“No, and you won’t, either.” He gestured to himself. “Do I have any scars?”
He didn’t and she knew it, but she pretended uncertainty. “I don’t remember. Maybe you could…” She pawed at his T-shirt.
Antoine grinned and batted her hand away. “Don’t distract me, I’m taking care of you.” He wet the washcloth again, and pressed it soothingly to her face. “You will heal like vampires do, only more slowly.” He paused in mid-wipe. “Actually, that is if you were just a marked chattel. With our bond and your witch magic too, your healing is even faster. But if you are worried, don’t be. You will be your usual beautiful self by morning.”
That was comforting. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Have I not told you so before?”
She smiled, ignoring the ache it caused in her cheek. “You might have done. I’ve forgotten.”
He sat back on his heels and regarded her, for so long that she began to feel uncomfortable. “Your eyes,” he said at last. “So gray, so striking. I think they are what I notice first.”
“Pretty eyes, huh?” She’d take it.
“And lips. I do like your mouth.”
She self-consciously sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, now wishing she hadn’t asked.
“On balance, you look better when your face is not mottled with yellow and green bruises.”
The moment broke. She lowered her eyes and swallowed. “Well, yes. It was a stupid time to ask.”
“Ma chérie,I thought you beautiful the first night I saw you. Every day since, the impression has only grown.”
“Now you’re just working your smooth French charisma.”
“I mean every word.” His lips twitched. “Although, truth be told, the thing I find most beautiful about you is the way you writhe.”
Heat rushed to her face, and she couldn’t meet his teasing eyes. “That’s on you, Mr. Vampire. I don’t writhe for anyone else.”
Antoine carefully set down his cloth, his movements stiff and betraying a sudden tension. “On that note—poor timing as it is—did you happen to observe Darian’s…enthusiasmwhen I bit him?”
“Do you mean the way he looked like he was about to declare his undying love?”
Antoine grimaced. “A repulsive thought, but yes.”
“I just assumed it was your—” Cally stopped, her eyes startled open. “—serum.”
“Mmm. Would you mind if I had a small taste of you,ma chérie? I would like to know if it has indeed returned.”
“You never have to ask.” She lifted her chin, pulling down the neck of her sweater.
His fingers entwined with hers. “Your wrist will suffice.”
She blinked. “You’ve never fed from there.”
“I don’t need to feed. This is just an experiment.” He bent over her arm, his hair falling forward.
“No.” She drew back her hand. “Serum or not, I don’t want you to feed from there.” She tilted her head to the side and pulled her sweater away, wishing she hadn’t worn something with a high neck. But it stretched well enough. “Please, Antoine.”
“If that is your wish.” He rose and she spread her knees for him, welcoming him in as he drew close. His palm cupped the side of her neck, but he paused to gaze into her eyes. “So very beautiful,mon amour.”
He hadn’t used that endearment since before his entombment, and her heart flipped. “I love you,” she whispered. “I will always love you.”
“And I love you, my bold, reckless, stubborn bonded.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing the delicate skin beneath her ear. “My memory may be hazy,” he murmured, “but I haven’t just fed from your neck, have I?”
Her breath caught, remembering him between her legs, and the exquisite sting of his teeth in her inner thigh. “No,” she breathed. “You can feed from me there, too.”
