Lucian rotated in his chair to face her. With dark amusement in his eyes, he opened his mouth, revealing wicked sharp fangs.
Abbey steeled herself. She would not let him unnerve her. If she was going to keep working in this industry, then he was just one more challenge she needed to overcome. The damn vampire could make the next month impossibly hard if she let him cow her. But she would not fail. Not in a month, and not now.
She bent over, resting one hand on the arm of his chair to get close enough. There was no mistaking the thundering pounding of her heart as their faces moved toward each other. Ignoring the intensity of his eyes, she quickly swept the swab along his inner cheek. Her gaze fastened on his lips and despite herself, she wondered how it would feel to have them run across her skin. What would he do if she leaned just a tiny bit forward and touched her mouth to his?
She snapped up, stepping away from the vampire before she could do something she regretted. Abbey dropped the swab into its sterile container and reached for the scissors.
“I only need a few strands of hair,” she explained, her voice sounding far more breathy than she’d expected. “You won’t even miss them.”
He made no move as she drew closer again. She combed a few strands of black hair from behind his ear. Her fingers worked gently to free the locks from the tight queue he’d pulled them into. With a quick snip, the hairs rested in her hand. She glanced up to catch the vampire staring straight at the breasts she’d practically shoved in his face.
With a squeak, she hopped back. During the course of her job, she’d collected hundreds of samples. It had never felt so intimate before.
Blue eyes rose to hers, looking darker than they had moments before. “What’s next?” he asked. The velvet voice sounded a little strained.
“I need to touch you.”
The blue of his irises darkened even more.
She cleared her throat. “I mean, I need to use the tissue to collect a sample of your scent to analyze your pheromones.”
“I am at your command.”
The words put thoughts in her head that had no business being there. Thoughts of having him to command in her bed. Of telling him exactly what she wanted, needed. Of having him follow her orders, until he couldn’t take it anymore and reclaimed that delicious control.
She shivered. Trying to focus on her work, she reached for the specialized tissue and stripped it from its packaging.
Abbey hesitated a moment before touching the cloth to his neck. In slow, careful strokes, she drew the soft tissue down his throat. Lucian held perfectly still for her while she worked. All she needed was a second of skin contact for the cloth to do its work, but she couldn’t resist a last lingering touch. His skin was warm beneath the cotton cloth. She felt the steady beat of his pulse, proving he’d fed recently. The urge to press her lips to that pounding pulse was almost more than she could take.
“Done,” she said hoarsely. Slipping the cloth into its designated bag, she tossed the samples into the briefcase. “Unless you produce venom with your fangs.”
He shook his head. “My bite brings pleasure, not pain.”
Meeting his heated gaze, there was no doubt a promise of pleasure was something this man was more than capable of delivering on.
Vampire, her mind whispered. He literally eats foolish girls like you for breakfast.
With jerky steps, she stumbled back to her chair. “We need to make you a profile,” she said, trying to bring their conversation back to a professional level.
“Of course.” He swung the chair forward to face her, the desk back between them. Only now, it didn’t seem like a barrier. Instead, visions of climbing over it to kiss him filled her head. He would swipe his papers to the floor and lay her back against the dark wood and then—
“Profile,” she said, her voice strangled. “I assume you want to use your given name?”
He nodded as she pulled her tablet from the briefcase and brought up a new member’s page. “I need your birth date. The year is fine.”
“1092.”
He was over nine hundred years old. And she thought her last boyfriend had been too old for her.
“We need to set up your preferences, the species you’d be open to dating. For example, mermaids, weres, fey, demons, and so on.”
“No werewolves,” he said. “I don’t want my home smelling of wet dog.”
She shook her head but unchecked the box marked werewolf.
“And no sirens. All that singing. Hair everywhere.” He shuddered.
Abbey dutifully unchecked siren. Vivian would be thoroughly offended. Scrolling down, she read the next species preference she needed to ask him about.
“Humans?” she said, keeping her gaze on the tablet.