A gust of cold air from the open window stirred the curtains. The person who'd opened that window had triggered the alarm, and that person was still in the room.
Female. And mortal. The scent of her blood swirled around him, caressing his skin like the touch of a lover. She was his favorite flavor—Type AB positive.
Thank God Roman had invented synthetic blood in 1987, so Ian and other Vamps were no longer slaves to bloodlust. Even so, his body reacted with the same primeval instinct that had ruled him since his transformation in 1542. His gums tingled. He had enough years of experience to know how to control himself, but it was taking some extra effort tonight. That fifth glass of Bleer had been a bad idea.
Her back was to him as she studied the bookshelves on the far wall. No doubt she was planning to steal the rarest books in Roman's collection. The library contained everything from medieval tomes hand-scribed by monks to first print editions from the nineteenth century.
She hadn't heard him arrive in his stocking feet. And she hadn't heard the alarm since it was set at a frequency only Vamps and dogs could hear. And she certainly didn't sense the reaction she'd ignited in him.
He felt ten degrees hotter in spite of the cold December air that drifted through the open window and over his white undershirt. The lamp between the two wingback chairs was turned on low, and it cast a golden glow across the room to outline her form with a shimmering aura.
She made a stunning cat burglar, dressed entirely in black spandex that molded to her waist and sweetly curved hips. Her golden hair hung in a ponytail down her back. The ends swished gently across her shoulder blades as she moved her head from side to side, scanning the bookshelf.
She stepped to the side, silent in her black socks. She must have left her shoes outside the window, thinking she'd move more quietly without them. He noted her slim ankles, then let his gaze wander back up to golden hair. He would have to be careful capturing her. Like any Vamp, he had super strength, and she looked a bit fragile.
He moved silently past the wingback chairs to the window. It made a swooshing sound as he shut it.
With a gasp, she turned toward him. Her eyes widened. Eyes green as the hills surrounding his home in Scotland.
A surge of desire left him speechless for a moment. She seemed equally speechless. No doubt she was busily contemplating an escape route.
He moved slowly toward her. "Ye willna escape through the window. And ye canna reach the door before me."
She stepped back. "Who are you? Do you live here?"
"I'll be asking the questions, once I have ye restrained." He could hear her heart beating faster. Her face remained expressionless, except for her eyes. They flashed with defiance. They were beautiful.
She plucked a heavy book off a nearby shelf. "Did you come here to test my abilities?"
An odd question. Was he misinterpreting the situation? "Who—" He dodged to the side when she suddenly hurled the book at his face. Bugger, he'd suffered too much to get his older, more manly face, and she'd nearly smacked it.
The book flew past him and knocked over the lamp. The light flickered and went out. With his superior vision, he could see her dark form running for the door.
He zoomed after her. Just before he could grab her, she spun and landed a kick against his chest. He stumbled back. Damn, she was stronger than he'd thought. And he'd suffered too much to get his broader, more manly chest.
She advanced with a series of punches and kicks, and he blocked them all. With a desperate move, she aimed a kick at his groin. Dammit, he'd suffered too much to get his bigger, more manly balls. He jumped back, but her toes caught the hem of his kilt. Without his sporran to weigh the kilt down, it flew up past his waist.
Her gaze flitted south and stuck. Her mouth fell open. Aye, those twelve years of growth had been kind. He lunged forward and slammed her onto the carpet. She punched at him, so he caught her wrists and pinned her to the floor.
She twisted, attempting to knee him. With a growl, he blocked her with his own knee. Then slowly he lowered himself on top of her to keep her still. Her body was gloriously hot, flushed with blood and throbbing with a life force that made his body tremble with desire.
"Stop wiggling, lass." His bigger, more manly groin was reacting in an even bigger way. "Have mercy on me."
"Mercy?" She continued to wriggle beneath him. "I'm the one who's captured."
"Cease." He pressed more heavily on her.
Her eyes widened. He had no doubt she was feeling it.
Her gaze flickered down, then back to his face. "Get off. Now."