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Tzadkiel yanked the hunter’s head back to expose his neck. Benjamin gasped, his pulse leaping under the goose bumps dotting his skin.
The scent of terror, sharp and bright, called to Tzadkiel, whetting his predator-drive. Hunger and arousal licked at his control, peeling back the layers of his humanity to expose the vampire beneath.
“That’s right, hunter,� Tzadkiel bit out, saliva pooling. “Fear me.�
Benjamin, panting, remained stock still, fear pulsing off him in fragrant waves. “Go ahead. Bite me. It’ll be the last fucking thing you do.�

“There’s something phallic about a needle, don’t you think? You’d watch me sliding it into you, knowing there’s no part of you I can’t penetrate. Nothing off-limits. There’s no reason it can’t be part of our play if we want it to be.�

What if I lose him over that very small part of me that few other people would ever be able to understand—let alone desire.�

My cock had zero problems with memory, though. Like a heat-seeking missile . . .

Conventional wisdom stated that the bottom was the one in control. Whoever made that shit up hadn’t been fucked by Ryker. Because I was on top, riding him, setting the pace and the only one orchestrating this thing? The dark-haired, dark-eyed man who undid me with a look, never mind his cock.

I didn’t need to be rational when a hot, tattooed biker was breaking in to my place and fucking me senseless.

Another vision flashed in front of me—that cherry-red Ferrari, me helpless and spread across the hood, and Ryker fucking the hell out of me. Holding my hips as he filled me. Like he was claiming me, punishing me . . . for stealing, for racing, for talking to the other guys while he was there.

Stealing was freedom. Being forced to steal, not so much.

They couldn’t borrow enough

They couldn’t borrow enough time to fix the past now.