Excerpt from "Demon's Hunger" by Eve Silver

“This is not a good idea,” Dain rasped, but still, he held her close, the faintly citrus scent of his skin beguiling her, making her want to lean close and breathe him in until she was filled.

Deliberately, Vivien shifted her hips against his.

Catching her wrists, he dragged her hands up above her head, pinned her with the weight of his body against the frigid brick wall. He was wire-tight, in-control, and she wanted to break down that wall, free the power she felt pulsing just beneath the surface.

He looked down at her, unblinking, his features hard and beautiful, shadowed by the night.

“Please,” she whispered.

Myriad emotions chased across his features. Speculation. Bewilderment. Wariness. Lust.

He still held her wrists in his grasp, and she liked that, liked the feeling of him holding her, while at the same time she ached to drag her hands free, to shove them under his shirt, touch the heat of his skin.

Letting his weight come full against her, he moved his free hand to her nape, tipping her face to his, her mouth to his, and he kissed her. Rough. Urgent. His lips hard on her own.

She moaned, heat scorching through her, a fever, a blazing desert sun. There was no cold brick wall, no bitter wind, only Dain, the heat of him, the press of his body, a delicious, heavy weight.

Hard, demanding, his mouth moved on hers, his tongue tasting her, licking her lips, her teeth, twining with her own tongue until she thought of nothing but the lush taste of him.

The scrape of his teeth over her lower lip made her moan. Luscious, urgent pleasure. She’d never felt this way. Never wanted anything, anyone, the way she wanted Dain Hawkins, like she had a killing thirst that only he could slake.

She loved the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the crushing sensation of his body pressed to hers.

Yanking her hands free of his grasp, she shoved them under his shirt, drew her nails along his skin. Hot. Smooth. The ridges of his abdomen—layers of lean muscle—twitched at her touch, his response making the burning current of her desire coil through her veins, setting her on fire.

She tore her mouth from his, licked the base of his throat, tasted a faint hint of salt. With a sultry laugh, she closed her teeth on skin and muscle, and was rewarded by a hiss of pleasure.

Longing twisted in her gut, so keen, so deep.

He groaned, slid his hands down her back to her buttocks, dragged her tighter against him, dragged his teeth along her neck. Then he took her mouth with his, claiming her, wet and rough.

Aggressive.

She hadn’t known she would like that. But she did. Oh, God, she did.