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Crystal Green


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Good to the Last BiteGOOD TO THE LAST BITE

Harlequin Blaze #426
October 2008
ISBN: 978-0373794300

He won’t stop until he has her…

Edward Marburn is a vampire—for the second time.  He’s also desperate to be human again, and has vowed vengeance on his creator, Gisele.  Now he’s on the hunt for her.  And Edward always traps his quarry….

But he doesn’t remember this particularly luscious quarry being so sensual. Gisele has a hold on this thoughts, his imagination and his very willing body. He’s powerless to resist her. The tables are turned—the hunter is caught.

Yet despite the supercharged sex, Edward still longs to regain his humanity. And that can happen only if he kills the one who made him—Gisele.

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Gisele donned a pair of gloves as if they were high-fashion accessories.

“Edward, Edward,” she said.

Each time she purred his name, he grew hard.


He stirred, his mind warring with his body. But she seemed to recognize his stimulation, her gaze lighting on his groin.

She sighed, coming closer, her high, saucy heels tapping on the floor. “Why do you wish to kill me when you want me so badly?”


“No denials. I can hear the blood racing through you. Vampire to vampire, I can sense the change in your body, how it is readying itself for me. I greatly interest you in a way that has nothing to do with slaying, and you cannot tell me any differently.”

He knew this was a losing battle, so he laconically shrugged.

She cocked her head, reading him—a powerful surge against his skull told him that much. But even with the silver chains that held him to the attic wall, he was still able to block her from entering.

Yet he didn’t know how long that would last as the energy ebbed out of him with every building pulse.

When she stopped, he breathed easier. But then she crossed her arms over her chest, the gesture pushing her small, firm breasts into succulent globes, and once again, it was harder to get air into his lungs.

“What shall I do with you?” she asked more to herself than him.

“We both know the answer to that.”

“Edward.” She came closer, bringing with her the scent of blood under skin—a heady fragrance that tempted his fangs to push against his gums. “I thought to persuade you of my good intentions. That is the reason I brought you here to our hideout.”

Because of her proximity, his fangs had popped. He could not stop them in this weakened state.

She continued. “I would like to make things right between us. Wouldn’t it be far more agreeable to come to an understanding?”

He barked out a soft laugh. This was rich.

Resting his cheek against the wall, he concentrated on shutting her out: her scent, her proximity. All of it was chisling into him and wearing him down.

But when she came to hover only inches away, she invaded him: every sense, every weakness.

“My goal,” she said softly, almost tenderly, “is to tame you.”

If he had possessed the energy, he would have physically struck out at her instead of only using words. “Tame? As a master would tame a wild thing?”

“You are not wild, merely…misunderstood.”

“You should listen to Sam,” he said, hating that he could not fight back or even fight at all. “He has sense enough to know that I will not take to any taming.”

She paused, got a speculative twinkle in her gaze, then slowly lowered herself to all fours, crawling toward him until she was in his line of sight. Her erotic pose caused lust to surge through him until his cock and fang-pierced gums punched in frenzied time.

His gaze sheered to a brutal red tinge that colored her every move.

Turned on…almost out of control….

“You know,” she said, “the more you resist, the more you challenge me? And I do adore a challenge, Edward. Perhaps if you had stayed with the gang, you would have known that.”

“I was not about to be Fegan’s puppet even one more night. Pity that you cared so little for yourself or for the world that you never left him.”

She tilted her head. “Stephen, Roger…all of the boys came to despise Fegan, but he was a creature of his age and appetites. In his later years, he did mellow.”

Edward thought of the greedy, slothful vampire leader whose gaudy rings cut into his fingers. Fegan’s appetites had been so disgusting that the gang had slowly distanced themselves from his blood orgies; it would not do to offend Fegan outright, lest they pay a heavy price. But Edward had chanced it, leaving the group during World War II, in spite of the threat of extermination from the powerful Fegan should he ever cross paths with Edward again.

Since Edward had not yet learned that killing his creator would free him, he’d vowed never intended to return, anyway. The threat of extermination was a pittance compared to all the education he had absorbed, all the sights he had seen around the world as he had explored possible ways to retrieve his soul and flush away all his vampiric excesses by starting over again.

Recently, during one of Edward’s visits to the now-human Stephen and his family, Stephen had said that the only tempering influence on Fegan in his later years had been Gisele. It was true that she had accompanied the rapacious vampire on most of his blood-soaked rampages, but Stephen doubted there had been as much senseless carnage with her there to pull him back.

However, Edward had seen no proof of decency in her. Even now, he sensed that she was more animal than anything, with her feral gaze and sinuous body.

The tips of her mouth had lifted in an alluring smile, and he knew that she was dead-set on this taming idea of hers.

Slowly, she reached out with a gloved hand, tugging on Edward’s coat. When he didn’t resist, she began to work it from his shoulders.

Anger welled in him, but he didn’t move. First, she wouldn’t dare bite him with the silver on him and, thus, in his system, so that gave him some measure of defense. Also, the silver was still binding him, so he couldn’t do much anyway.

In his present state, Gisele really did have the power to overcome him, and it seemed that his wisest option would be to bide his time until he could somehow slip out of the chains after she had gone, regain his strength, then launch a surprise attack when she returned.

Yes, he would withstand her taming for now, he thought as she unwrapped the chains from around one of his wrists. Then she guided his coat off that side, replacing the chains and repeating the process with the other arm.

Problem was, this strip off reminded him a little too vividly of those revenge-turned-sexual fantasies he’d battled: her tearing off his shirt, his pants, then him turning the tables and dominating her, ripping her clothing off in kind.

His jacket was on the floor by now, so she assessed his T-shirt. With a pleased gasp, she ripped the cotton down the center, then ran her gloved fingers down his chest, her eyes glowing….


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