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“Vampire boy?” he repeated coldly. It sounded very weird coming from him. The muscles in his neck tensed. “I did not intend to upset you.”
She snorted. “Well, you did just tell me that you’ve basically been stalking me for the last week,” she reminded him.
His whole body tensed then. As if it had only just dawned on him that admitting to watching her could be perceived as bad. That she perceived it as bad. Suddenly, Gwen felt strange for a whole new reason.
He was about to say something, but she beat him to it. “You could have just talked to me, you know.” It came out far more harshly than she’d intended. “Instead of making me think you didn’t give a shit.” She pulled her hand away.
Sirus stood there, holding his jacket to his chest, glaring down at her. “I did not think you desired my presence.”
Gwen stiffened. He wasn’t entirely wrong or right. The problem was that she had wanted him around and not around all at the same time. It wasn’t like she’d sought him out for conversations or tried to talk to him at all. Her cheeks warmed. He’d been avoiding her because it’s what he thought she wanted. Actually, now that he mentioned it, she felt like it was what they all assumed she’d wanted. Niah was a vampire, but she was at least somewhat approachable. Sirus, on the other hand, exuded brooding, dark, loner vibes. Nobody had seemed to find his absence or distance the least bit strange.
“You aren’t exactly the most approachable person in the world,” she pointed out. “But I don’t get the impression you hate that entirely.”
Sirus considered her for a moment. “I don’t.” She smirked. She’d been right. “Except when it deters those whose company I do not mind.”
Her smirk faltered. Was he trying to say he liked her company? Gwen’s stomach tightened, and she bit at her lip. Sirus’s eyes fell to her mouth, and those frost-blue eyes darkened. She was sure she was imagining it, but she could have sworn he looked—tempted.
She swallowed. “Should we go? Back in?”
He nodded and held out his jacket for her again. “Levian will be furious if you return with a chill,” he told her.
Gwen rolled her eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Levian was weirdly paranoid about her mortality. Always assuming she was coming down with something at every sneeze. Then she’d force her to take spoonfuls of this nasty potion that tasted like sweaty feet. She did not want to take more of that potion. “Fine,” she grumbled.
He opened the jacket and held it out for her to slip into. Gwen stuck her arms through and turned to face him, pulling it tighter.
“Better?” he asked with a touch of smugness she did not care for.
Gwen glared up at him. “You might be King of the Vampires, but you’re still an ass.”
“So I’m told,” he quipped.
Finding his dryness funny, she smiled up at him. His expression darkened when she did. The intensity of it made her insides turn into hot goo. The way the shadows cast over him was startling, accentuating his strong cheeks and very kissable mouth. Gwen took a step back from him. Except her feet didn’t quite follow like they should have, and she tripped.
In one quick motion, Sirus grabbed her upper arms, keeping her from falling over herself. “S-sorry,” she stammered through shallow breaths, her eyes wide as they stared up into his own. Her hands were splayed over his firm chest again. It was probably only a moment, but it felt like an eternity passed as he held her there. Gwen knew it was probably all in her head, but the air around them seemed to crackle.
Maybe it was her hormones or the scent of him or her frazzled nerves, but instead of pulling away she shifted her fingers over his chest. He stiffened under her touch, and the faintest sound slipped out of him. It sounded very much like a soft growl.
Gwen bit her lip between her teeth, and Sirus’s silver eyes fell to her mouth. She caught the gleam in his expression, and a warmth spread deep in her belly. She knew that look, as subtle as it was. The primal flicker of desire.
Her insides turned molten as boldness welled up inside her. So much boldness, she didn’t even hesitate when she leaned further against him, lifted up onto her toes, and kissed him.
Chapter Fifteen
Sirus was courting disaster. He struggled to care. His eyes were locked on Gwendolyn’s lush pink lips. The same color as the roses she’d played with earlier in the garden.
“S-sorry,” she stammered through shallow breaths, her eyes wide as they stared up into his own. Sirus knew he should move away from her, but the way her breaths came short and fast was far more intoxicating than any spirit. His grip tightened. He could almost taste her anticipation in those little shallow breaths. It startled him to his core. The blatant recognition of her desire.
Gwendolyn desired him.
He should move away. He found himself unwilling. His skin burned beneath the fabric where she touched. Her fingers moved over him, but only faintly. In response, a primal growl reverberated from somewhere deep in his chest. A little flare of magick around her eyes made his skin skitter. She bit her lip between her teeth. He was heady from having her so near, the scent of her lily perfume clouding his thoughts. He felt as though she were a siren luring him into the dark abyss of the sea. Sirus was happily ready to plunge himself into the depths of his demise if it meant he could taste those lips.
She was bold. Alluring in a way she didn’t even recognize. Her past lover had been an utter fool to let her go. Sirus had no doubt in his mind that any man who’d had her and let her go was beyond an idiot.
He was just as much the fool. His grip loosened, and he was about to move away until she pressed her hands further into him. Sirus could have stopped her. He didn’t even try. It was only an instant, but the moment her soft lips met his, a jolt of need tore through him like a raging river bursting through a dam.
She reeled back the second it happened, her eyes wide with alarm at what she’d done. “I—I—” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean?—”
Her pink lips were shockingly sweet. Sirus wanted to taste them again, to devour them. The air cracked in his ears, and he ignored all the instincts that told him not to say what he was about to say.
