“You make throwing up seem so...” He crouches beside me, his face level with mine. “Graceful.”
My throat tightens. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me while I had vomit breath.”
“I try.”
He disappears—literally disappears, moving too fast for my eyes to track—and returns with a cool, damp cloth, which he presses to my forehead. The relief is immediate.
“Show-off,” I mutter.
“Efficiency. There’s a difference.”
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, even as my hand reaches for his. “I’ve been handling my own ‘food poisoning’ incidents since college. You could—I don’t know. Do vampire things. Hunt. Brood mysteriously.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely brood.”
“I contemplate,” he says with dignity. “There’s a difference.”
I laugh, which is a mistake because laughing makes my stomach churn. But it’s worth it to see the corner of his mouth twitch upward.
“I’m not leaving you,” he says. “This is where I want to be.”
“On a bathroom floor with a woman who just threw up?”
“With you. The venue is irrelevant.” He adjusts the cloth on my forehead. “I’ve spent many years alone in beautiful places. I’d rather spend one night on a bathroom floor with someone who matters.”
My eyes sting again. Definitely not the nausea this time.
“You’re suspiciously good at this,” I say after a while. “Most guys would have fled by now. Most guys would be texting their friends about how I derailed their night.”
“I’m not most guys.”
“No.” I meet his eyes. “You’re really not.”
He considers it. “I’ve had practice. Being the one who stays.”
“Women—women you loved?”
He nods tightly. “Yes.”
“You stayed with them. When they were sick. When they needed you.”
“I tried.” His voice is rough at the edges. “Not always well. Not always successfully. But I tried.”
I reach up and touch his face. His skin is cool beneath my fingers, but the expression in his eyes is warm. Vulnerable. Human, despite everything.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. “Just so you know. I’m not running. Not now, not ever—even knowing the truth.”
“You might feel differently later. When the shock wears off.”
“Maybe. But I doubt it.” I let my hand fall. “You want to know something crazy?”
“Tell me.”
“Learning you’re a vampire is actually less scary than some of the things I was imagining. I thought maybe you were in witness protection. Or a spy. Or—” I pause. “Okay, I thought you might be married. That one kept me up at night.”
“Married.” He sounds genuinely offended. “You thought I was married?”
