"I grew up in a cult, Esme. The Cult of Divine Purity." The name tasted like ash in my mouth, bitter and choking. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue. "Everything about desire, about wanting someone—" I paused. Took a breath. "It was beaten into us that it was wrong. Sinful. We were taught that our bodies were vessels of temptation, and that any physical pleasure was a corruption of the soul." I shook my head, a mirthless laugh escaping my lips. "And even after all these years, even after everything I've been through as a vampire, those teachings still haunt me. Scars that still hurt every time something tugs at them.” My throat grew thick with emotions I had no idea how to deal with. “You're pulling me apart, Esme."
"But…" Her eyes travelled over my face, full of confusion. "You're a vampire. And youstripin a nightclub. Thosewomen—" she said the word like a curse, "—are all over you, all the time."
"I'm a vampire because Killian made me one when he found me trying to take my own life. I dance because…because it feels like freedom. Like rebellion." One hand tugged at my hair, feeling like a fool for baring my soul like this, but unable to stop. "But I've never really...I don't know how…" I trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain the depths of my inexperience and insecurity when it came to intimacy.
Understanding suddenly dawned across her face, her dark eyes widening with realization. "To be with a woman?" she asked softly, her voice a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher. Compassion, perhaps? Or pity? I wasn't sure which one would be worse.
I frowned, trying to gauge how I felt hearing the words said aloud. They were true, and not true. "I've been with a woman. Once," I conceded. "Shortly after I was turned, before I learned control."
"Did you enjoy it?"
I shook my head. I honestly didn't remember. "I don't know."
"Did she enjoy it?"
Slowly, I lifted my eyes to hers. "She's dead," I told her calmly.
"Because of you?"
"Yes." I felt absolutely nothing as I confessed this truth about my past. It happened a long time ago, and what I'd just told her was true. I didn't remember anything because of the insanity of the bloodlust that had overtaken me. I remembered hunting her. And I remembered licking the blood from my lips and fingers, then sitting up and seeing the woman dead beside me, the smell of her cunt still on my flaccid cock. I didn't think about it anymore. Not because I didn't care that I'd taken a life, but because I did. Very much.
For a few seconds, we stared at each other in the dim light of the streetlight. Afterthatparticular confession, I expected her not just to walk away from me, but to fucking run. To get as far away from me as she could, like any normal human woman would do.
Instead, Esme stepped closer, and shudders overtook my body as she slid her arms around my waist and hugged me. I breathed in her scent with a longing so strong it nearly brought me to my knees, and my arms came around her to hold her close. Gods. She smelled so fucking good. Had she always smelled this good? Why hadn't I ever noticed?
But that was a lie. I had noticed. I'd fucking noticed every goddamn time she'd gotten within twenty feet of me, her presence obliterating any semblance of focus or control I'd managed to cobble together in her absence. And every single time, without fail, she’d consumed my attention entirely, hijacking my thoughts and desires with nothing more than the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her full, tempting lips. It was maddening, the way she could unravel me so effortlessly, leaving me weak and wanting with just a look or a gesture.
Leaning back just enough to look up at me, she asked, “Is that why you won't help me with the djinn? Because getting involved means getting close to me?"
"No." I met her gaze. "I won't help because I can't protect you. Not from him."
The confession burned coming out. Oh, I would fight for her. I wasn't a fucking coward. Every cell in my body wanted to go hunt that bastard down right fucking now, even knowing I wouldn't survive. Not alone. And neither would she. Vampires had very little magic, not enough power to fight a thing like the djinn. And neither did humans.
I could tell by her expression that she was rejecting my words. That it wasn't what she'd wanted to hear, and she refused to believe me.
But beneath the denial, the fear, I also saw the same raw need that was still tearing through me, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch her face again. Her skin was as satiny smooth as the finest silk under my fingertips, and I knew the rest of her would be just as soft. Carefully, I traced her jawline with my fingertips, unable to believe she was still there.
"Brogan." The way she pleaded my name shattered what little remained of my control.
I took her mouth again, drinking in her taste, her scent, the feel of her lips beneath mine. She surged against me, and I moved, backing her up against the brick wall of the building so I could get closer, afraid I was crushing her but unable to give her any space. Her hands found the hem of my Hawaiian shirt and slipped beneath it, her cold fingers trailing fire across the bare skin of my sides and back.
My gums ached and my fangs shot down. And my cock, which had gotten distracted during my blathering confession, hardened again until I thought it would burst if I didn't get inside of her soon. I kissed her hungrily, desperately, feeling her wince as one sharp fang sliced through her lip and her rich blood coated my tongue.
A low growl started in my chest and increased in volume as I pulled her lip into my mouth and sucked.
MINE.
I broke away from her mouth to trail kisses down her neck, hovering over her pulse, feeling it beat fast and strong beneath my lips. The sweet and spicy scent of her made my mouth water and my muscles tremble with the effort it took to hold myself back.
MINE.
The knowledge pushed everything else out of my mind. Fucking hell. I wanted to taste her—allof her.
"You smell so damn good." Unwilling to break contact, I spoke the words against the silkiness of her skin.
In response, Esme tilted her head, exposing more of her throat, and I ran my tongue over her pulsing artery. Her breath came out in little short gasps that quickly became my very favorite sound.
“You need to run.”
