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“That did not go quite how I imagined,” Philippe admitted a bit breathlessly. Sweat glistened on his face and dampened his hair, leaving strands sticking to his temples. Rafe couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone looking so perfect in his bed.
“What was missing?”
Philippe gave a playful roll of his eyes. “I wanted to linger over you in the bed, torment you. I wanted to make your body vibrate with pleasure before we actually fucked.” His expression turned rueful and embarrassed. “But when I saw you stretched out against the red sheets, I couldn’t wait.”
“Is that why you’re still wearing your pants?”
The joy bled out of Philippe’s face frighteningly fast. He held on to his smile, but the weight had returned to his eyes. Rafe couldn’t decide whether he regretted his words or not. But to his credit, Philippe didn’t take the easy out that Rafe was offering. He didn’t lie. There was another reason, and now Rafe was desperate to know the truth.
Did he really see Rafe as something beneath him? Was he merely a joke? A plaything? A distraction to help him forget about all the heavy trials of being a clan leader?
Rafe smiled, but he would feel that it was a rough, brittle thing. He tapped into the little ball of power that seemed to rest just behind his heart. He channeled it into his voice, making his words almost hypnotic. “Strip for me, Philippe. I want to feel all of you against me. Be with me. Trust me with all of you.”
Philippe’s eyes flew open wide and he made a choked noise. His voice came out soft and distant. “I feel it.”
He damn well should. Rafe was using a hell of a lot more power on Philippe than he normally used, but the vampire was older, stronger. A subtle touch would not work on him.
“Let me see and touch all of you,” Rafe pressed.
Philippe trembled slightly but didn’t otherwise move. “I…oh God, this…it’s-it’s insidious. It’s like I feel this is hurting you if I don’t obey.” His voice was choked with pain and sadness. Unshed tears made his eyes glisten. “I don’t want to hurt you. Rafe…”
Rafe had never heard his power described this way. Some had simply said they had a feeling of wanting to make him happy, but this was different for Philippe. He was afraid of hurting Rafe, but Philippe was the only one in danger of coming to harm if he continued to fight the command.
“Please, don’t want to hurt you,” Philippe whispered, his voice trembling.
Rafe immediately cut off his gift, tucking it away in his chest again. Philippe sucked in a choking breath, his eyes closed, but that only sent a pair of tears streaking down his pale cheeks.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” Philippe admitted. He sounded as if he was forcing himself to sound light and joking.
“I shouldn’t have—” he started to say, but Philippe interrupted him.
“No, I asked you to. Wanted you to show me.”
“But I shouldn’t—”
“I need to get going.”
Philippe shocked Rafe speechless by rolling off the mattress and hurrying to where his clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. Rafe watched him for a second as he pulled on his T-shirt and was struggling with his sweater before he started to move as well.
“Don’t. Please. Not yet,” Rafe managed while his mind struggled to catch up to what was happening. Fear, anger, confusion, and panic swamped him, leaving him shaking. He felt betrayed that Philippe had held something back, and like a petulant child he’d tried to force him to give over what he hadn’t wanted to. He’d ruined it. Ruined this precious time they’d shared. Philippe couldn’t leave like this.
“No, really. I need to be going. I need to check on my clan. See if anyone has heard anything. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long,” Philippe said, shoving his feet into his shoes as he closed up his pants again.
“Don’t leave like this, Philippe. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have used my powers.”
“I really must go.” Philippe paused and flashed him a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was some emotion Rafe couldn’t quite name. Sadness. Fear. Did Philippe suddenly fear him? Just that thought sent a dagger of pain ripping through his heart.
Philippe turned and left the bedroom, undoubtedly heading to the elevator. Rafe swore under his breath as he grabbed a long gray silk robe and wrapped it around his sweat-and-cum-covered body. His bare feet slapped across the floor as he jogged to catch up to Philippe as he reached out to hit the call button.
“I’m sorry, Philippe. I never meant to hurt you,” Rafe called out.
Philippe turned as the double doors slid open. He smiled and this one felt a little more real. “I know. You don’t need to apologize.”
