Read Online Scorched by Sharon Ashwood - Free Book Online Page A

very Undead existence, she didn’t mind the grabbing.
    This Conall Macmillan was devouring her, his hands roving down her back with a strength that hurt her stillhealing ribs. She didn’t care about the pain. In all her days, no one had kissed her like this—all male and rising to the call of her feminine charms.
    His fingers brushed her breasts. Such big hands, and yet he was so gentle.
    You’re not here for pleasure. You’re here to hunt. To become a true, powerful vampire.
    He fit her idea of a proper man—tall, strong, and square-jawed. His dark eyes were direct, his thick brown hair just long enough to curl. She liked the mischief that lurked around his mouth, showing itself in a darting grin. Constance bet many a girl had made herself a fool over this fellow.
    She would do no such thing. She would be sober and serious. All she had to do was bite him. The instinct was in her, made part of her when she was Turned.
    At that thought, her fangs felt enormous, lethal and sharp. She tried to focus on that, instead of her aching breasts, the burn between her thighs. Sober and serious , she reminded herself. Dour as a bloody nun. Just bite him .
    He cupped her backside, squeezing. A little mewing noise escaped her.
    All right, if she had to sink her teeth into him, there was no reason not to enjoy the experience. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she had to. He seemed, well, nice. Warm. Hard in all the right places. His skin tasted hot and smoky, like an exotic spice. Most of all, she approved of his enthusiasm.
    Get on with it, Constance! You can’t afford to stall .
    She felt his lips part from hers, cool air replacing the heat of his mouth. All her senses reached for him, clinging to his hard, male warmth. She let her eyes open a slit, just enough to make out his silhouette.
    On second thought, he doesn’t smell right . It had been a long time since she’d encountered a human, but there was something decidedly off.
    Bite him! If he’s not human, he’s close enough. Bite him! Bite him for Sylvius .
    Her head spun. She tried to focus on the hammering beat of his heart. It echoed along her every nerve. Delicious . She was ready. I’m sorry, Conall Macmillan, but I need to do this for my boy .
    She moved in for the strike.
     
    “Whoa, sweetheart,” Mac said as Constance leaned into him again. “I never open a vein on the first date.”
    She reached up, stroking his cheek with dainty, cold fingers. “But I have to . . .”
    He flinched and pushed her back, staying gentle but firm. “That’s what they all say. Y’know, I’m sure there’s a support group for this sorta thing.”
    She pushed his hand aside as if he were no stronger than a kitten. “I need help.”
    “You have no idea.”
    “I need your blood.” She was closing in again.
    “Uh-huh, and I need a key out of this cozy piece of hell.”
    Less gently now, Mac shoved her out of his personal space. He had the sword in his hand, but he couldn’t see himself using it. Constance was dangerous, but didn’t exactly radiate evil—just desperation. That was odd, he thought. In the Castle, there was no reason she should be hungry. She closed the gap again, her eyes glinting in the uncertain light. “Forget leaving. I don’t have a key.”
    “Then who does?” Mac felt the hair on his neck lifting. The animal part of him was fast heading into the fight or flight zone. She was spooking him far worse than either Caravelli or the hellhounds. No one that soft and pretty should have such a predatory look in her eyes.
    She shrugged. “Right now? I don’t know. No one ever admits it if they do. Not if they want to keep it for their own.”
    Mac backed away. “If you don’t have a key and can’t tell me how to get one, then I’m outta here.”
    “You can’t go. We’re not done.”
    She reached for him, but he dodged her fingers. A shevamp’s nails sliced as sharp as talons. Years in the supernatural crimes unit taught him that lesson fast,