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Gwen swallowed the lump of emotions that was lodged in her throat. She didn’t look away from him. She didn’t shift or squirm. She wanted to listen…to see. She wanted to absorb the full weight of everything he was telling her.
“I wish you to know what I am, Gwendolyn. How I became what I am. I am the dead reborn not because it was forced upon me, but because I chose this existence. It is why we are hated. Why others fear us and keep their distance. They cannot understand our desire. Unlike other immortal creatures, we’re not born of pure magick, nor are we chosen by the Fates. We are torn from carnage and reborn of death. We choose to be as we are. I chose to be a vampire.”
Gwen cringed as he said it, even though she’d known it was coming. He was telling her again that she was naive for not seeing what everyone else could see. For not running scared every time he came into the room. She struggled to form words as her heart ached.
“Do you regret it?” The question slipped out more easily than she’d anticipated.
His jaw clenched, the way it always did when he was frustrated, but it soon relaxed. “No,” he told her with that unwavering certainty of his. “I do not regret my choice. I never have.”
Gwen looked into his face. She could only guess that he assumed she thought less of him because of it, but the opposite was true. Her heart hurt when she thought of the man he once was, lying dying and broken. When she thought of all that he’d suffered as a mortal.
As she met his eyes, one thing became clear to her. She knew if that man had chosen to become a vampire over death, then his life had not been one of peace. He’d not wanted to die, and it wasn’t simply because he’d feared death. Gwen doubted he’d ever feared death.
It was a selfish thing to think in that moment, but she savored it deep in her mind and heart. Maybe this moment was not predetermined by the Fates or destiny, but she couldn’t help but be grateful for the choice he’d made all those centuries ago. If he hadn’t, she would have never known him, and she knew without a doubt she would have felt that loss forever, even if she’d never entirely understand what piece of her was missing.
She let out a deep, steadying breath, barely registering the hard-falling snow around them. “I don’t know why I wasn’t afraid of you,” she began, the words coming all on their own. “At first, it just didn’t really dawn on me to be. But then everyone kept looking at me weird because I wasn’t. I tried to convince myself that I should be afraid, but it never really happened. Then I thought my dream had somehow kept me from seeing it.”
His gaze didn’t waver. His expression was stoic and unflinching. “I felt it though,” she admitted, a touch embarrassed. “I’d get this tingle over my skin and a chill that ran up my back. I knew you were dangerous, even if I didn’t fully know.” Sirus’s jaw clenched, but she kept on going. She needed to say this. “It wasn’t until that night in the mirrors that I understood exactly what it was.” He nodded, and his eyes broke from her as he turned to look straight ahead. Her heart thumped against her ribs. “The way your eyes turned black…”
Sirus tensed. His whole body went rigid at her words, and she hated them. She hated that he responded this way. Gwen could almost taste the contradiction. It was sour and foul. The magickal world thought him lesser for his choice and what he was, and he believed them. It made her angry. Angry with the world. Angry with him.
“I was never afraid of you, Sirus,” she declared. “Not even after that night.” Her fingers were mindlessly running over that place along her arm where her own scar lay. It was faint now. Only a jagged white line.
His eyes darted down to the water, as if he could see what she was doing. Ice, rigid and cold, fell over him. He shifted. Maybe he wasn’t going to leave, but Gwen couldn’t bear the thought of it. She grabbed his arm to still him. The moment their skin touched, a crackle of energy skittered through her, and she saw a flash of blue.
“I don’t think I could ever be afraid of you,” she breathed.
His brows furrowed, and there was an agony in his expression that was so raw it made her ache. His jaw tightened, and she felt him tense beneath her touch. Gwen couldn’t help it. She reached her fingers up and ran them over the edge of his beard and along his cheek, willing the tension away. When he closed his eyes, there was both a pain and pleasure to it. She ran her fingers over the coarse, short hair along his jaw. When her thumb brushed his lower lip, his eyes shot open. No longer ice, but dark and liquid. A growl rumbled from deep in his chest, and her body flushed from scalp to toe. Her breath hitched. His eyes fell to her lips. The air crackled with electricity.
