I pressed my lips together and fumed, stymied. Hip cocked, I could do nothing as he took a distancing step back and flipped through it.

“Have you read it?” he asked, then made a surprised Mmmm sound as he paused at a page. “I forgot about that one. I wonder if I can still do that.”

“Yes, I’ve read it.” I extended my hand. “Give it here.”

Kisten pulled his attention from the pages, his long masculine hands cradling the book open. His eyes had gone black just a wee bit, and I cursed myself as a thrill of excitement went through me. Damn vamp pheromones.

“Ooooh, it’s important to you,” Kisten said, glancing out the door when Ivy banged something in the kitchen. “Rachel…” he said, his voice softer as he moved a step closer. “You know all my secrets.” Without looking, his fingers dog-eared a page. “What drives me crazy. What instinctively tips me over—the—edge…”

He said the last word carefully, and I stifled a delicious shudder.

“You know how to…manipulate me,” he murmured, the book dangling from an inattentive hand. “Do witches have a manual?”

He had somehow gotten within two feet of me, and I didn’t remember him moving. The smell of his wool coat was strong, and under that was the heady scent of leather. Flustered, I snatched the book away, and Kisten dropped back a step. “Don’t you wish,” I muttered. “Ivy gave it to me so I would stop pushing her buttons. That’s all it is.” I shoved it under my pillow, and his smile widened. Damn it, if he touched me, I was going to slug him.

“That’s where it belongs,” he said. “Not a closet. Keep it close for quick reference.”

“Get out,” I said, pointing.

Long coat drifting about his shoe tops, he moved to the door, his every motion holding a confident seductive grace. “Put your hair up,” he said as he sauntered through the arch-way. A grin came over him, showing me his teeth. “I like your neck. Page twelve, third paragraph down.” He licked his lips, hiding the flash of fang even as I saw it.

“Out!” I shouted, taking two steps and slamming the door.

Fuming, I turned to what he had laid out on my bed, glad I’d made it that afternoon. A faint tingling at my neck drew my hand up, and I pressed my palm into it, willing it away. I stared at my pillow, then hesitantly pulled the book out. Rynn Cormel had written it? Cripes, the man had single-handedly run the country during the Turn, and he had enough time to write a vampire sex manual, too?