Avery Hill reluctantly writes about alien abductions and bat-headed babies while she searches for her mother who went missing one Christmas Eve long ago. Now Avery finds herself in Las Vegas for the holiday, caught in a battle between light and dark fey armies.
Only Huge de Grava, a 700-year-old, soul-wounded warrior cursed with eternal life, can save her—before his own time runs out.
But the dangerous magic that made her fear for her sanity and made him a vampire isn’t done with them yet, and long-lost worlds are on a collision course on the deepest night of the year…
Excerpt from BLOOD DEEP: Vegas Vampires Book 1
“You say human as if you aren’t.”
That brought his attention back to her, but the grim set of his expression remained. “I am not. Not anymore.” He raised her hand to his lips. “You asked, so let me show you.”
“Wait.” She strained away, but his iron-hard muscles didn’t so much as twitch, restraining her with ease. “Never mind. I believe you. Just… let me go.”
His breath feathered over her rampaging pulse. “Believing out of fear rather than discovering the truth for yourself? What kind of reporter are you?”
“The kind that writes made-up stories.” Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. But she wasn’t sure if it was fear… or anticipation.
“Anticipation,” he murmured.
She choked. “Are you reading my mind?”
“No, I’m reading your blood. Your energy flows through your body, through your sweat, your tears, your cum. The mélange I took from your earlier is still in me, and I know you. At least until it fades.”
“Then let it fade. Because this… no. No.”
He waited, poised over her wrist, staring at her through a lock of black hair that had fallen across his obsidian eyes. “Is that what you want? For me to fade?”
She opened her mouth to say exactly that.
But nothing came out.
So he angled his mouth over her wrist. And bit.
She sucked in a shocked breath. Not at the pain—it wasn’t much worse than a paper cut or a hypodermic injection, and she’d had plenty of those over the years—but at the bloom of sensation inside her. The naughty thrill she’d indulged earlier, the instinctive fear when she’d realized she couldn’t escape him, the burgeoning awe that he might be what he claimed to be… It all roiled together like an exotic layered cocktail flowing toward someone’s mouth.
She focused on his mouth over her wrist. His thin, shapely lips were fastened like he was giving her a hickey, but she felt the pull all the way to her pussy. Her breast, where he’d bitten her before, ached to be touched, and she clamped her hand over the throbbing. Her nipple was peaked through her bra and blouse, stabbing the center of her palm.
She let out a soft moan, and after one last lingering swipe of his tongue, he lifted his head. Two tiny puncture wounds dotted the dark, raised vein in her wrist.
“Think of a number,” he said. “Any number.”
“What?” Her mind was still reeling.
She gasped. “You pervert.”
“You thought it.”
She had, though not quite in the mathematical sense. “Lucky guess. What number am I thinking now?”
This wasn’t possible. How could she believe him? Her mind was whirling faster than any roulette wheel. She tried to cover her uncertainty with a wide-eyed smirk. “Oh my God. We could totally cheat at cards.”
It sounded rusty, as if he’d forgotten how, but she was too focused on his mouth to give that her full consideration. His white teeth glistened in the neon lights sneaking through the curtain beads.
No, not just teeth. Fangs. The two points were touched with blood. Her blood.