Are you sure?
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
Tales of the Blood Kissed
Ratings:
135 pages2 hours
Summary
Every story has a beginning, and the legend of the Blood Kissed began long before Jocelyn was born. Discover how Jocelyn first became involved in the vampire world, how Max and Chad wound up as her dichotomous duo of protectors, and Remy's views on far too many things. You'll even get his version of how vampires came into being and why there is always a seat on the council for one known only as Remus.
Start this saga from the beginning, and remember, those who don't learn from the past are destined to repeat it.
Publisher: Seleste deLaneyReleased: Dec 7, 2015ISBN: 9781311729743Format: book
Book Preview
Tales of the Blood Kissed - Seleste deLaney
Present
Of Course I Try
When I came to his house tonight, I’d come to say goodbye. I remember that, even as his hands cup my breasts, squeezing them tenderly and rolling my nipples between his fingers. By the time Max lowers his head and sucks one tightened bud into his mouth, I can’t recall why I wanted to leave.
Candles and patchouli incense burn in the room as my body writhes against sage sheets so soft they feel like silk. They aren’t, though. I know his silk sheets—they’re black. The low light and spicy scent play on my senses, intoxicating me until the room disappears.
All I know are his hands and mouth on my body. Rough and soft. Dry and wet. Cool and warm.
His lips cover mine, and I give myself to the kiss as he reaches down and tugs off my panties. I’m wearing the lace ones. I’d come to say goodbye wearing the black lace panties he loves. But by the time they’re gone, I don’t consider why I’d do something like that because Max’s mouth has left mine and traced a line down my abdomen.
I know I should fight this, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I want Max—for as long as he’ll have me.
Rough hands cup my ass as he wedges my legs apart with his shoulders. Then despite, or maybe because of, the little moans that betray me, his lips travel lower, trailing kisses down to the inside of my thigh. His breath tickles as he hovers there, reaching out his tongue to trace a shape on my skin. It’s a heart. I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure.
Please, Max—
A little voice in my head screams that I should finish the sentence with stop
, but I don’t. I can’t.
A deep chuckle vibrates against my clitoris, making a shiver run all the way to my toes. Then his magical tongue caresses the already sensitive nub, and I cry out. He sucks it into his mouth just to the line where pain and pleasure meet—treading but never crossing over it.
I’m helpless beneath him, a prisoner to my body’s yearnings. My back arches off the relative safety of the bed, and Max takes full advantage. With the ease of years of practice, his hands slide beneath me, pulling me closer to him as his tongue delves into me.
I can’t think anymore. I can only feel. The pressure of his hands on my ass. The silky motion of his tongue inside me. The rough grazing of his teeth.
My hands clutch at the soft, green sheets, and I ball them in my fists as pleasure rips through me. I’ve never experienced orgasms like this with anyone else. Only Max. Wave after wave of sensation as my muscles contract around his tongue. It’s never stopped moving, never stopped drawing me to my peak.
I cry out his name. The only word that matters. Max.
Soon enough, I can’t even feel. Then there is nothing.
When I wake in the morning, everything is hazy. I remember coming over, remember the sex. The incredible, mind-altering sex, but then I’m blank. It isn’t the first time.
There’s a note on the pillow next to me.
Jocelyn,
I’m glad you came back. You have no idea how much I missed you.
Love forever,
Max
Something clicks in my brain, and I realize it isn’t the first time I’ve read those words either.
***
I met Max the summer after I graduated from Western. My roommates, Kaitlyn and Carri, insisted we go on a taste-tour of all the local wineries before we went our separate ways. On the last day of our trip, storm clouds darkened the sky as we pulled into Fenn Valley. We had just enough time to look around outside before the heavens opened and rain poured down in buckets.
A lot of the older people on the tour turned their noses up at us as we wandered through the cellar, listening to Jim, a stout man with weathered skin and a kind smile, tell us about the winemaking process. We didn’t care about the dirty looks for our bedraggled appearance or about the lecture. We’d heard the talk at a dozen other places in the last three days. Plus, Kait, Carri, and I did a much better job of poking fun at each other than anyone else could ever manage with just a look.
