His Captive Mortal A Vampire Romance - Renee Rose Page 0,48
try to tuck her head back into me, but she pulls her head free.
She seems to gather herself. “I’m sorry I was a….a brat about the blood.” She looks up with brave humility.
I let out a short bark of surprised laughter, not expecting such an apology. Of course, I hadn’t expected her to slap me, either. “You weren’t a brat.” All my previous irritation dissolves.
“Yes, I was. You needed to drink, didn’t you?”
I nod, once, not liking to admit any weakness, even to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t you fed?”
I draw a breath. “I guess I’m just a one-woman kind of man.” I shrug. “I always have been.”
She blinks up at me, the gold flecks in her eyes glimmering. “Do you mean…” she trails off, looking uncertain. “Because it’s sexual?”
“Yes. I’ve only wanted your blood since the night I first met you.”
“And I refused to give it to you.” Her voice is soft with regret.
I stroke her hair back from her face and put a finger under her chin to bring her gaze back to my face. “You were just scared.”
She swallows and nods. “I’m not anymore. I’m yours to take as you please.”
Her words go straight to my cock. I cradle her head and lay a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ve been telling you that since the day we met.”
She twines her arms around my neck and starts to bury her face in my shoulder, then jerks back with a gasp. “Oh my God,” she says.
I glance down at the dried blood from my cut. I pull my shirt back to show her. “Look at it,” I urge. “Vampires heal very quickly. You see how the flesh is already knit back together? Never worry about me.” I lift her in my arms as I stand. “I’ll take a shower. You need to get to bed. Please call in sick tomorrow. I don’t want you showing up to work on three hours’ sleep.”
“Yes, master,” she murmurs. I pull the covers back for her to crawl in, and she pulls me down by the shirt, kissing me. “Charlie?”
“Yes, little mortal?”
“If you’re mad at me, just punish me, okay?”
I draw my brows together. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I mean next time. Don’t walk out. I don’t like to be abandoned. I’d rather you stayed and yelled or...you know,” she says, fluttering her lashes.
“Tied you up and flogged your beautiful arse?”
She giggles and waggles said arse for me. I give her twin moons a few sharp slaps, then lean over and kiss each cheek.
“Sweet little mortal,” I murmur, my chest feeling crowded. I pull her jeans and panties off, then tug her t-shirt over her head and unlace the corset she’s still wearing from what seems like ages ago. “You’re on clothing restriction again. No clothing while in this house until further notice. Understand?”
She groans, but I can tell she loves it. “Even while you’re asleep?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Even while I’m asleep. Disobedience will be severely punished.”
“But isn’t that like, punishing you, too? I mean since you can’t…”
I touch her lips with the pad of my index finger. “An exquisite torture.” I leave her and walk to the bathroom to wash the blood off. I turn on the water and strip off my bloodied clothes. Stepping in, I close my eyes, and let the water splash over me.
I hear the door open and figure she wants to brush her teeth before bed, but the shower curtain opens, and she steps in.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she says softly.
My unmoving heart twists, and I open my arms. “Come here, little fairy.”
Chapter 12
Anka
He left her.
A panic like none she’d ever experienced filled her chest, threatening to drown her with its very nature.
No. Not Charles. Charles would never leave her. He loved her. He alone knew and loved the real Anka, flaws and all. He accepted her pride, ambition, moments of insecurity. He’d been her rock.
But Anais had just reported he’d taken Madame de Olivier as his consort, deliberately aligning with her greatest rival.
With a sweep of her arm, she cleared everything from her dressing table, bottles of eau de cologne and her articles of toilet flying off in all directions. How could this be? She would kill him. A stake through the heart. No, worse, she would torture him. Confine him with some form of silver to hold him—chains or a cage and keep him in her bedroom, forced to watch her every trique.
But that thought sickened her. She had