By: Lynda Hilburn He thinks mind control is amusing? He moved effortlessly, with surreal vampire grace, stepping inside my office and closing the space between us. He sniffed the air. Such an enticing aroma. Did Nicky misbehave? Just a little messy self-soothing.
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I know. They used to be human. He leaped off the couch and paced the lush blue carpet in the space between us.
She was a nice lady. She did the best she could. I tried not to be disgusted by her. Sometimes just being with a client is the best I can do. We stood together, watching the lights of Denver glitter from our lofty vantage point. I studied his frowning reflection in the glass. Did you talk to her? I could never talk to her about those things — I could never disobey my moth — I mean, Wanda. Please stop! He stopped chewing on himself long enough to speak.
I saw this TV show about a girl who cuts herself with razor blades. She said it relieved her anxiety. I tried cutting, but the wounds healed too fast — but this works for me. Please stop. I was sure I looked shocked as I surveyed the red stains on the wall and carpet and examined my soiled trousers. I was definitely going to have to start wearing blood-repelling leather clothing. He reluctantly lowered his arm, which had already stopped bleeding. The holes disappeared as I watched.
Knowing Nicky, it could go either way. His eyes now glued to my face, his fangs fully extended, he slowly raised his arm towards his mouth again. He thrust his tongue out in quick darting movements, licking the dried blood from his arm, all the while shifting his weight from foot to foot.
He inched his arm closer to his teeth. Gee, what a surprise. See how messed up I am? You have to help me, Doctor Knight! If you keep coming to therapy, keep practising your skills, I promise things can get better. Nicky would probably figure things out eventually.
I intended to speak to Devereux, the Master of the local vampire coven and my — what? Significant other? Friend with benefits? None of those descriptions quite fit — about my conflicted client. For safety — mine — and confidentiality, I insisted that all my supernatural clients sign a Release of Information form giving me permission to consult with their leader.
You always do. Nicky was too immature to be completely trustworthy. Note to self: buy rubber sheets for the furniture. Someone powerful. So far, his threats had kept me off the menu. I turned the handle and opened the door.
Ensconced on the white couch in my waiting room sat the blond god in question, decked out in his usual body-skimming high-fashion black leathers. His thick platinum hair flowed down his well-toned chest in the most touchable, inviting manner. Blue-green gemstone eyes sparkled. A fallen angel.
He gave a devastating grin and Nicky gasped and fell to his knees, question forgotten. My heart pounded, my mouth declared a drought and my knees weakened. I blinked to clear the sudden fog and clutched the doorknob for support. My mouth fell open as a sharp pain radiated across my brow.
I stared at him, and the room temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled between my breasts. Did somebody turn up the heat in here? Am I doing something? Oh, yeah. I remember. I leaned towards Devereux and inhaled deeply.
Snap out of it, Kismet! Why does he always scramble my senses? He pressed his face against the supple leather. What an honour. The pain in my head morphed from a bonfire to a simmer.
Why am I having so many headaches lately? Maybe I should have my eyes checked. Oh, wait, no, I mean the hormone-riddled village idiot. But what am I saying? You probably like it. Why was he walking so strangely? He is too young to understand the futility of fighting a directive from one so many centuries older than himself. He will learn. He moved effortlessly, with surreal vampire grace, stepping inside my office and closing the space between us. He sniffed the air.
Such an enticing aroma. Did Nicky misbehave? Just a little messy self-soothing. My heart was slamming against my ribs like the drums of a marching band while my imagination was rolling out the red carpet. He licked along my pulsing jugular. A feeble groan escaped my lips just before he kissed me. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Without conscious thought my arms closed around his waist and my lips settled in for the duration.
For some reason, whenever Devereux touched me, nothing mattered but him. My brain pressed the pause button and all competing impulses disappeared in a haze of yearning. My bones melted along with my resistance as his spicy, intoxicating aroma overwhelmed my senses and made my head spin. We are finally together. Like a bucket of cold blood his words snapped me back to full awareness and I stiffened.
He appeared to be experiencing a different reality: to my mind, there was no finally involved. What could an ordinary Denver psychologist possibly offer to so intrigue an year-old vampire? Even my blood type was average. I have waited for you my entire life.
My heart belongs to you. The subtle pounding in my head picked up its pace. Why does your heart belong to me? Did I miss the first chapter of this book? So much for a graceful retreat!
I know. They used to be human. He leaped off the couch and paced the lush blue carpet in the space between us. She was a nice lady. She did the best she could. I tried not to be disgusted by her.
Shelves: i-have-a-copy , review-for-tour Kismet now not only believes in vampires but they have become her clients. Now that she is part of this world and her too hot of a old vampire boyfriends whom just so happens to be one of the oldest out there, Kismet live never has a dull moment. Still after her kidnaping form Lucifer , Kismet is not handling it all so well and Devereux is determined to find Lucifer and end it once and for all. But will there human, vampire relationship last? Can it last?