First Drop of Crimson (Night Huntress World, #1)

by Jeaniene Frost

Put Spade in a Calvin Klein ad and women would be tempted to lick the page,

First she’d manipulated him, now she insulted him. “No.” She blinked. “No?” “I understand your confusion,” Spade said smoothly, “since it seems you don’t hear that word often, but allow me to explain. It means I’m not your employee. It means you’ll need to do what I say in order for me to find your greedy relative, and it means your personal preferences in the matter aren’t my concern. Quite clear now as to its definition?”

“About three miles from Crazytown with my foot on the pedal, I’d say.”

he found he was loath to let go of her hand. And that spelled trouble in every language he knew.

Perhaps for his next brilliant notion, he’d take up shaving with a chain saw.

“Just because a lady can, doesn’t mean she should,”

“He’s only being polite. You should look the word up,” Denise settled on. Ian snorted. “And angels fly out of my arse when I fart.

Why couldn’t people acknowledge that occasionally, life just sucked? Didn’t they

realize that sometimes silence was more comforting than the most sincere expression of sympathy or attempt at showing the deeper meaning behind it all?

avarice

That was going in the opposite direction than she’d intended. Okay, one shallow, uninteresting female, coming up. “I just love your girlfriend’s purse,” Denise said with the proper amount of feminine gushing. “Is it Versace? Versace’s my favorite.

Web had to wonder who’d done it, and he’d already expressed skepticism at Spade moving in next door with his shockingly alive girlfriend.

The pressure at her core inflamed her, sending waves of need crashing through her. Denise arched against him once more, letting out a choked moan as Spade undulated his hips. His pelvis rubbed again her clitoris in a deep caress, the heavy length of him pushing against the barrier of her underwear.

“Before I tell you anything, I must first inform you that whatever her initial reasons for seeking me out, things are serious between Denise and me,” Spade said. Then his voice hardened. “You’re not leaving with her, Crispin, unless it’s over my dried, withered corpse.”

“Denise,” he said low. “If you can hear me, I very much need to you come back. Don’t resign me to the fate of being one of those crusty old vampires who only live with their pets.”

“Ready?” he asked softly, but also with irony. “Life never waits until you’re ready. I wasn’t ready to turn into a vampire, but I did. I wasn’t ready to lose someone I loved a long time ago, but it happened. You weren’t ready to have your husband murdered, but he was. You certainly weren’t ready for a demon to brand you, but he did.

“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” he whispered in her ear. “Oh, darling, I feel like you’ve brought me back to life.” His words were so reminiscent of how she felt that she choked back a sob. She’d felt that terrible, deadening emptiness for only fifteen months. How had Spade stood it, feeling it for almost a hundred and fifty years? Guilt wormed its way inside her immediately after that thought. Shouldn’t it have taken her longer to love someone again? It had for Spade. Was she a bad person to feel this way so soon? Spade set her back on her feet, gently smoothing her hair away from her face. “You’ll always love him,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “That doesn’t die just because he did, or because you now love me. Your love for him is part of who you are. It’s a beautiful part, Denise. Don’t be sad of it, and I will never be jealous of it.”