Alex chuckled, sending a delicious vibration through her. "The tying up comes later."
"I'm coming over there. Swear to God."
That got Helena's attention. She crawled to the phone. "Lace? Sorry, I was sleeping."
Her friend began to chatter about something that she could not understand, a TV show, something. Alex had crawled up behind her and was nibbling the backs of her thighs. The man bit her as much as he kissed her, and definitely didn't mind if she went feral on him. It was such a relief to just let go, to not think about every move she made in bed. She stifled a hiss at a particularly sharp bite and then melted under the soothing lick that followed. Another bite followed, higher on her thigh, white hot pain—but good somehow. Real good. Was she a masochist? But no, she liked to bite. Was she a sadist?
Maybe she and Alex were just a little twisted.
"Oh!" she blurted at the third hard bite. Alex chuckled again. "Oh! Wow! Wow, I'm so tired. Lace, I'll call you tomorrow." The phone fell out of her hand.
"I've never had so many orgasms in one day. Not even the day my vibrator, Mr. Stubby, arrived in the mail."
Alex laughed and pulled her closer. They lay spooned in front of the fire. He kept his nose buried in her straight, silky hair, trying not to snuffle her like a pug. She just smelled so damn good. "I'm flattered. I think."
"Oh definitely. Man triumphs over machine. If we get married, Mr. Stubby might have to be sent into retirement. A nice place in Florida somewhere."
If we get married. Joking. That was a good sign.
She twisted around to look at him, going serious all of a sudden. "Is this how you always have sex?"
"How's that?"
"Like a crazed, bloodthirsty rabbit."
He cupped one of her breasts, just to watch her eyes lose focus. "I've been crazed and I'm always bloodthirsty, but I've never wanted another rabbit like I want you."
That made her smile, and that moment, that was all he wanted in the world. "I feel free with you, Alex, like nothing is off limits and nothing can go wrong."
"That's what you call trust, darling."
"Guess so." She sat up. Something changed. She'd withdrawn. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat? We can send out for something better than pretzel sticks."
Here it was, the start of the difficulties. Complications that would only mount until she knew the truth. How was he even going to begin to explain? "I'm not hungry. But you are. Please, eat. I want you to eat. I'll sit with you."
"That would be too weird. How can you not be hungry? Men are always hungry."
"If we're getting married, you'll have to know about my eccentricities. One is that I don't eat much. Once a day is all."
"Why?"
"It's just how I am." He slipped an olive in her mouth to stop her questions. Then a cashew. Then a pretzel.
"What else?" She held the pretzel between her teeth like a cigar.
"Well, I have a fetish for oral sex. You'll have to submit to my tongue regularly."
"I don't know how I'll bear it."
"I'm also a nocturnal creature."
"That's okay. I'm a night owl too." A few heartbeats passed between them, then she said, "Is that it?"
Now? She was relaxed, open, receptive. On the surface. But underneath she was still judging him. Looking for something. What was it? He kissed her hand. "I can't reveal my secrets all at once. I'll lose my mysterious appeal."
"You have mysterious appeal to spare, Mr. Faustin."
Her eyes glimmered in the firelight, calling up his desire again. The taste of her blood was etched in cells, the need for it an addiction. When she'd begged him for release, he'd laid down his bets. There was no retreat now. Please let her understand.
"There's no great mystery to my appeal, darling." He rolled over her and slid his erection along her thigh.
"Oh no you don't, buster. I'm done for."
"But you want it." The scent of her arousal made his nostrils flare. He nuzzled her throat, longing to bite her again, but couldn't. He'd taken enough already for a day.
"Of course I want it. But I'm all worn out."
"You don't have to do a thing. This is dessert sex."
"Dessert sex?"
"Sweet, creamy, smooth, completely unnecessary, so totally decadent."
With a sigh she opened her legs, saying, "I may never walk again," and he slid in easily. They fit together so well now. They kissed lazily and whispered nonsense while he moved gently within her soft embrace.
Her heat warmed him more than the fire ever could. She touched his cheek and searched his eyes. Could she see the ways his eyes were different from a human's? Probably not. But maybe she knew he was holding back something. He kissed her and tried to explain without words that he did not hold back what was most important.
Afterward she took him by the hand and brought him back to her bed. "Now we sleep."
Instead of sleeping, he held her and watched the clock, running through different imaginary conversations with her, watching the moon set through her wispy curtains. Helena's limbs were twined around his, her breath a steady lullaby. She trusted him enough to sleep in front of him.
With a sigh, he kissed the top of her head and was grateful for that much. He'd seen inside her, just a barrage of sense impressions and flashing images, but enough to know how hard it was for her to trust anyone. The more he fed on her, the more he'd learn about her, and if she drank him, he'd open himself and let her see his stories too. Bonded couples knew their partners better than themselves. The bond was beautifully intimate, his parents said, but dangerous, because power came with that knowledge. The power to destroy the other with a well-placed word or a malicious thought.
Helena was hurting. She'd lost her parents, she'd told him that, and now he'd seen them and felt their loss along with her. It was a gouge in her soul. He couldn't imagine losing his parents, both of them at once, unexpectedly. And she didn't even have siblings to turn to.
Mikhail and Gregor will be your brothers now. You will never be alone again. And then there was that asshole. That enormous, Nordic prick. Her last man. Alex didn't know details, but he knew enough. This man had made her feel bad, made her doubt herself. He wanted to rip the bastard's head off, jam it down the bleeding stub of his neck, stuff his body in a dumpster and roll it into the Hudson. A few more feedings and I'll know where you live, Jeff.
Alex wished he was human, just so he could fall asleep with Helena, wake up and have breakfast with her. And after breakfast, he would spend the rest of his life making sure no one ever hurt her again.
The clock read 4:00. Dawn was closing in, but he could not bring himself to leave her warm bed. Instead he stroked her hair and listened to her heartbeat—three beats for every one of his—and imagined their lives weaving together. She was strong, and she had a lot of love in her. That he also knew. Maybe even enough love to take on a vampire.
That night he'd explain everything to her. It would be okay.
At five, he could no longer play it cool. Instead he was playing chicken. Sunrise was at 6:09.
Chapter 3
Helena woke with an empty space beside her. Alex dressed at the bedside, illuminated by nothing more than the glowing blue face of the alarm clock. Drugged with sleep and sex, she could barely speak, much less lift her head off the pillow. "Wus up?"
"Sleep. I have to be back to the hotel."
There was a crispness to his voice that she didn't recognize. It brought her awake and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. It wasn't even dawn yet. "Umm, do you want some coffee or something?"