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Gwen swallowed and shifted over to the trellis of roses on the opposite side of the fountain from him. “Niah mentioned that vampires can remember some stuff from being human,” she said. “That you favor things you loved as humans. Do you think you liked art? When you were human?”
He was quiet for a long while, and Gwen had to force herself not to look back at him. “Fondness is not memory,” he replied eventually.
There was a darkness in his voice that made her insides twist, and she turned to glance back at him. He was standing by the fountain, not looking at her but at the water as it flowed from the shell beneath Venus’s feet. He looked almost sad, cast in the dim light. He was still ominous, but there was something about him that felt a little less cold. A little less foreboding. A little more approachable.
“Are you fond of anything else?” she asked. “Besides one Impressionist painting?”
He didn’t look away from the water. His cool gaze lingered there, and he was quiet so long she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer. “I am fond of lilies,” he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her breath hitched. Lilies. “You—like lilies?” she muttered.
“Yes.”
Gwen blinked, closing her gaping mouth. She liked lilies too. In fact, they were her favorite. She even wore lily perfume. Her cheeks burned.
He turned his face to look at her. “And you are fond of chocolate.”
Her eyes went wide, and a swarm of butterflies filled her belly. “How did you know?—”
“Your reaction,” he explained rather benignly. “When Barith offered to make hot chocolate that first day in London, it brought you obvious joy. You’ve also eaten something with chocolate in it every day since.”
Her skin flushed further. “I-I didn’t know you’d been paying that much attention,” she stammered. The thought of him watching her that closely was both flattering and mortifying.
“You also like pizza with only olives and mushrooms. Red wine but not white. You bite your nails when you’re thinking hard and your lip when you’re nervous.”
Gwen’s mouth fell open, stopping her from continuing to chew on her lower lip. He didn’t keep going, but she was sure he could have. He’d been watching her. All this time she’d thought Sirus was happy to mostly ignore her existence, and the whole time he’d been watching her. It should have freaked her out. Creeped her out. It didn’t. Once more, he knew more about her than Nathan did, and they’d dated for nearly a year! When he’d order her white wine at parties and pizza she hated, she’d always just write it off as his bad memory. It was stupid, but knowing Sirus had noticed and remembered those things pricked something inside her. She wanted to say something, but no words came out of her open mouth.
“Why did it annoy you?” he asked.
Gwen blinked. “What?” she replied, though it came out more like a squeak.
“Abigail’s interest in me.”
Her heart lurched into her throat. Shit. “It didn’t annoy me,” she said, a little too quickly.
“You’re a bad liar.”
Gwen spun around to face the roses, her heart thudding against her ribs. “I’m not lying,” she lied. “Why would I care who you’re into? If Abigail is what gets your vampire motor running, then go for it.” She cringed at how stupid she sounded. When was she going to learn to keep her mouth shut?
“We should return,” he said, his voice cool and placid once more.
Yes. They should. Because if she stayed here with him much longer, she might say or do something even more stupid, and Gwen had suffered enough embarrassment already.
She pulled his jacket from her shoulders and turned to hand it to him. “Here.”
He peered down at her, the muscles in his jaw tightening. She shivered when a chill swept through and his expression darkened. It irritated her. A lot about this night irritated her. Mostly she was irritated with herself. Irritated. Angry. Flushed. Embarrassed. Who was keeping track?
“You are upset.”
Right. Sirus was keeping track.
Gwen grumbled in frustration. “I’m not upset,” she snapped, clearly upset. “Look, just take it. I’m fine.” She shivered again. Dammit.
“You are not.”
She scoffed and shoved the jacket into his chest. “And whose fault is that, vampire boy?”
His hand came up to hold his jacket, but it fell over hers as it did. Her skin tingled where they touched. He really was startlingly warm.
