Chapter 21 #3
“Not your decision to make.” I press the point of my tongue against my right fang, making myself bleed. The small pain grounds me, reminds me I’m in control. “Are you worried I would not enjoy his company?”
“I’m worried he wouldn’t enjoy being killed.”
I chuckle, the sound dark. “You wound me, Talulla.” Then I crack my knuckles, enjoying the way her pupils dilate at the sound. “I might have to punish you for your insolence.”
Her mouth turns to a thin line. “You promised.”
This is when I take her soft hands in mine, feeling her pulse under my fingers. “I just think if this Mr. Evans is going to take a lot of your time away from me, I should at least shake his hand.”
“Shake his hand? That’s it?”
“I don’t kill people for the pleasure of killing. Not anymore. Not without a purpose. I haven’t done it in a very long time, and I promised you I wouldn’t start now.”
The words are true. I’ve killed plenty in my long life—enemies, threats, people who deserved it and people who didn’t.
But I stopped killing for pleasure decades ago, stopped seeing humans as prey.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve survived this long, one of the reasons I haven’t lost myself completely to the monster.
“Okay, then.” She interlocks her fingers with mine. “I would love for you to meet Mr. Evans.”
We get the entrées and enjoy the dinner, conversing about everything and anything. It’s easy to talk to her. It always is. The bickering, the flirting, the sarcasm—it’s all part of our dance, the way we communicate without saying what we really mean.
I love you. I’m terrified of losing you. I would burn the world down to keep you safe.
But at the crème br?lée, I can’t help myself. I need to know. “I must admit, I was surprised you didn’t ask me to bite you.”
Her eyes go wide. She knows what I’m talking about. The reward. She could have asked for anything—for me to drink from her, to bite her, to mark her as mine in the most permanent way possible.
But she chose a human fantasy instead. She chose something that would remind me of my humanity, that would make me feel human with her.
A reward for her, and she still put me first.
The kind of fondness and connection we have is not just lust. It goes against everything we believe in, our values, everything she grew up thinking was the right thing to do. She was raised to kill vampires, and here she is, in love with one. Choosing one. Building a life with one.
“You would have said no,” she simply replies.
“I would have.” I finish my drink, the blood coating my throat. “I would have made your punishment more severe as well.”
Her face heats at the possibility of a worse outcome, and I can smell her arousal spike. She likes the idea of being punished, of being pushed, of being taken to her limits and beyond.
“I wanted us to have something—human,” she says quietly.
“My love,” I start, caressing the back of her hand up and down. I can see her skin getting goose bumps, can see her eyes close as she enjoys my touch. “What I’ll do to you is definitely not going to be human.”
Because it won’t be. What I have planned for tonight is pure vampire—the strength, the speed, the control, the dominance. I’m going to take her in ways that no human man could, going to push her body to limits that only supernatural stamina can reach.
I’m going to make her mine in every way possible.
We make our way toward the entrance of the restaurant, and I keep my hand on the small of her back.
It’s impossible for me not to touch her, not to maintain that physical connection.
Every man in this restaurant looks at her—at the red dress, at the way it hugs her curves, at the slit that shows her leg with every step.
I might be ready to break my promise and murder them all. Or bend her over right here and show every single moron in this room whose name she moans every night.
The possessive thoughts are dark and violent and completely sincere.
Nearing the doors, I feel more eyes on us. But as we both look in every direction, no one seems suspicious at all.
Maybe I’m getting paranoid. Maybe it was just men drooling over her. We did make quite the statement walking in like this—me in my Armani suit, her in that red dress, both of us radiating the kind of power that makes people nervous.
But I can’t shake the feeling. The sense that we’re being watched, that something is coming.
I’ll add more security when we get back. More cameras, more wards, maybe even hire additional guards.
I shake my head and try to bring my attention back to the night ahead of us as we reach the car. I open her door, playing the gentleman even though we both know what’s coming.
“Are you ready, my exquisite red ruby?” I ask, putting on her seat belt and grabbing her hand, kissing her palm.
“For what?”
A crooked smile grows on my lips. I can see the anticipation in her eyes, can smell her arousal, can hear her heart rate increasing.
“For what, Flynn?” she asks again, impatient and annoyed at the smirk on my face.
“To be fucked senseless, of course.”