Chapter 23
Cinnamon, as it turned out, was an absolute fucking nightmare.
Perhaps that made her easier to tolerate, because she reminded Laurent a little of himself.
Good looking on the outside, but a terror within.
He tried to remind himself of that when he found the corner of an antique chair leg gnawed to bits.
Or one of his favorite rugs ripped to shreds.
Lily was with Cinna most of the time. She did well to clean up her messes, and Vittorio helped, too.
But sometimes the puppy got out of sight.
It was easy to get lost in a large manor.
The crate was kept in Lily’s room. Cinna had yipped her head off, crying bloody murder the first night.
The second was a little better. The third, he hadn’t heard a peep.
He stood at the large window on the first floor landing, arms clasped behind him.
The back grounds stretched out before him.
He watched Lily and Cinna in the garden outside.
Four days and already the puppy had grown.
Four days and Lily looked happier than he’d seen her…
ever. Except, perhaps, in those photos he’d dragged up.
His gaze traced Lily as she and Cinna chased each other.
She was trying to teach the puppy to play fetch, but so far Cinna had only given a couple of hops after the ball before getting distracted.
Lily moved the ball in front of Cinna’s nose, then gave it a little toss.
Cinna bobbed toward it, then spun in a circle and plopped down.
“Cinna, no!” Her voice wasn’t scolding, but exasperated. “You’re supposed to chase it.”
“You’re smiling. Did you realize?” Zola appeared beside him.
His expression wiped clean. “I don’t smile.”
“Apparently you do.” He cut a glare in Zola’s direction. She shrugged. After a few more moments where both of them watched Lily and Cinna, she added, “You did good, getting her the dog. She’s happy.”
“I hope to keep her that way.” He felt Zola’s stare boring into him. “What?”
“Don’t hurt her, Laurent.”
“I have no intention—“
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“Hurting her is the farthest thing from my mind.” Zola’s gaze lingered before turning back to Lily.
“How are you holding up?” he thought to ask.
“Careful. You sound like you might care.”
“Zola,” he growled.
“All it took was a little guilt and a few baking lessons—“
“Zola, enough!”
Her laughter was all that remained, floating in the air as she darted off.
He lingered on the landing, watching Lily for a few minutes longer before disappearing down the hall.
As usual, he met Vittorio in the kitchen at eight sharp. The ingredients he’d requested were already set out. He removed the folded recipe from his pocket and smoothed it on the counter. “I should be fine for this one.”
“Of course, sire.”
He was already anticipating her company.
Dare he admit, eager? Things had shifted between them.
She wasn’t pushing him away anymore, and the more she gave of herself, the more he selfishly wanted.
Last night, an entire hour had passed with them in comfortable companionship.
He watched her eat the banana muffins he’d made, then play with Cinnamon on the floor.
He’d been content to sit silently and soak up her presence.
At the kitchen island, he busied himself, feeling more comfortable than ever in this environment.
Vittorio sat with a glass of wine, observing with carefully laced amusement.
He measured everything, poured the batter into a bread pan, then poured himself a glass of wine as well, taking a seat to wait out the hour.
“You sent Zola to search for the demon nest?” Vittorio asked, bringing up the latest development in their efforts to uncover what was happening.
“I don’t expect her back tonight. But if anyone can find them, it is her.”
“I do not have a good feeling about it, sire.”
Neither did he, but he wouldn’t voice his concerns just yet. Instead, he steered the conversation away, talking of Lily and Cinnamon. Vittorio spent more time with her than anyone, and he hated to admit his growing jealousy. She was comfortable around Vittorio in a way that drove him to try harder.
A timer went off and he surged to his feet, eager to get the loaf of lemon blueberry bread iced.
As it cooled, he made Lily’s hot chocolate, then loaded everything on a tray.
When he reached her door, he hesitated. Her giggles on the other side made his lips twitch.
He listened to the way she cooed at Cinna while they were alone.
When he could wait no longer, he knocked.
“Come in,” she called, her voice bright with excitement. His heart did that annoying thing again where it fluttered. He ignored it, entering her chambers.
He caught sight of her sprawled on her belly. His gaze lingered on the length of her bare legs. The way her sleep shorts barely covered her panties. She wore a matching silky top that hugged her curves in a way that had him tracing them.
