Page 23 of The Vampire’s Ballerina

“Pietro?” Her voice is tinged with sleep, her hand reaching up to cover mine.

“I’m here cara mia.” I bend down to kiss her forehead.

A slight smile appears on her face, and I can’t help but return it as I pull away.

Before I can get far , she reaches for me, tugging at me and making room for me beside her in the bed. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

Not ever.

She nods, and I pull her to my chest, arms encircling her. A sigh escapes her when our bare skin meets, chest to chest, and my hands roam her naked backside. The soft swell of her ass yields under my touch, and her sigh turns into a moan as I massage it, drawing her closer. Her chin rests on my sternum, and she gazes up at me, eyes bright and open wide as the final vestiges of sleep fade away.

My fingers play with the ends of her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Relaxed. Warm. Safe.” She kisses my chest before gazing at me again. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful.”

I won’t lie to her. She should know what her blood does to me, the effect it has on me—the effect she has on me.

She needs to know everything.

“How long did I sleep?” she asks.

“A few hours. It’s afternoon now.”

She raises her brows in surprise. “Really? That’s it?”

“If I’d taken more from you, then you’d need to sleep for longer. But I didn’t drink that much.”

“Why not?”

I swallow and press my lips together.

“If you need more, then you should drink more,” she insists. “I’m not frightened, Peter. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t need more, dolcezza. You gave me everything I needed.”

“Seriously, take more. I want you to.” She lifts her arm, offering me her wrist.

But I twine my fingers with hers and kiss the two tiny puncture marks where my fangs pierced her flesh this morning. “As tempting as you are, I am quite sated, and your blood will keep me sated for much longer than the blood of any other, even if I use more of my power reserves.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

I sigh and release her wrist, sliding my fingers into her hair and tilting her chin up so I can kiss her. Her sweet, plush lips part beneath the slightest brush of my tongue—lips that told me of her pleasure without inhibition, lips I long to see painted red not with lipstick, but with the blood she’s taken from me to quench her own thirst.

“You should dress and eat.” I leave her question unanswered for now. “Then I will explain,” I add, knowing she won’t tolerate my avoidance for long.

Her eyes search mine, and then she nods, darting forward for one more kiss before removing herself from my arms. It pains me to not have her right next to me, even though she’s but a mere blink away. It has been difficult enough to let her leave my side every morning this past week, and now that I’ve tasted her, that difficulty will only grow. As my chosen, instinct drives me to keep her near, to protect her and ensure she’s only mine.

Even more so because she is human.

I follow her across the room with my gaze fixed on her naked body. It lingers on the small curve of her ass, the petite swell of her breasts, and their rose-pink nipples. She exudes confidence and sexuality. She knows her assets, knows how to flaunt them, and knows how crazy they make me.

She disappears into the closet, and I rise to join her, leaning against the doorframe as I watch her dress. Her beautiful body disappears underneath another of my shirts—a light green one this time—the buttons undone to her cleavage and the sleeves rolled up to her wrists. She then hides her lithe legs beneath a pair of leggings I brought here for her before the wedding, a pair she’d left at my apartment one morning that I tucked away in a drawer for safekeeping.

She pulls her hair from the collar and gives it a shake before strolling over to me as I grab a plain white T-shirt to throw on. I’m used to more pristine, refined attire, especially as the director of a ballet company, but with her I can be casual. Messy. With her, I don’t need to be polished all the time.