Work Text:
Stolen Warmth
There were times of course, when his skin, his body, was as cold as stone. But not when the blood of another ran through his veins. It never really mattered which condition he was in, he was always the most beautiful creature on my list.
As I stared across the hot, smoky floor of Guilty Pleasures, the view of Jean Claude drowned out the din of all the customers and of the constant seductive, throbbing music. There was only him, his sapphire eyes peering from behind waist length, curly, raven locks, piercing more than my body. How could I be in love with, even crave, the affections of a vampire?
He could be as ruthless and deadly as me and that made me feel safe.
The brush of his mind against mine sent shivers of delight up my spine, stroking places that no hand could. As he strode to me, I wondered if I, Anita Blake, the Vampire Executioner, shouldn’t kill the man of my dreams.
Then he gathered me into his pale arms and I could feel the warm throb of his heart against my cheek.
Stolen warmth.
“I have missed you, ma petite. Je t’ aime.”
Nah, I don’t think I’ll kill him tonight.
Disclaimer
I do not own any of the works or characters created and published by Laurell K. Hamilton.