Second Sneak Peek from "Blood Debt" by Joy Nash
Jackson watched Leanna's throat flex. The flutter of her pulse--just there, beneath her sweet, tender skin--tormented him. Unbidden, his fangs erupted, the points scraping the inside of his mouth. Damn it all to hell. He'd fed only scant hours before, but now the burning thirst had scraped his throat raw. He was as ravenous as if he'd gone without blood for months.
He had not thirsted for a woman so fiercely in the seventy long years of his self-imposed celibacy.
It would be so easy to drink from her. To nip the rapid pulses at her neck, her wrist, her groin. She would taste like sunshine. And Jackson had been living in darkness for so very long.
Could he allow himself the indulgence? One small sip? Taking Leanna's blood wouldn't dim his own power. Just the opposite--her Sidhe blood, so potent with life essence, would strengthen him. The danger lay in the near-certainty that the bite would lead to more. To physical carnality. Plunging into Leanna's ripe body, breaking his long-held vows, would drain his power. And if she managed to unleash her muse magic on him as well...
She could destroy him.
He was heavy with need, the blood pulsing slow and hard in his loins. Leanna rubbed her bare arms, causing the knit fabric of her dress to stretch across her breasts. His eyes followed the movement. His groin tightened. It was too arousing, having her here in his lair. In his bed. He could not let himself forget how very dangerous she was.
She was afraid of him. He had made her so. Part of him--the part that clung to his humanity--hated that fear. The man he'd once been would never have tormented a woman this way. Especially this woman. Once, he'd wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and protect her from the sadness that only he seemed to see in her eyes. Perhaps it had been an illusion, after all. Perhaps he'd only dreamed of her vulnerability. But no. When he looked at her now, he saw that the sadness still remained a part of her. He still wanted to banish it.
He was a fool.
He dared not do so much as lay a finger on her. Because even after all the time that had passed, even after what her betrayal had cost him, he still burned for her. If he touched her, it would not stop at that. Decades of waiting, of plotting his vengeance on Legrand, would go up in flames.
With a power born of long, agonizing practice, he battered his sexual hunger into submission. Only when he'd brought his appetite under some semblance of control did he allow himself to look at her.
Her eyes were wide, gray, and utterly horrified.
END OF SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT.
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