Never Been Bitten Read Online Free PDF

of the devil himself, and you wish to quibble over the existence of vampires?” She waved a silk-gloved hand in Ellie’s direction and sat back with a pleased nod. “Certainly now you must believe.”
    “We have proven he bites,” Ellie admitted begrudgingly. “We have not proven that he drinks blood.”
    Even as she said the words, she recalled the taste of that single drop of blood on her tongue, and her body thrilled with a sensation she could only liken to arousal. Her petticoats seemed simultaneously too tight, too heavy, too thick, the carriage too quick and too confining, and the oxygen altogether too insignificant to fulfill the quantity needed by her gasping lungs.
    For a moment, a very brief, very intense moment, she had wanted him with terrible acuteness. Her vision had closed to only his face, his neck, and she’d longed to bite him, kiss him, tear his clothes from his limbs and demand he do the same to her.
    Even now, she could taste his blood in her mouth, feel his strength beneath her palms, smell his scent and his own arousal, sense the danger exuding from his every pore. It was the disturbing sensation that she, too, was just as dangerous that had snapped her out of her trance long enough for her to gather her wits. Some of them, anyway. At least she’d managed to finish the waltz without attacking him again.
    “Even if we’d proven he has a taste for blood,” she said, grateful the dark interior of the carriage would mask her telltale blush, “that would not prove him a vampire. It would just make him . . . an extremely eccentric Scot. One must have empirical evidence before making sweeping claims.”
    Miss Breckenridge smiled as if, shadows or no, she detected the lie of Ellie’s forced confidence. As if she saw through the careful façade of bluestocking scientist to the very rattled young woman underneath.
    “See? You just presumed it possible—if not probable —that we will in fact prove your eccentric Scot boasts a taste for blood.” Miss Breckenridge gave a pleased nod. “Whether you admit it or not, you are already starting to believe.”
    Peevishly, Ellie returned her client’s gaze and refused to respond.
    Miss Breckenridge carried on nonetheless. “Besides, drinking blood isn’t the only sign of demonic vampirism.”
    One of Ellie’s brows lifted despite herself. “No?”
    At this query, Miss Breckenridge shook her head triumphantly.
    “What else is there, then? Empirically, that is.”
    “For one, vampires cannot abide sunlight.” Miss Breckenridge’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And no one has ever seen Mártainn Macane during the day.”
    Ellie’s shoulder twitched, but she refrained from indulging in a shrug. “With all due respect, that simply proves he dislikes the sun. Given that pale complexions are de rigueur, avoiding the sun hardly makes him suspicious. I’m a night person myself. I cannot remember the last time I gadded about during the day, if I ever have, and I’m certainly not a vampire. My own mother rarely leaves her bedchamber before dusk—surely you don’t accuse her of vampirism, too?”
    “No, no, of course not,” Miss Breckenridge said with a wave of her lace-gloved hand. “But then, your mother hasn’t been running about biting nobility, as Lord Lovenip does.” Miss Breckenridge gasped dramatically and pressed her hand to her throat in obvious consternation. “Oh dear Lord, I’ve gone and used that ridiculous moniker myself.” She screwed up her face and glared at Ellie as if the slip were somehow Ellie’s fault instead of her own. With a sigh, she collapsed back against her seat. “What can I do to convince you vampires exist and that the dashing Mr. Macane is living—or rather undead—proof? Is it money you wish? Here ...” She opened a satin, monogrammed reticule and dug through its contents before brandishing a crumpled five-pound note. “I’ll double the amount. This now, and fifteen more once you conclude the