So we stood in a tiny knot and giggled at other people. Like the woman who must have stepped in something outside and kept trying to scrape it off her shoe without anyone noticing. And the girl who kept pawing her boyfriend even as he was making eyes at Carri.
We were still laughing when I first noticed the guy standing away from the rest of the group. To be honest, he wasn’t really my type. Kait had long accused me of only being attracted to guys who looked like they were bucking for a job as district attorney: suit, neatly trimmed hair, and short, manicured nails. Basically clean-cut, boy-next-door good looking, with brains to match. This guy had long, dark hair that curled slightly where it met his shoulders. And he wore a beat-up leather jacket and jeans that were too ragged to be new, but not ragged enough to be trendy.
I almost turned away, ready to make him the next target of our snark, but then he caught my gaze. Even from across the darkened cellar, I could make out the deep blue of his eyes. Most blue eyes were pale, icy, but not his. I drank in his gaze, my heart beating faster with every second, and I didn’t look away until Carri grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward as the tour moved on to the tasting room.
Once we started drinking and laughing again, I forgot about the bad boy with the killer eyes and just focused on my girls. In the morning, Carri was off to Chicago, Kait to Jersey, and me—I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t have anything lined up. At worst, I’d go home for a while. But I wasn’t worrying about it tonight. This last getaway was for us.
When we were done sampling the wines, I stepped over to Jim and said, We’d like to get a bottle of the merlot to take with us.
Jim smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a voice came from behind me instead, deep and rich like melted chocolate.
You don’t want the merlot.
I turned and found myself inches from those impossibly blue eyes. After staring for several long seconds, I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. Why’s that?
Because the merlot isn’t their best.
He leaned around me and flashed a dazzling smile at Jim. No offense.
Jim grunted from behind me. None taken.
I put my hands on my hips and tried to glare at him, but his eyes and that self- assured, lopsided smile made it hard. "All right, then. What, may I ask, should my friends and I be drinking tonight?"
Your friends can drink whatever they want, but you should have at least one glass of Cabernet Franc with me.
It wasn’t a request, but it wasn’t an order either—just a suggestion.
My throat dried out, and I had to swallow hard before I could answer him. Thanks, but I think I’ll just take the merlot.
I forced myself to turn away from the depths of his eyes and hand Jim my credit card. It took forever for the slip to hit the counter so I could sign it, and all the while, I felt the bad-boy wine critic staring at me.
Gripping the bottle like some sort of life preserver, I turned to go back to my friends. He just nodded at me with the hint of a smile still on his face like he was in on some joke I wasn’t privy to.
Irritated, I clenched my jaw and stomped back to Kait and Carri. Okay, got it. Let’s get back to the hotel.
I grabbed my coat and started toward the door.
Whoa, girly, what’s your rush?
Carri’s hand fell on my arm and pulled me to a stop.
Yeah,
Kaitlyn said, her green eyes dancing. What did Mr. Tall-dark-and-devilish want to talk to you about? He seemed really intense.
The urge to turn around and look at him one more time sang in my head, echoing until my skull ached. Wine recs. Why don’t you go for it, Kait? He’s more your type than mine.
She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and nodded at something behind me. Because I think he’s pretty intent on his target.
I didn’t need to look. Somehow, I could feel him standing there, a whisper of air against my skin like a tiny breeze on a hot summer day. My breath came faster, in little gasps I couldn’t stop. This time I wanted to turn around—I needed to see him.
He held two glasses of red wine in perfectly manicured hands—nails trimmed nice and short and buffed until they shone—as if some part of him wanted to fit my ideal while the rest strove to challenge the remainder of my preferences. I thought maybe you changed your mind about that drink.
Carri leaned close and hissed in my ear, If you don’t say yes, I will personally shave your head while you sleep.
Obviously, neither of them intended to let me forget it if I turned the guy down. Fine. One drink.
My friends ducked out with our bottle before I could change my mind.
He waved a hand at our abandoned table, and I took a seat. My name’s Max Shaw, and I’m sorry if I upset you when you ordered. I just hate to see people waste money on an inferior vintage.
I didn’t want him to be polite. I wanted him to be a jerk, so I could go back to the girls and tell them
You've reached the end of this preview. Sign up to read more!
Page 1 of 1