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I lifted my hand and gently touched my throat, at that little hollow at the base. I wondered if the satisfying sensation of drinking a glassful of cold water, that nonsexual pleasure you felt with no longer being thirsty, was how he felt when he drank… blood?—
“Yes,” he said low in that grumbly voice of his that turned my insides out, drawing me from of my thoughts.
I snapped my focus to him, not realizing I’d been staring at his throat. His eyes were these inky pools that drew me in, bottomless like space or the ocean, or a vat full of spilled ink.
“W-What?”
He smirked, a little tilt of his lips that told me he found my question humorous, because he and I both knew I was very aware of what he meant.
“You just finished your water and got this faraway look in your eyes. You were deep in thought as you touched your throat, as your focus went to my neck.” He brought his glass to his mouth and drank half the bourbon in one swallow. “You were wondering if that undeniable thirst, the kind that claws at your throat, that unbearable need clenching your belly for some relief, is what I feel when I need blood.”
“Can you read minds?” My voice was low, inquisitive. I wanted to seem like I was surer of things, that I wasn’t panicking on the inside. But really, what difference did it make? This man had to know my world was turned upside down and for obvious reasons I’d be freaked out.
“Sadly, for my kind, that’s not one of my many incredible abilities.” He flashed me a cocky grin, all straight, white teeth, his canines tapering to daggerlike points.
Although I’d been one of those people who found vampires in movies and books exotically sexual, dangerously attractive in a fantastical kind of way, sitting right beside one, accepting that this was actually reality, brought things into a whole new perspective.
“But yeah, to put it mildly, that’s what it’s like for my kind when we need blood.” He leaned forward. “If you add that there’s a fire in your blood, like your muscles are being shredded, like a sledgehammer is being taken to your bones.” His focus was so intent. “You can’t breathe because you’re so thirsty you can't think straight.” The deeper I stared into his eyes, the more I got lost. “You’re trapped in your own personal hell, and the only thing that can ease you, the only antidote, the only thing that’ll get you off, is a mouthful of that thick, coppery flavor of someone else’s life pouring down your throat and filling your belly.”
I swallowed and nodded, because what exactly could you say to something like that?
“And when you’re finally gorging yourself on it, swallowing as much as you can, as fast as you can, there’s nothing in the world that tastes as good.” He slowly leaned forward, so damn slowly he was like a predator about to pounce on that unsuspecting prey. “At least,” he murmured, and his voice dropped lower, his eyes becoming hooded, “it used to be the sweetest taste in the world.”
I was breathing harder, had my hands curled tightly into fists in my lap.
“But I have to admit.” He leaned another inch until I felt the warm brush of his alcohol-laced breath move along my lips. “Your blood and the flavor of your sweet pussy far surpass anything else.”
With a strength I hadn’t known I possessed, I leaned back, farther away from him. I wouldn’t let the foggy haze of arousal cloud my mind and divert me from what I wanted to ask, all the important things I needed to know.
He chuckled low and deep but allowed me my space as he, too, moved back to settle comfortably in his chair. My heart was still racing, this fear of myself and how much I liked all of this, confusing and terrifying me.
I felt something cold and wet touch my arm and glanced down to see the dog nudge me with his nose. He looked up at me with his huge black eyes, a low huff leaving him.
“He’s trying to comfort you. He can tell you’re on edge, afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I whispered—lied—still looking at the dog.
“Yes, you are.”
I looked at Adryan and licked my lips. “I’m afraid of the situation.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Not of you.”
He smiled. It wasn’t an arrogant grin. Wasn’t a smirk. It was a sincere smile. “I know.” He finished off his bourbon, the bottom of his glass banging on the table as he set it back down. “And it turns me on.”
19
Kayla
Damn the flush of heat that slammed into me over his words.
“You have a shitload of questions, and I have all the time in the world to answer them.”
I narrowed my eyes again. “All the time, huh?” I didn’t know why I was being sassy to him. After everything he’d said, after knowing what and who he was, it was clear that snapping back was probably a bad idea.
But it was like I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, so this push and pull that we were doing, this game of will and wits made me brave.
He was silent for long moments, just watching me, my words hanging in the air between us. “For you I have all the fucking time in the world.”
His words—that declaration—did something funny and exciting to my insides.
