

A vampire prince becomes obsessed with his maid, whose revealing attire offers a constant, tantalizing temptation. He summons her to his private chambers, where their forbidden encounter fulfills both his carnal hunger and his thirst for her sweet, sustaining milk.
The note was in his elegant, slashing script. Elara’s pulse hammered in her throat, a frantic bird against her ribs. She stood before his door, the castle silent around her, the thin fabric of her skirt a whisper against her thighs. Every breath made the low neckline of her top threaten to spill her completely. She was here because he’d seen. He’d seen everything.
The cold, polished wood of his desk seared her bare thighs as he lifted her onto it. He stood between her legs, his own clothing finally shed, and the first blunt pressure of him against her entrance was a world-ending promise. He pushed inside with a single, devastating thrust, and the stretch was so profound she saw stars—it was possession, not joining. As he began to move, his mouth found her throat, then lower, seeking the sweet, forbidden scent at her breast.