Page 16 of Threads of Crimson 2

“It’s nothing,” he growled, stomping toward his desk chair. I’d never seen the man do anything but glide, so it was startling. “I have a fledgling who’s impossible, a rogue vampire out there doing who knows what to unsuspecting humans, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I asked curiously. Lysandro was revealing more of himself since Ego showed up than I think he meant to. Or maybe it wasn’t the new vamp showing up, but maybe the fact I’d initiated intimacy during every feeding since he kindly jacked me off had him up in his head.

Lysandro tilted back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. “Both.”

Since his plan seemed to be to avoid me, I got up and sauntered over to him, plopping myself onto his lap. His arms locked around my waist automatically, and I wasn’t sure he realized it, so I bit back a smile so as not to spook him.

“Explain, please.”

“I promised not to interfere in any area of vampire law as long as the council left me alone to live my life quietly and peacefully. They’ve respected that agreement for the last couple hundred years, and I want to maintain that. If I tread too closely to the line…” He hissed like he was ready to go on the attack now.

Cupping his head, I scratched his scalp. “Why are they so interested in you? Is it your age?”

He snorted. “You’re so impressed by how old I am, but the head of the council is even older than me.”

That made me pause. “Older?”

For the first time since he returned, his lips twitched in amusement. “Did you think I was the oldest?”

“Well…” I hadn’t actually given it any thought at all. “In all my years at Velvet Vein and around Ronan, I’ve never heard anyone mention the council at all until you.”

He smirked, a flash of his extended canines winking at me. It felt like the damn things were winking at me, flirting with me, making me want to get naked and bare my neck to Mr. Cranky.

“Mortals are such interesting creatures. So many thirst for the absurd instead of the things that truly matter. But not you.” He held me a little tighter. “You're smart and inquisitive. You notice little things so many others miss.”

“Probably because of the way I grew up.”

He scowled so hard that I hoped there was no way for him to get his hands on the names of the foster families I’d been placed with. He’d been drawing more information from me about my past since we’d moved to the neck feedings, and he was less than impressed with some of the situations I’d endured.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he stated flatly. He inhaled deeply—a sign that he needed a moment to temper himself since he didn’t actually need the air. “But even you miss it.”

“Miss what?” I asked curiously. I yearned to know more about Lysandro and his life, which meant learning more about the world he was so desperate to stay away from.

He nuzzled onto the side of my neck, and I gasped. I felt his lip pull into a smile against my skin, and he dragged his fangs slowly across my flesh. Since he’d fed last night, I knew he wouldn’t tap me again, ever conscious of my health, so I sat for a moment, enjoying the fact that Lysandro was initiating closeness for the sake of being close.

“Are you going to tell me?” I whispered after a few moments.

He chuckled darkly. “My Benji. You never miss an opportunity to research my kind.” He nipped my neck, licking up the side and moaning.

Gah. I wanted him so bad. I wanted to be naked on his bed with his hands all over me. Surely that would put him in a better mood, but now that we’ve progressed past him acting like I was nothing but a donor, I wanted to be more than just a courtesan.

Maybe it was a human construct in my own mind that the title was nothing more than beauty, money, and social standing, but I wanted to be his everything. His person, his boyfriend, his love, or however else we could express the ultimate commitment between two beings.

Wanting to know, wanting to know what he was thinking, I squirmed back, cupped his face between my hands, and stared into his eyes. “Lysandro.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. The council rarely deals with Damien because he’s the head of the most powerful syndicate in our world.”

“Syndicate?” I asked, confused.

He arched a brow. “Think your perception of the mafia.”

I almost fell off his lap. “Damien’s a criminal?”

Lysandro’s face went slack. “You…don’t…think…we’re…all…criminals?” he asked slowly.

“Of course not, silly.”

My words didn’t seem to clear up his confusion, if the baffled expression on his face was anything to go by. I didn’t think I liked that expression any more than the thunder clouds he’d walked in wearing. Maybe he’d had the right idea before, and it was time for a distraction.