That comforted him. He didn’t want a bruid who preferred jewels and furs to simple comforts. Been there, done that, and he had the scars to prove it. He’d stopped trying to get through to his ex-bruid Helena when he called her back to bed one morning. He was aroused and feeling warm all over. He’d wanted to hold her and slowly make her come in his arms. Instead, she had cocked an attitude with him about always needing her when she was busy. Then went and took a forty-minute shower. That had been the final notch that cinched his decision to terminate their blood bond.

Dominic sighed as the muscles in his neck bunched. Their permanent separation was too fresh in his mind. Bitter thoughts of her kept coming back at the worst of times. Such as when he was learning about his new bruid. His new bruid didn’t have Helena’s captivating beauty but she was stunning nonetheless. She had a wild, sultry beauty to her. He could easily picture her writhing above him as she rode his cock with her curly blonde hair beating against her breasts with each movement.

He licked his lips as the image took hold of him. He saw her hips pumping against him, his hand reaching to curl around the long strands of her hair until he pulled her head back to expose the beautiful arch of her neck and the throbbing pulse that beckoned him.

Ah hell. He was too old for lusting. However...it did feel good. His body had heated, his heart beat faster, and excitement flooded his veins. He hadn’t even spoken to her yet. What would it be like when they finally spoke? That’s when he’d really learn about her.

She could be stupid, petty, obnoxious, or have a horribly girly voice. Or a very masculine one, he amended. Whatever horrible trait, or gods forbid, traits she had they probably made her worse than Helena.

No one could ever be perfect.

Time to find out just what was wrong with his new bruid.

Dominic walked silently to the banister then leapt over it. He landed without a whisper of sound. According to her file he was some five hundred and fifty years older than her. She was practically a babe compared to him.

His eyes lingered over the rather substantial ampleness of her ass and agreed--babe indeed. Saliva pooled in his mouth and his fangs threatened to extend.

Being so much older than her meant his senses were superior as well. If he didn’t want her to hear him then she wouldn’t. He walked up behind her and stopped just a hair’s breadth away. Then he slowly let his presence known. It was a subtle tuning in the air. The shifting of particles that accommodated the space he took up. He watched her body stiffen as she finally sensed him. Her breath caught and then she spun around, her briefcase hitting his arm as she did.

Her eyes flared wide. Lovely eyes he wouldn’t mind staring into as he filled her. She’d be drenched wet and tight.

God, what was wrong him? Thinking with his dick wouldn’t do him any good.

I know the problem, said his cock. You haven’t fucked anyone in one hundred and two years.

He sighed. Damn if that wasn’t the truth. And he’d been surviving just fine. Honestly, after that long you quit thinking about. Only every now and then when he caught sight of Helena’s naked body, or caught a glimpse of passion during a movie did his cock harden to remind him how long it’d been.

“Hello, I’m so sorry for hitting you. You startled me.” Her lips curled into a tight smile. Damn shame that—it crushed her rather too full lips. Christ, his cock lengthened. He quickly shut the arousal down lest she smell it. Even some fresh-blooded vampires could smell arousal. It wouldn’t do frightening her, or worse, having her think him an old pervert. Which was too close to the truth.

“Beg my pardon,” he said.

She took a step back from him. He hoped his disappointment didn’t show that she needed space. She did a little curtsy bow which was odd. Her blood was just as blue as his. She shouldn’t be bowing to him. Unless she was trying to put on a good show.

He held out his hand. When she slid her hand into his he brought it to his mouth. A hot bloom began in his chest, warming him down to his stomach before moving further south. The scent of her struck him fast and hard—fresh young woman. His mouth watered again and he felt his eyes starting to close. His arm flexed to keep from turning her arm so he could place a kiss to her the warm flesh at her wrist like he craved.

Her eyes flashed wide, something warm and soft lingering there. She was aware of him. Completely aware in the way any healthy woman would be to an prospective mate. He knew it as certainly as he knew his name. That look told him that with a few caresses he could have her wet and needy for his cock. So simple…so tempting…

“Excuse me?” she said.

She’d been speaking and he’d missed all of it. He forced his lust-filled thoughts away and released her hand with a swift kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry, what was that?” His voice sounded like he’d eaten nails.

“I asked who you were.”

“Dominic Blackmoore.” He frowned. Surely she recognized him. Unless, she’d thought him to be one of his brothers. They were similar enough in appearance.

Her lips parted and he loved the flare of surprise that brightened her eyes. He got sick of everyone knowing who he was wherever he went, but she didn’t know him. They’d never formally met and for once the fact of his celebrity status made him feel proud.

“I’m—” she began.

“I know who you are. Won’t you come with me? We can get to know each other?” He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged.

She hesitated but nodded. He took the opportunity to touch her and put her hand over his arm as he led her upstairs.

This was going to be a fantastic day.

Felicity nearly tripped as the tall, sexy Blackmoore led her up the staircase on the other side of the room.

Holy hell. Holy hell. Holy hell!

This was Dominic Blackmoore? Everyone knew about Dominic Blackmoore. His celebrity status in the vamp society even extended into the human world. She’d heard of him attending society’s fancy galas but she’d never seen a picture of him. She’d heard rumors that he loathed to have his picture taken, and that once when a reporter tried to take his picture the man was beaten to a bloody pulp by Dominic himself. Dominic Blackmoore was said to be incredibly good looking, intelligent, and very manipulative. Since his father died, he was slated to be the next in line for the council’s presidency.

No wonder the man didn’t let paparazzi take pictures of him. If everyone knew he looked like a modern day warrior with his dark skin, thick hair, and tall frame they’d be all over him. He had a physique made for carrying muscle and lots of it. Felicity peered out the corner of her eyes to peek. Yup, it looked like he did.

Get a hold of yourself, Felicity. He’s just another man.

No, he’s not!

He had a strong, aristocratic nose, a jaw so strong she knew if she punched him it’d hurt her and not him. He kept his hair thick and wavy but cut short around his ears and nape. It had a more modern feel to it. Many of society’s wealthy vamps kept to the older ways of long hair and older clothes.

Not Dominic Blackmoore.

He wore a suit as if it was made specifically for him. It fit him that well. His body filled it to perfection and the material was so smooth she was afraid to touch it. In fact, Felicity cringed to think what the dry cleaning bill would cost to have a suit like that cleaned if she so much as sneezed on it. This was not a Men’s Warehouse suit. This was a designer suit that had probably been custom made for him. And damn did it look really good on him.

The suit was black but had thin deep grey stripes running up and down the jacket and pants. The grey was so dark it looked nearly black but had glossiness to it so it caught the light. His black shoes shined with the perfect buff as if he’d just bought them from the store, and he wore a light grey shirt under the jacket that looked incredibly soft. No tie, but he didn’t need one. Everything about him screamed money as surely as if he wore a red neon sign with flashing dollar signs on it.