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

too. My eyes shot up to Lochlan’s. His gaze was hooded as he walked backward toward the kitchen, his movements completely at ease now.

“Let’s get you something to eat, solemae.” A startled look suddenly passed over his face and he stumbled back a step. I raised an eyebrow at his blunder, the first I’d ever seen him make. I’d never seen him look startled either. Before I could question him though, he slipped into the kitchen.

Weird. And what had he said? Sow-luh-may? Was that vampire lingo for Syphon?

Shrugging, I took a moment to smooth my hair and straighten my clothes, suddenly self-conscious of my appearance. I’d definitely lost weight—my stonewashed jeans hung low on my hip bones—but the miraculous return of my appetite soon overroad my bout of nerves.

I entered the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of the clean floor. I stared at the spot where Lochlan had tasted a drop of my blood, where he helped stop me from turning into a werewolf. Heat immediately rushed to my face. The scarred tabletop caught my eye next, where Lochlan and I had . . . where we had . . .

My face flushed scarlet.

Fates, there were too many memories of us in this room. They practically saturated the air.

Lochlan closed the fridge and turned toward me with a container in each hand, reminding me of our heated standoff over food. He paused to assess my face and stiff posture, his own expression clear once again. “What are you thinking right now?”

My eyes widened. “Uh, nothing.” I cleared my throat and motioned at the containers. “What’s in there?”

His knowing look further warmed my overheated body. Flustered, I searched for a safe place to rest my gaze. The kitchen counter. That was relatively safe. We hadn’t made any memories on it. I hurried over and hopped on top instead of sitting at the table where I’d have to stare at his claw marks.

He didn’t say anything, but I could have sworn he huffed a laugh. I expected him to carry the food to the table, so when he headed my way and placed the containers beside me, I struggled not to fidget. His nearness made me highly aware of everything he did.

First, he removed his gloves. Slowly. Fates alive, I didn’t realize that watching someone peel leather off their fingers could turn me on, but now I did. After that torture, he removed the container lids. Slowly. Gripping the counter’s edge, I peered inside and pretended interest in the contents when I couldn’t even focus on what it was.

Lochlan grunted in disgust, muttering something about blasted cheesecake. “This is all yours,” he said, and reached across my legs to pull open the cutlery drawer—slowly. Fates! He grabbed a fork and slid the drawer shut, taking his time, of course. But he wasn’t done yet. No, he was just getting started with this new level of pain I’d never experienced before.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, stepping into me before I could hop down. I sucked in a breath as he leaned over to open a cupboard, then positioned himself between my legs. Clinking sounds came from the cabinet while he no doubt searched for a plate, but all I could concentrate on was the way his hips gradually pressed against my inner thighs, spreading them apart.

My eyes drifted shut and I fought back an embarrassing groan as my core lit on fire. It was as if the orgasm from minutes before had never happened. My body was primed and ready to receive another one.

“The universe has a cruel sense of humor,” he said, his warm breath teasing my hair.

“Hmm?” I muttered as my poor brain fogged. When I felt him wrap a strand of my hair around his finger, I tensed and popped my eyes back open.

His face was inches from mine, his gaze fixed on my mouth. He looked . . . starved. My nervous energy returned tenfold and I made the mistake of wetting my lips. He greedily tracked the movement, following the darting motion of my tongue. The flecks of red in his black eyes brightened, a feral gleam entering their depths.

When his head lowered an inch, my heart banged against my chest, both desire and uncertainty filling me. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he wanted. Fates, I desperately wanted it too. But even one little kiss could end in disaster. Not only that, but the feral look suggested another need, one far more deadly.

He was hungry for blood.

My heart continued to thunder, a fact he didn’t miss. His gaze slid over my jaw and neck, fixing on my pulsing artery. I struggled to breathe, to think rationally. One half of me wanted to push him away, but the other half wanted to know what it felt like to have his fangs plunge into me. To have him ravenously drink from my vein.

A thrill surged through my body, powerful and dangerous. I swallowed hard, biting back a whimper when his gaze ate up the movement. “You . . . you should feed,” I whispered, then gasped at his growled reply. Oh fates. “I-I mean, from wherever you usually do it. Not me.”

The sound of ceramic breaking startled me and I jerked, bumping my head on a cabinet. Lochlan responded to my unintentional retreat by gripping my hair, forcing my neck to arch back. I stopped breathing when he growled again as if demanding I hold still—as if I were his prey.

“Lochlan, don’t,” I said softly, trying not to make any sudden moves. “You’ll get hurt.”

His grip tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut, dreading and anticipating what would happen next.

“Push me away,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Now, before I lose control.”

Was he serious? Did he really think I was strong enough to—

“Please, McKenna.”

Shocked by his plea, I reached up and shoved his chest. He might as well be a brick wall, yet he surrendered a few inches, his hold on my hair loosening. I pushed again and