Gwen had thought it was her, but she knew then it wasn’t. She could feel the need radiating off of him in delicious waves of heat. As if he were a lion on a leash, threatening to be set free. She wanted him free.
She let her hand fall from his face and onto his shoulder, gauging his response. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t move an inch as she slid her hand down over his chest, feeling the muscles and brush of soft hair as she did. He shifted, the movement fluid and quick. Sirus wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up, his fingers digging into her skin, pulling her closer.
Gwen braced her hands against his chest in surprise. She felt his growl beneath her palms as it reverberated through him and out into the frozen morning air. Her core grew liquid and hot, her skin no longer itching but burning with anticipation.
Sirus dipped lower and pulled her closer so that their faces were equal height, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin amongst the tendrils of heat rising form the spring. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. His voice was racked. Like a man on the verge of falling into the abyss.
Gwen knew if she told him no he would let her go in an instant. If he let her go now, she might sink below the surface of the spring and never emerge again. She might have said something if she could have. As it was, all she could do was nod.
That’s all it took. He was slow in pulling her into him. Like he was savoring it. He growled again, low and dark. The moment his lips were on hers, it was like the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was fire and electricity. Satisfaction and relief. She wanted more.
Sirus’s whole body burned with a desire he feared could never be sated. He doubted countless lifetimes of tasting Gwendolyn would ever satisfy the bottomless hunger he had for her.
He’d not realized how fully it had consumed him until his lips were on hers. The shock and fire lit him up from the inside out like an explosion. He should be gentle, he knew that in the back of his mind, but he wanted her so badly. He’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted her.
His fingers dug into her back as he pulled her body flush against his. She was soft and delicate where he was firm and sharp. It was everything. Against his chest, he could feel the slight touch of the fabric around her breasts, and it only made him pull her closer. When she slid her tongue over his lip, it broke him. He opened his mouth to her wicked tongue and groaned at the taste of her—sweet, with a hint of earthy chocolate. Gwendolyn whimpered a soft sound of satisfaction as Sirus’s tongue met hers with force. She did not shy away from him, and it sent a shiver up his spine. Never had he let the whole of himself go in the throes of passion. He’d never felt it safe. He’d never felt it welcome. With Gwendolyn, he wondered.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and matching his hunger with her own. Challenging him silently. Give me everything. I want all of you.
How long their kiss lasted, he had no idea. An eternity, a moment. When she ran her hands through his damp hair, he broke away to spread hot, desperate kisses along her jaw, her neck. Gwendolyn gasped a moan, arching her back into his hands when he raked his teeth over those freckles he loved so much. His cock throbbed, hard and wanting between them. He’d been so desperate to taste that spot again. So desperate to hear those sweet sounds. His chest swelled at knowing he was the cause of those sounds. That he was bringing her pleasure.
Another growl escaped him, dark and urgent. He slid his hands down and pressed his fingers into her perfect round arse, yanking her up to straddle him. She took in a sharp breath of surprise, shoving her hands over his chest between them to steady herself. He held her firm against him, wanting her mouth, her tongue, her hands all over him. He wanted her skin against his. She held her distance for a moment, her eyes heavy-lidded, as if entranced, her mouth hanging open as she tore in harsh breaths, her lips swollen and red from their kisses.
Sirus carried her to the bench she’d been sitting on beneath the water and perched himself there, settling Gwendolyn over his lap. Hunger rioted through him, liquid and hot, as she gazed down at him. He pulled her hips closer, until her sex rubbed against his hard length, only a few little pieces of fabric keeping them apart. He wanted to show her what effect she had on him. She groaned a sweet little sound, her emerald eyes darkening, and ran herself over him. The noise he made was primal and base—not a growl or a moan, but something between. She did it again, teasing him. Teasing herself. It was the sexiest, most consuming thing he’d ever experienced. She did it again.
“Fuck, Gwendolyn,” Sirus breathed pleadingly before he took her mouth in another searing kiss.
For a while, that’s all they were. A tangled form of limbs and tongues and heat. She rubbed against him, and it took everything in him not to tear those scraps of fabric off of her and bury himself inside her with abandon.