Her head snapped in his direction. When her gaze lingered, taking him in, he all but preened. He liked it—her attention. He liked it a lot.
“Hi,” she breathed, then turned back to Cinna.
His chest expanded, muscles relaxing. Breathing when it wasn’t necessary. “How is she doing tonight?”
“I almost taught her to shake.”
“Indeed? May I see?” He strode over and set the tray down, taking a seat on the sofa to watch.
“All right, Cinna, let’s show him.” She got up on her knees and positioned Cinnamon into a sitting stance, then reached her hand out and said, “Cinna, shake.” Cinna’s head tilted. “Shake,” she said again. Cinna yapped, then darted away to grab a toy.
Lily laughed. The full-bodied sound made his stomach lurch. He stared at her, mesmerized. How had he ever thought her anything but beautifully devastating?
“Okay, well, she almost did it earlier. I guess we need a little more work, don’t we darling?” She snatched Cinna into her arms and hugged her, then released her to go play.
A pinch of irrational jealousy made him glance away from the puppy. Because that was ridiculous. He didn’t get jealous of dogs. Didn’t get jealous, period.
Lily stood, her movements growing hesitant. She glanced at him and then at the tray. “I’m hungry,” she whispered, her throat bobbing.
He leaned forward, almost unintentionally, as if his body was trying to get closer to her. It had been four days. He’d wondered how long it would be until she would want to feed again. He’d selfishly hoped it would happen sooner than later.
Remaining calm, he casually planted his forearms on his knees. “Which would you like first, little flower?”
Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. He traced the movement, unable to stop himself. It was answer enough, even if she didn’t know it.
He surged to his feet. In a single blink, he was behind her.
She gasped, going perfectly still. He’d been careful to avoid things like this, moving quickly and scaring her.
But the transformation he’d witnessed over the past few days—he took his chances.
He was rewarded when no scent of fear met his nose.
Only eagerness and the spicy tang of her growing arousal.
That alone sent his brain into a tailspin.
He bit into his wrist and held it in front of her. He wanted this. To feed her. To give her something only he could provide. To feel the pleasure that had at first surprised him.
She sucked in a breath and pulled his wrist to her mouth.
The warmth of her tongue had heat shooting up his arm.
The first drag made him groan. Delight exploded outward from his chest, downward, pooling at the base of his cock.
His balls tightened—an unexpected shock that had caught him off guard that first time.
“That’s it, little flower,” he crooned, his lips against her ear. She shivered at the feel of him. “Take what you want. It’s yours. Only yours.” His hand lifted, running through her long hair. So soft. So thick and beautiful. He let his cheek rest against it, rubbing.
She was tall for a female. Only a few inches shorter than him. He liked that.
A deep sound came from her. He tightened everywhere. Fuck.
For long minutes, she lost herself to feeding, gulping him down and taking him inside her.
He dragged her against him to better feel her.
To smell her. He found her neck, running his nose along it, and growled.
She didn’t stop, didn’t stiffen at his touch.
The remaining blood in his body dropped straight to his dick.
“Fuck,” he hissed, angling his hips away—
It had been centuries since he’d gotten hard, longer still since he’d lost control of himself. Ice replaced heat. He immediately sobered. What the fuck was he doing with his teeth at her neck, ready to bite?! He pulled his head back, putting his fangs away.
Lily hadn’t noticed, thank the gods.
She let out a little mewl, then another.
He pressed his lips between his teeth, fighting for control.
He liked her little noises. Liked them a great deal.
His wrist began to close, the supply diminishing.
He smelled her arousal—it made his dick painfully harder.
She had to be dripping by now, her panties soaked.
He didn’t allow his hand to drift downward, didn’t give in to the temptation to feel her.
When was the last time he’d bothered with the carnal act humans enjoyed? He couldn’t recall. It was as foreign as the erection straining his pants.
His mind was lost. Out of control.
What would she feel like inside? Tight and warm and wet? What would it be like, taking her blood into himself while burying himself in her? What would her cunt taste like if he spread her thighs wide, feasted between them? A frustrated growl rose, rumbling his chest.
This wasn’t him. He didn’t lose control. He needed to pull himself together.