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“Taking her by the hand, he led her to the high-backed sofa in front of the fireplace and drew her down beside him, his arms sliding around her shoulders to hold her close. "Time for a taste," he said, and bent his head to her neck. "No!" Panic surged through her. She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but his arm, as hard and unyielding as iron, held her fast. She gasped when she felt the faint sting of his fangs at her throat. His mouth was incredibly hot against her skin. He was drinking from her. She expected to feel revulsion, disgust, horror. Instead, a delicious warmth spread through her whole body, pooling deep within her, culminating in a rush of unexpected sensual pleasure that stole the breath from her body. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she grabbed a handful of his hair to hold him in place, afraid he would take his mouth away. She moaned softly, heard his soft chuckle as he ran his tongue along her neck, and then drank again. She was lost, she thought, lost in a world of sensation unlike anything she had ever imagined. It was almost beyond bearing. If only he would stop. If only he would never stop.” — Amanda Ashley