10. Sleeping with the Enemy
Chapter ten
Sleeping with the Enemy
Nicolette
I tiptoed into Julian’s room, ready for bed. I still couldn’t believe I’d agreed to “sleep” with him. But the revelation that he wanted to be human again had thrown me completely off-balance. And perhaps it gave me a sliver of hope—hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to turn into a murderer after all.
Still, I wasn’t convinced it was even possible to “cure” a vampire.
While the plasma therapy my mother had created helped manage their .
. . symptoms, for lack of a better word, it didn’t reverse what they were.
Julian’s condition wasn’t a disease. If anything, it behaved more like a genetic mutation—something that had fundamentally altered their DNA and cellular pathways.
But could a mutation like that be reversed?
Could plasma act as a delivery system for some kind of gene therapy, assuming I was right about the mutation in the first place?
It wasn’t impossible. Plasma could carry proteins, viral vectors, or engineered molecules capable of altering gene expression.
And if my mother’s treatment already stabilized their metabolism, maybe it was interacting with their genome in ways we hadn’t fully understood.
There was only one way to find out.
I would have to analyze Julian’s blood.
And to do that, I needed to stay alive. Which meant I needed to smell like my husband. That felt so base and wrong. But I had to remind myself I was dealing with an entirely different culture—perhaps an entirely different species—than my own.
I stared at Julian’s room. It wasn’t at all what one would expect from a vampire.
No coffins, no dark velvet curtains, no dramatic candelabras.
Instead, it was the complete opposite—light, inviting, with huge windows that flooded the space with daylight.
His bedding was even white. And on the wall hung several Georgia O’Keeffe florals. Originals, no doubt.
Julian waltzed out of his bathroom wearing nothing but boxer shorts, his perfectly sculpted body on full display.
Sinewy lines, tapered waist, rippled abs.
I wished I could say I didn’t want to literally throw myself at him, but that would’ve been a lie.
He called to me in ways I didn’t even know were possible.
I had to grip the doorframe just to keep myself from launching at him.
How I was supposed to sleep next to that and not make a complete fool of myself was beyond me.
I was absolutely going to morph into take-me-now Barbie.
While I openly ogled him, Julian grimaced—at me, or more specifically, at what I was wearing.
“Sweats?” he groaned. “You do realize the point here is for you to smell like me, not for your clothing to.”
“Well, you’re cold, and you know how I get around you. The sweats are my only line of defense here.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, tone low and steady. “I will defend you. I won’t allow you to do anything you’ll regret. So, please change.”
He pointed toward the large stack of unopened wedding gifts in the corner.
I’d been dreading that task—especially the thank-you cards that would feel trite and like more lies.
“I’m sure there’s some more appropriate nightwear in one of the boxes,” he added far too casually.
“If you think I’m wearing lingerie, you’re out of your mind.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the picture of long-suffering. “Why must you be so stubborn? I made certain to purchase a heated bed before we married, just in case you ever decided to like me. And I give you my word I’ll go no further than is necessary.”
“Well, the heated bed thing was very considerate of you,” I admitted, “but when you say ‘necessary,’ what exactly do you mean? Because you are very exposed. That’s a lot of nonclinical nakedness.”
He barked out a laugh. “If it will help you feel better, you can think of this as clinical. A necessary treatment.”
“You’re avoiding listing specifics.”
“Nicolette, I will not do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And we will ease into it. All right?”
“I’m uncomfortable with this entire thing.”
“Well, then you must decide. What makes you the most uncomfortable? Me or my family.”
“Ugh, fine. I will wear the T-shirt and shorts I have under my sweats.” You had better believe I’d layered up.
Julian just shook his head and climbed into bed.
Meanwhile, I turned off every light and made sure the curtains were shut tight before removing my top layer.
“Are you aware I can see in the dark?” Julian sounded way too pleased with himself.
Dang vampires.
But it made me wonder. “Why would you want to give up all your superpowers and be human again?”
“Join me and I’ll tell you.”
I steeled myself, knowing I had no other viable options, before carefully turning down the covers on my side of the bed. All the while, I mentally begged myself not to throw myself at him like some shameless, hormone-drunk maniac.
