Splashing water on my face, it’s impossible to ignore what’s so obviously there: the wide eyes, slightly puffy lips, and red cheeks. The flush down my neck and all over my breasts. My breasts which look like they’ve been literally mauled between the red lines and bite marks. My nipples are a dark colour, having been tugged on so blissfully much.
Covering them isn’t without hesitation; the longing to go out there and finish what we began claws at me.
This morning was bad enough, when reminding myself of the fact Ijustmet Lucian prevented me from asking him to kiss me. Keeping my distance all day was harder than I expected. The more time we spent together, the more I wanted him—and the more I questioned what the point of avoiding him even was.
Then, when seeing what he did for me, I couldn’t help but act on that very desire and leapt into his arms without another thought. Taking it further wasn’t in the plans, but he wanted me as much as I wanted him. His solid cock between my thighs told me so—along with the way he took the kiss to new heights.
My skin warms as I brush my hand along the places of my neck he’s touched. Nothing will go back to normal after this.How will I ever be able to leave the cabin and return home, knowing Lucian is somewhere on Earth?
One thing at a time.First: I need to leave this bathroom and face him.
What if he tries again? Do Iwanthim to try again?
I think I may. It’s probably idiotic and fatalistic given what he is, but putting all that aside doesn’t change the fact that my desire for my would-be murderer is half the reason I pulled away.
Rinsing my hands one more time and using the moisture to dampen and cool my cheeks, I return to the main room, finding Lucian crouched beside the fireplace, stoking the newly formed flames. Beside him is a white mug he gestures to when hearing the door crack.
I take a seat on the floor beside the mug of hot chocolate and blow on the liquid. “You made this?” A vampire making hot chocolate doesn’t exactly reassure me it’ll be chocolatey enough—and it might even be watered down—but he tried, so I will too.
After a couple blows over the steaming liquid while he finishes the fire and settles on the other side of me, I manage a small sip,stillscalding my lip in the process. But the drink is actually the ideal blend, and impatient for the flavour, I force a larger gulp.
“How do you know the correct ratio?”
He shrugs. “Read the instructions, then added one more scoop.”
“It’s perfect.” Everything about this is.
Bringing my legs up closer, I alternate between sipping, watching the small fire, and watching him. He stays a short distance away, observing the flames too. Every so often, his brows dip, like he’s thinking about something, but the expression never lingers.
“Do you have any good Christmas memories from your childhood?”
He blinks, looking up at me, then frowns as his eyes slide towards the tree. “Vague ones of my father cutting down a tree to bring inside, and Mother baking cookies. My sisters would play outside, and then by the fire to warm up. Otherwise…no, not really. Memories are starting to fade, replaced by newer ones.”
Oh.I’d never considered that after living for so long, memories wouldn’t be as strong as they once were—but it makes sense. He’s seen and done so much in two centuries, the less important and earlier events are bound to fade eventually.
Which means this day that means so much to me will eventually be a faded memory from his past. He’ll stop remembering the pathetic, half-dead girl he once saved from a winter car accident, spent a few days with her, and then went on his way.
Lucian slides closer and tips my head up with a finger beneath my chin. “Your mood changed. What’s wrong?”
It’s surreal how he catches everything almost immediately. I’m not used to having someone so attuned to my emotions. Hell, attuned to anything at all. “One day, this will be a forgotten memory to you, whereas it’s become one of my best.” If notthebest.
His hand grows heavy around my neck as he jerks me towards him. “Sawyer, I don’t plan on ever letting this memory fade. I’ll never forget you because you won’t be going anywhere.”
It’s a sweet sentiment I do nothing but smile at, hiding my own ache behind a mask of happiness. To conceal it, I drop my face but turn my body into his, leaning against his arm as I continue sipping my drink.
He can say whatever, but at some point, I’ll become a person from his past. There’s probably been numerous women over the years that he’s been around and moved on from. We didn’t talkmuch about his history yesterday, but he’s basically said as much—that he’s spent lifetimes wandering, never settling for more than a couple years at a time, because a vampire’s life is a lonely one.
Mine is too, but for more restrictive reasons. Mine’s the definition of mortality, of being human, and I’m not sure which option is better.
“Fire is one of the limited ways a vampire can be killed,” he comments.
By telling me this, he’s handing me a weapon—thus trusting I won’t turn around and use it on him. Which is why, while my mind wanders over what limited is truly defined by in terms of vampiric deaths, I simply say, “Yet you made the fire. You could have mentioned it; I’d have done it.”
“Fire burns mortals, too. I’d rather me than you.”
A burn wouldn’t cause my immediate death. At least, not a burn sustained by working a fireplace. His sentiment is sweet, however.
“You say the strangest and most intense things sometimes.”
