of friendship, they didnât need to.
There was a sum of money tucked in the folded noteâpayment for a wager he and Saint made a long time ago. Saint had wagered that Oliviawould someday return, a notion Reign had declared utter shite. They had shaken hands, and Reign assumed theyâd continue on their path toward eternity with neither of them ever becoming any richer.
Saint would have a laugh at his expense, of that there could be no doubt, but at least he would have an idea of whom to expect an explanation from if Reign failed to return from Scotland.
Did he honestly believe Olivia could kill him? The question voiced itself in his mind as he strode across the polished stone floor of his foyer, the tapping of his boot heels keeping time with the rattle of carriage wheels outside. He had finished the last of his arrangements and now all he had to do was await Oliviaâs arrival.
The answer was no. He didnât believe Olivia could kill him herself . If she hadnât done it thirty years ago, she couldnât do it now. But he had no such certainty when it came to allowing him to be killed by someone else. He didnât want to think her capable, but he had hurt her in the worst way, and it was possible that she truly hated him enough to hand-feed him to the lions.
All the more reason to keep a close eye on her and use whatever weapons at his disposal to uncover her secrets. After what he had done, he owed her his help in finding her nephew, but trust? No, he didnât owe her that at all. He wouldnât give her that until she earned it.
The fact that she had agreed to sleep with him proved that she wasnât to be trusted. No woman would give herself to a man she claimed to despise unless the end result was worth it. How in the name of holy hell would having sex with him help her get her nephew back?
Unless, of course, she was hoping to lull him into submission with her feminine wiles.
Feminine wiles . Did people use phrases like that anymore? Sometimes it was so hard to keep up with the ever changing English language.
And if that were true, why had she refused to go out with him the night before when he called on her? The thought of feeding seemed to bother her, or perhaps it was the thought of having him with her that made her so pale. He didnât understand it. It wasnât as though he had offered her his bloodâthat was far more intimate than sex and he knew sheâd never agree to that.
Unless of course, it suited her schemes.
Regardless, trying to figure Olivia out was pointless until he knew more about what she had been up to the last thirty years. Heâd tried in the beginning to keep tabs on her, but she kept sending his investigators back to him with broken bones. Finally, his prideâand pity for the poor investigatorsâforced him to give up.
âWhat have you found out?â he demanded as he swept open the door to his
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