Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

Our breathing was labored, our limbs trembling as we slowly came down together. All without our skin touching. But, as I struggled to regain rational thought, I knew that I wanted more.

More of him. More of this.

No. More than this.

I wanted to touch his skin. Desperately so.

The ache increased the longer we stayed pressed together, and I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted one touch. One little press of my skin to his. So my hand slid over his ribcage. Up his spine and shoulder blade. Until my fingers were inches away. Inches from pulling down his shirt and touching his—

In a frenzy of movement, he caught my wrist and spun me around, locking both arms to my chest. “Witch,” he hissed, tightening his hold. “Always preying on my weaknesses. Always waiting until my guard is down. Always using me—”

“Lochlan,” I frantically squeaked when his grip became painful. “I-I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it. Please. Please don’t hurt me.”

He froze. Then released me in a rush.

When I turned, he was gone.

20

The sun drifted below the treeline and I shivered, rubbing my arms. Abandoning the view for the toasty indoors, I headed back inside the cabin and closed the door. Even with the lingering werewolf symptoms and addition of sweatpants, my skin still felt chilled after what had happened.

Three hours had passed since the “kitchen table mistake” as I was now calling our latest encounter. After his outburst, Lochlan had made himself scarce, leaving me shaken over his words—and the highly intimate moment we’d shared.

We had both obviously lost our minds. At least I could blame my horniness on being in heat, but what was his excuse? He had attacked me with his groin and then called me a witch, for fate’s sake. I should be livid. I was livid—but confused too. And hurt that he treated me so harshly after we’d experienced something so . . .

Perfect.

I snorted at my own idiocy, shaking my head. That experience had been far from perfect. First, he’d used thrall on me, then lulled me into complacency with a mind-blowing orgasm. Lochlan D’angelo was controlling and manipulative, a bad boy through-and-through. I had never thought myself capable of helplessly falling for the dark and mysterious brooder type. I thought I was smarter than that. But, despite the clear danger, I could no longer deny my intense attraction for the vampire.

When another hour slowly ticked by and he still hadn’t returned, I started to pace. Restless energy itched beneath my skin. Needs built that weren’t my own. I stopped in the kitchen to guzzle some water and froze at the sight of the table. Jagged lines marred the light oak surface, marks that hadn’t been there before. As I inched closer to inspect them, though, I remembered a sound I’d heard, right before Lochlan had fallen over the edge with me.

My throat constricted and I stumbled back.

Those were claw marks. From his claws.

My body responded by pulsing heat through me in waves. The force was so sudden that I dropped my cup and doubled over in pain. Glass shattered against the slate-colored tiles. I bent too far and sprawled onto the floor, landing on the shards.

“Fates,” I hissed as glass split open my right palm. Blood immediately seeped over the tiles, and I fisted my hand to stem the flow.

The cabin’s front door crashed open, startling me. I almost cut myself again as I scrambled to face the oncoming threat, my hackles raising—if I had hackles. You aren’t a werewolf, Kenna. Get a grip! A growl slipped from my throat anyway when a towering dark form appeared in the kitchen doorway a second later.

I knew by the shadows surrounding him that it was Lochlan. Still, I hid my injury, my weakness, as his sharp red gaze took in the mess. Something felt different about him, something that put me on edge. His shadows swirled as if agitated, and with my heightened senses, I could smell him.

Underneath the amber, sandalwood, and musk was another scent, one more potent and undeniably him. The moment I breathed it in, my body responded. Heat doused me, my underwear dampening with arousal. I squeezed my thighs together and gritted my teeth against the pleasure-pain.

“McKenna,” Lochlan said roughly, still framing the doorway. He didn’t even have to say it. I knew what he meant, what he was offering.

Panicking, I shook my head. “No. I don’t want you to touch me like that again.” As if in complaint, my core throbbed in agony. A whine slipped past my throat that sounded way too much like a wolf’s. I tightly fisted my injured hand, adding, “Not even if I beg.”

And I would. Because I did want his touch. So badly that it hurt.

“Please,” I said desperately, when all he did was stare. “Please promise me.”

Instead of answering, he entered the kitchen. My entire body tensed, but he bypassed me, pulling open a drawer. He lifted out a towel and ripped it clean in half. Dampening one strip from the kitchen sink, he returned to crouch in front of me. His scent immediately invaded my senses, nearly choking me. I cringed back, seeking escape as unmet need splintered through me.

Before I could, his gloved hand shot out and captured my right wrist. I curled my upper lip back in a silent warning. He only tugged me closer. Brushing a thumb over my clenched fist, he asked me to open for him. I resisted, knowing he just wanted to help, but having him near made me want him even more.

Maybe I didn’t really want him though. Maybe I only temporarily did, a byproduct of this screwed-up werewolf situation. Either way, my body shook as I continued to deny it.

But I wasn’t the only one shaking. Lochlan’s fingers trembled almost violently when he slowly peeled back my fingers to reveal the cut.

“Are