heavy locks over my shoulder. “A few more times?” I give him a coy smile, and his gorgeous blue eyes twinkle.
“Naturally, the number of times is up to you, Miss…” His dark brow furrows. “I don’t know your last name.”
I quickly scan the suite looking for something I only vaguely spotted when we entered—before he had me against the wall. There it is.
“You have a Jacuzzi.” My chin drops and I lift an eyebrow. “We should test it out.”
He smiles, revealing straight white teeth. He really is perfect. I feel a strange surge of pride over the few ounces of his blood I’ve stolen, a peculiar possessiveness of him buzzes in my veins.
“So it’s like that?” He levels that steely gaze on me, and it’s breathtaking.
“You’re a private investigator?”
“Yes, Melissa.”
“Last names aren’t a good idea.” I can never explain the fucked up nature of my existence, and anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s my last fling, my final heavenly indulgence before I accept my fate and return to Baltimore to die.
He doesn’t move as he watches me. I wait while he weighs my words against the mind-blowing experience we shared only moments ago. He’ll either insist on knowing more, in which case I’ll leave, or he’ll accept my answer.
“You want to test out my Jacuzzi?” I release the breath I’m holding with a grin and a nod. “Give me a sec.”
He pushes off the mattress, and I watch his perfect ass flex as he crosses the beige marble floor to the large tub. Two low steps lead to it, and he sits on one as he opens the faucets.
No need to worry he’ll change or be like me. We didn’t complete the ritual. I only have him inside me. He doesn’t have me in him. I didn’t force him to drink from my veins the way I was forced. I didn’t rape his only hope away.
I, on the other hand, am running out of time to complete my transition. I have to kill or die. I’ve already decided which it will be.
Leaning on one elbow, he reaches out to me, and I stifle a gasp. His body is Michelangelo’s Adam, reaching out for the hand of God. Only he’s reaching out to a devil.
Horror and guilt hit me like a freight train. My chin drops, sending a dark curtain across my cheek, but I know he saw the change in my expression. I hear him crossing back to the bed at once.
“What’s wrong?” Concern fills his voice. “Melissa, look at me.”
He catches my chin, and my eyes travel over his olive skin, his smooth muscles, the light dusting of hair on his chest. I have to leave. Now.
I can’t believe I would risk my one hope at escaping my fate—not only that, I risked his very life! Has my animalistic nature truly become so strong? I stole from him. I bit him. I can’t rationalize this away any more. I’m too weak to fight my lusts. I’m lost.
His hands are on my shoulders, pulling me onto his lap. “Stop,” he orders.
I try to resist his arms, but he’s stronger than me. Or I’m too weak to fight him.
His stern voice continues. “Whatever you’re saying to yourself, stop it.”
I shake my head. “We can’t do this, Derek. It’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong. It’s fast.” His chin drops, and I watch as he collects his thoughts. I confess, I’m incredibly curious as to what he might say next. “I’m sure this is new for you. Hell, it’s new for me.” His eyes fix on mine, and his expression is so earnest and lovely. “Don’t shut us down yet. Give us a chance.”
“You don’t know me,” I argue. “We don’t know each other—”
“So let me get to know you.” He takes my hand carefully in his. “I want to know your mind the way I already know your body.”
His blood sings in my veins, and my eyes close at the sensation. Tasting him has only made him harder to resist.
“We don’t have time.”
“We have plenty of time.” He smooths my hair back, cupping my cheek with his large palm. “My life has been so empty these last six years. This is the first time I’ve wanted to live.”
Oh, god, the terrible irony. “You want to live?”
“I’m not explaining it right. I’m jumping ahead.” He takes both my cheeks in his hands, and looks deep into my eyes. “But you feel it, too. I know you do. Please stay.”
I want to cry. My heart is breaking