They broke apart, breathing heavily.

His cool breath sent shivers down her spine. "Why are you here?" he asked in a low rumble, his pupils fully dilated. The muscles on his chest rippled under his T-shirt. "I'll kill you."

"I don't think you will...," she replied unconcerned, desire burning in her eyes, "...and I don't care. I want you. I have for 500 years."

They locked lips again. She smelled intoxicating, like whisky. "You're a witch?"

"No," she moaned, her head falling back exposing her soft pulse. Losing control, he sunk his fangs into her neck and they tumbled to the sofa. He crushed her against the fine leather. She was inebriating. He growled his head spinning. The feeling grew until his vision blurred. He pulled away. Not witch's blood. He tried to shake off the poison. She tackled him and they fell off the sofa onto the fine wool carpet. She kissed him passionately until he was unable to move. Pausing, she gazed deeply in his eyes.

"You are not a witch," he said, speech slurred.

"No." She leaned down feathering kisses along his jaw.

"I want you!"

"I'll kill you," she whispered breaking apart.

"I don't care."