My lip curls up into a slight snarl as I look at them. Then, my eyes flip back over to the pretty little woman. She's a tiny thing. She keeps pulling at the hem of that damn dress like she's uncomfortable in it.
The fucker is way too short for my taste. Oh, she looks beautiful in it, no doubt, but I do miss the days of old when women wore dresses that completely covered their legs. That way every man's eyes didn't get to see what belonged to one man.
Her long, dark hair is a deep chocolate brown. It's almost so dark that it looks black, but not quite. Her eyes are a beautiful sapphire blue, and those lips are like rubies.
Of course, I know that they're stained that color from the red lipstick she's undoubtedly wearing, but I can't help marveling at how beautiful the contrast is against her creamy white skin.
If I didn't know any better, I would say she's a vampiress. She certainly has that look about her, but I can smell her blood thrumming beneath her vibrantly alive skin all the way over here. Plus, I see her reflection in the mirrors Garrington has ostentatiously placed all over this fucking ballroom.
I don't know what it is about the little raven, but I can't take my eyes off her. I'm drawn inexplicably to her—so much so that were she not a human I would believe that she's my mate. I feel a pang in my chest at the thought. Very few vampires have mates, someone who’s meant to be solely theirs. I've spent centuries wandering this earth alone, hoping that maybe fate would be kind enough to give me one.
Even though I've never found my mate, I feel like I have one deep down in my soul. It's like there's another half of me that's missing.
My eyes drag down over the tiny human. Why do I feel like something is clicking into place inside me when I look at her?
But that can't be right because she's a human, and my mate has to be a vampire. I mean, that's just the way it is. Vampires don't have mates with other kinds, especially those of the living variety.
I frown as she keeps creeping closer to that group of men in the corner. The intellectual, snobbish pricks.
Does she know one of them? Is one of them someone she has a crush on?
The instant jealousy that flares within my chest at that thought surprises the hell out of me. I've never in all my centuries felt this kind of jealousy. The thought of this woman desiring another man fills me with an infernal rage unlike anything I've ever known. My nostrils flare, and I blink at the unexpected emotion.
I lift my glass of brandy up to my lips to take a thoughtful sip as I contemplate these foreign feelings.
Hey, just because we vampires mostly drink blood doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good cognac or brandy from time to time. What's more is the effects of alcohol don't affect us near as strongly. It takes me ten times as much alcohol to get as wasted as a human. And that's perfectly fine with me because while I like to enjoy a drink from time to time, I don't want to get shit-faced. Being inebriated only spells trouble. I like to keep my wits about me.
Another thing…I haven't noticed the tiny human take a drink at all, and that's probably because she looks way too young to legally drink. If I had to guess, I'd put her around eighteen. Barely legal.
I don't know how old I truly am, but my physical appearance stopped aging around the age of thirty. For centuries, I've looked like a man in his prime, and I suppose I am. Still, even physically, I look too old for such a sweet, young creature.
But fuck, everything within me is calling to her. Why is my hand closing into a fist around my glass the closer she creeps to Donovan?
I figured out who her sights are set on, and it's the nerdy-looking vampire with the smart-looking glasses and slicked-back hair. I eye him sardonically. What could she possibly see in him? He's not really what most women would call handsome. Of course, he's not hideous either. I know the fucker, though, and he doesn't have a charming bone in his body.
My eyes glance back at my little raven, the questions churning in my mind. What's her story? Who is she? What does she want with Donovan?
I hear the countdown start, and I keep my eyes trained on her little form. She looks nervous, and I see her hands shaking against her dress even from over here. I frown.
When the countdown gets down to the count of ten, I see her take in a deep breath.
She begins moving toward Donovan, and then it suddenly dawns on me what's going on here, and I don't know why, but I'm fucking furious about it.
There is no way in hell I'm going to let this pretty little angel press her lips against his.
I move without thinking.
I'm in front of her in a flash, pushing Donovan back untilI'mthe one standing right in front of her.
Her eyes are closed, the dark lashes fanning over her porcelain cheeks as she stands on her tiptoes with her lips slightly puckered.
I'm like a moth drawn to the flame because I can't stop myself.
I close the rest of the distance between us and press my lips firmly against hers.
She gasps at the sudden contact, her mouth opening the slightest bit, and I take full advantage, slipping my tongue within her sweet depths.
And holy hell.