dmitri

Dmitri clearly gives good . . . blood.

Flirt with him if you want, Honor, but you're mine.

You refused to fall in love with anyone else, Dmitri._ A whisper with the impact of a gun-shot. __o I had to come back for you . . . husband.

Fine. But remember, little rabbit, not a word to anyone." He moved close enough that the dark heat of him lapped against her in a quiet threat that made her glad for the blade. "I'm not a nice man when I'm angry." She held her position, a ragged attempt to erase the humiliation of the panic attack. "I'm fairly certain you're not a nice man at all." His answer was a slow smile that whispered of silk sheets, erotic whispers, and sweat-damp skin. The unhidden intent of it had her heart slamming hard against her ribs. "No" she said. Voice raw. "A challenge._ He wasn't touching her and yet she felt caressed by a thousand ropes of fur, soft and lush and unmistakably sexual. "I accept

Do you know where Jason is?_ she asked Dmitri when they exited the morgue. Dmitri pressed the car remote to unlock the flame red Ferrari parked in the employees-only lot. __ired of your Bluebell already?_ A tendril of champagne circled around her senses, cut with something far harder. Never had she felt that harsh edge in Dmitri__ scent. She pitied the woman he took to his bed today.__eah, that__ it. I__ building a harem.

But it was the dark hunger in his tone that got to her. Damn kinky vampire had actually liked the

I can smell blood, Elena,_ Dmitri drawled, walking back into the room. __re you trying to flirt?

In my time,_ he said, __hey believed in witches. Are you a witch, Honor, that you make me say these things to you?_ Causing him to rip open wounds that had stayed safely scabbed over for so long that, most of the time, he managed to forget they existed. Her hands, so very, very gentle, continued to hold his face as she tugged him down until their foreheads touched. ____ no witch, Dmitri. If I was, I__ know how to fix you.