Scarlet Boa

Ian scowled at her answer, then sighed. "Much as I'd love to lay here and debate with you, love, you need to eat." With that said, Ian stood up and pulled her out of the bed, throwing her body over his shoulder.

Jax smacked his bare buttock, railing, "Put me down, Ian."

"Watch it," he said with a chuckle and smacked her ass, hard.

"Ye-ouch! You don't know your own strength, you damn vamp." Jax struggled against him as he descended the stairs.

Ian rubbed the spot he'd just smacked then copped a feel.

"Ian!"

"Hey, when this sweet ass is bared and in-my-face, there's no way I'm not taking advantage," he said, his grin obvious in his words.

Turn around was fair play. Jax grabbed the firm muscle of one buttock then bit down.

"Ow!" he howled.

"That's for biting me," she shot back with a smug smile. Ian had reached the kitchen area and swiftly set her down.

Grasping her arms, his expression serious, he said, "Jax, the exchange of blood during lovemaking is a vampire tradition, highly satisfying and incredibly erotic, especially with your mate." His grip tightened. "Didn't it heighten your pleasure?"

Was he nuts? Of course, it felt good...it...oh, just tell him. "I was referring to the bite on my shoulder." She gave him a sexy grin. "In answer to your question, yes, I found the experience very sensual and exciting." At his smug smile, she held up her hand. "But I'm not your mate, nor can I ever be."

His smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of confusion. "Why can't you be?"

Jax tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held fast. "Because I'm a vampire hunter, Ian. It's what I do."

He shrugged. "So what? I'm a vampire hunter, too."

She shook her head, looking away. "No, it's more than that. Vampires are my sworn enemy." And that sworn vengeance against all vampires is my only link to my father, even if that link grows weaker and weaker the more time I spend with you.

Ian grasped her chin. "Am I your enemy, Jacqueline?" he asked softly.

She stared at his chin, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. "No," she whispered. Straightening her spine, she continued, "But this runs deeper than you and me, Ian."

He frowned. "Because of your dad and what you were raised to believe?"

He'd hit the nail on the head. Her loyalty to her dad and her mother's memory ran deep, so deep that guilt at her traitorous thoughts churned in her belly, making her feel sick to her stomach. Ian's grip had loosened and she shoved away from him, needing space.