Chapter 40
LEAH
Marcus’s eyes flare before he gently lays a hand over mine. “I want you very badly,” he says huskily. “I want you more than they warned me I would, actually.”
My tattered heart leaps unsteadily in my chest.
“Warned you?”
His smile shows a hint of fang. “Of course they warned me. Mating with a mortal should not be possible.”
Every sense blares in alarm.
“You are so very mortal, Leah. I thought I would hate it. And yet, I like it. Today was the best day I have had in—centuries. Sweatpants are surprisingly comfortable. Buying things for you with stupid human money thrills me. I can’t wait to use the coffee machine.
I want to break things just so you will yell at me and tell me how to fix them. ”
Tears spill over again. Fissures open in my chest.
“I was not supposed to want you, and yet, I find myself unable to let you go.” He runs a thumb across my cheek, picking up the moisture there.
“I want to tell you that you should find someone after me, that you should be happy.” He bares his teeth.
“Perhaps I should be a better man, but generosity is overrated, and I’m not a man.
I have no desire to share what’s mine with others. ”
His.
I lean into his touch. Marcus’s hand at my waist urges me upward. His mouth finds my pulse, teeth scraping, tongue possessive over the ridge of my shoulder.
“Seal it with me, Leah. Let me have eighty years with you. The last and best eighty years of my life.”
I want him so badly, more than I even let on. My fingers twist in his shirt. My lids flutter shut.
Eighty years.
I push him backward. “Eighty years?”
His eyes flare, like he knows he shouldn’t have said that. “Yes,” he agrees warily.
“What do you mean, eighty years? You’re immortal.”
“Ignore it,” he says and steps forward. I back into the counter and plant a hand on his chest.
“Leah,” he coaxes.
“What did you mean?”
He shuts his eyes, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “If we seal the bond, then I will die when you do.”
My chest cracks. “What?” I duck away, panicked that I might accidentally seal it. “Marcus, no.” My eyes dart for the stairs where the duct tape is, like it can save me from having his blood forced down my throat.
“Once, you would have thrilled at the thought of my death.” His words are softly teasing, and my vision blurs. Marcus is everything I want and nothing I can have.
He stalks me through the kitchen, herding me unconsciously like the predator he is, until I’m backed against the counter again, and I have to put my hands up to ward him off. My magic sparks at my fingertips. I choke a sound. Now is so not the time.
“Look at you,” he says, voice thick. “So powerful.”
“Stop,” I tell him raggedly. Saying the word takes every effort. I want him so badly that my hands fist and magic crackles, like sparklers going off between my fingers. “Go, Marcus. Leave.”
“No.”
I grab for the knife I used to chop tomatoes. It’s not a dagger, but it will do. I raise it between us, point to his chest. I can barely see. He’s just a broad blur in front of me.
“Get out,” I say unsteadily. “I won’t let you kill yourself for me—” My voice cracks, and I take an unsteady inhale. “Please, vampire,” I beg.
“Marcus,” he corrects gently before he bends and places his mouth at my ear.
His breath tickles the lobe. The tip of the knife pushes into his pectoral, and I sob a helpless sound.
“My perfect, lovely mate,” he breathes. His lips find the edge of my jaw.
“You can stab me, but I’m not going anywhere. ”