I held my breath—as if that would help—and before I could lose my nerve, I jumped into the bed and yanked the covers over me, planting myself on the very edge, as far from Julian as physically possible.
But apparently that wasn’t what he had in mind.
Before I could react, Julian moved with that unnerving superhuman speed of his, wrapping an arm around me from behind and pulling me firmly into the middle of the mattress.
I had to admit, the bed was warm and ridiculously comfortable .
. . minus the cool, rock-hard body I suddenly found myself pressed against.
A body I wanted to explore. So much so that I clenched my fists, hating how much I wanted him. I had to keep reminding myself that sex with him meant risking obsession. That was the last thing I needed.
“Breathe, Nicolette,” Julian whispered against my ear, tightening his hold. “You’re safe.”
Safe was the last thing I felt. Being this attracted to him against my will was disconcerting enough, but knowing his retractable fangs were inches from my neck didn’t exactly give me warm fuzzies.
I took a few shallow breaths, trying to see if I could settle against my husband.
This night could very well change the course of my marriage—and my life.
If by some medical miracle I could offer Julian what he really wanted, he would need to give me my wish: freedom.
Freedom from him and his world. But first I needed to play my part so his family would think we were every bit the loving couple we were pretending to be.
“There you go. Just breathe,” Julian coaxed.
My breaths grew deeper and longer as I fought off the urge to turn around in his arms and consummate this unholy union. Julian must have sensed it—my pulse was practically broadcasting it. He caught my hands, holding them gently but firmly.
“I’m not going to let you do anything you’ll hate yourself for,” he murmured.
I clung to his hands as if they were a lifeline.
Once upon a time, I’d actually believed they were.
What. An. Idiot. “Maybe it would help if you told me your story. And be sure to throw in any tidbits about your world that might be helpful. You know, things like, Hey, honey, my family are all a bunch of sex detectors. Useful information like that.”
Julian chuckled softly. “I am sorry. I should have better prepared you for my world. I suppose I didn’t wish you to be any more frightened than you already were.”
“What I don’t know scares me more.”
“You are wise, Nicolette.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.
I wouldn’t have gone that far, given my current situation, but I didn’t argue.
“So, are there any other superhuman powers I should know about? X-ray vision? Flying? Mind reading? Turning a banana into a real phone?”
Julian laughed—actually laughed—so loudly that it startled me. I didn’t know he was capable of that. He always carried himself with this air of seriousness and decorum, like he’d been born wearing a three-piece suit.
“You really are surprising, Nicolette. I enjoy your humor.”
“So . . . no to the phone thing?”
“We do not possess the power to turn fruit into phones,” he said dryly.
“Nor can we fly. But we can jump unusually high and cross great distances in a single leap. No X-ray vision or mind reading. Though many of us have lived long enough that reading emotions, expressions, physiological changes, and body language has become second nature. So you should be careful around my kind.”
“Duly noted. I guess I should probably be more ‘wifely’ around you, then.”
“Yes. Many have noticed your lack of affection—and, on occasion, your disdain for me.”
“Oh,” I squeaked, only now realizing how dangerous that had been on my part. No wonder Bianca had been ready to serve me on toast today.
“I’ve done my best to explain your behavior as nerves,” Julian said, “and as you being upset that I didn’t take you on a honeymoon.”
I bit my lip. “I guess we should’ve done that, huh? Or at least pretended to.”
“It was a miscalculation on my part,” he admitted. “I didn’t wish to make you more uncomfortable. Yet it seems I’ve managed precisely that once again.”
His remorseful tone caught me off guard. That didn’t mean I was letting my guard down. I didn’t trust him—not yet—but I knew I had to play this game smarter.
“I will be a better actress . . . in public,” I added pointedly.
“You are doing an excellent job of acting now.” He brushed a kiss against my cheek and lingered. “Look how well you’ve settled in my arms.”
I hadn’t even noticed, but somewhere in the middle of our conversation, I had calmed.
“Just trying to survive,” I stammered, instantly back on high alert. His lips on my skin were a powerful aphrodisiac, and my body was not helping my brain.
“You will live, Nicolette. That I promise.” His voice softened, almost reverently. “Now it is time for the story I promised you. A story I hope will convince you to help me reclaim a life worth living.”
It better be some story.