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Sirus chose a room the size of two of her apartments put together. The space was cozy, much like the rest of the house, decorated in pale blues and grays with natural modern furniture. A couch and several chairs were arranged around a small fireplace on the far side of the room.
Every detail was beyond impressive, but it was the bed that drew Gwen’s immediate attention. The light blue fluffy bedcovers made it look like a plush sky covered in cloud pillows. She wandered across the room and ran her fingers over the lush fabric, only barely managing to hold in a groan. It was so soft. Exhaustion settled over her weary bones, making Gwen’s eyes grow heavy under the temptation to throw herself onto the bed and wallow in the decadent linens.
“You should sleep,” Sirus told her, as if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
Gwen startled slightly, her fingers pressing harder into the linens. A sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins when she recognized by the nearness of his voice that he’d followed her into the room. She turned to watch him slide in front of the fireplace. “There’s a washroom if you’d like to bathe,” he added, pointing to a door she hadn’t noticed. Heat spread over her cheeks at the way he said “bathe,” but she quickly shook it off. She really needed to get a handle on herself. This was getting ridiculous. She’d never blushed so much over the entirety of her life as she had in the last few hours.
“S-so are you going to tell me what the plan is here?” she stammered, pushing herself to focus.
“We will remain in London,” he replied, bending over the fire. He struck a match, which haloed his dark form in a flare of yellow light. Gwen’s mouth went dry. The giant room suddenly felt immensely too small.
Once the logs were lit, he slid to each of the tall windows to make sure the curtains were drawn tightly to block out the sun, which made her wonder. “So, if you’re a vampire, does that mean you can’t go out in the day?” she asked as he shifted to the next window.
“No.” He closed the last curtain tightly.
Gwen’s brows furrowed. “No, you can’t? Or no, you can?”
He managed a brief, cold glance in her direction. “I do not avoid daylight,” he replied stiffly.
She thought maybe she shouldn’t press it, but curiosity got the better of her. “But I thought vampires?—”
“Burn in the sun?” he finished for her before sliding back to the fire to prod it. “It’s only a myth. What lore exists of vampires is mostly false.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, more than a little surprised. Sirus moved toward the door. “Barith told me you’re immortal,” she said, emboldened by her sleepiness and not wanting him to leave. At least, not yet. “Is that true?”
He stopped at the edge of the chair near the door and twisted his torso to face her. A flutter rippled through her at the way his tall, lean form and dark hair caught the light of the fire. It really wasn’t fair that someone could look so attractive by firelight. “Yes,” he replied.
Hearing it confirmed only ratcheted up her curiosity. Gwen slid up to the back of the couch and hesitated asking, but her filter was too far gone now. “How immortal, exactly?”
His expression didn’t shift a fraction as the cool word fell from his lips. “Very.”
Gwen’s insides twisted like a ball of snakes. She wanted to know how old he was but thought better of it. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to know. Or ever would be. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with him being a real, living, breathing man, let alone the idea of him being a vampire. Even if she did feel some truth in it. She’d felt it in New York. Her body had seemed to recognize something predatory in him, even if she’d still been tempted to lean into his touch. It was all very confusing. He was confusing.
“You’re very tan,” she observed softly. She blinked, another shot of adrenaline coursing through her. She hadn’t just said that aloud, had she?
His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head just so, the gesture more animal than human.
Hell. She had said it out loud. “I only mean,” she fumbled anxiously, shifting on her feet, “that I wasn’t expecting it…for you to be so—tan.” If only a black hole would open up and swallow her. “Aren’t vampires supposed to be pale or sparkly or something?”
“No,” he replied with the warmth of a frozen tundra. “We are not.”
Gwen swallowed. He didn’t seem offended by the question, at least from what she could tell, but she still felt like she’d stuck her foot right into her stupid mouth. She took in a breath and held it. His brow raised expectantly. If she was going to have one foot in there, why not both? “What about fangs?”
He shifted his feet to face her fully, and she couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant in luring him to stay with her ridiculous questions. “Another myth,” he confirmed with bone-rattling sharpness.
“But how…” She trailed off. He didn’t fill in the gaps for her this time. He was going to force her to ask it. She fidgeted. “You do drink—you know?”
Blood.
She couldn’t say it.
“We do.” The reply was short and crisp.
Gwen tried to swallow but couldn’t. All the muscles in her throat seized. Apparently, most of what she knew about vampires was wrong, except for that one vital part. The drinking of blood. “A lot?” she asked, her voice half hollow.
Something passed over his face. There one second and gone the next. Gwen couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or simply puzzled by her questions. She assumed the former.
“What’s required,” he replied tactfully.
