Page 38 of His Eternal Temptation

“I heard you crying yesterday,” Cris said without feeling. “What was it this time?”

“Nothing.” Rowan’s gut twisted with shame.

“You weren’t lonely?” Even without seeing his face, the sneer was evident.

“No,” Rowan said with more determination than before.

“You’re such a liar. A pathetic little liar. Do you honestly need to be surrounded by people all the time? Never alone, even in your own house?”

Rowan trembled, glad Cris wasn’t looking at him for once. He didn’t bother pointing out that this was Cris’s house, not his. Or that he’d been alone for weeks and was going out of his mind.

He didn’t want to be abandoned again.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

“Why can’t you be what I want?” Cris turned then, disgust twisting features Rowan had once believed beautiful.

Rowan’s gut wrenched. “I’m trying.”

“And failing.”

Cris had turned Rowan into a vampire to be his companion, and Rowan thought that meant Cris would love him. Now he wondered if this torment had been Cris’s intent all along.

Why was he still desperately trying to please a monster?

ELEVEN

LANE

An aching sob filled Lane’s ears. He blinked awake, greeted by Rowan’s dark bedroom. The mattress shook, and the sound of sodden tears grew louder. Lane rolled over.

Rowan thrashed in his sleep, whimpering, his brow shining with sweat, tears covering his cheeks.

“Rowan?” Lane sat up, but he didn’t respond. Lane called out louder, and Rowan gave an agonized cry.

“Fuck.” Lane pushed a hand through his hair. He clasped Rowan’s bare shoulder, his skin hot. “Rowan, wake up.”

He struggled, and Lane tightened his grip, speaking louder. “Rowan, you’re all right. Wake up.”

His eyes flew open, their orange glow illuminating the haunted look on his face.

Lane firmed his grip. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Rowan glanced wildly around, pushing Lane off, and jolting into a sitting position. Lane expected him to snap, tell him to fuck off, to go away.

Silence filled the room.

Rowan wiped his face, attention catching on his tear-streaked hand as if he didn’t understand.

Lane’s chest ached. Perhaps he should give Rowan privacy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that ducking into the bathroom was akin to abandoning him.

Eventually, Rowan’s breathing evened out, and Lane said softly, “Would you like to talk about it?”

“What do you think?” His voice came out thick, lacking its usual bite.

“I think it would help.”

Rowan faced him. The glow in his eyes snuffed out, making it difficult to read his expression. Lane gave him the chance to speak without pushing. He suspected Rowan hadn’t found their trip to the club relaxing, and another nightmare proved the point. Rowan wasn’t okay.