Holding myself up over her, keeping her locked in time to me, I go to speak but no words come out. Why is it so fucking hard to tell her my reasons?
Shaking her head, she nudges me gently to move off her. I hesitate for a second, then sigh, rolling off her.
My cock is still hard since I did not come, but the mood is gone.
I am losing her, and again, it is my own fucking fault.
I lie there watching Delaney move around my room, slipping into the bathroom. Water runs; she is taking a shower. Washing me from her body.
Fuck, why does that thought hurt?
Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I wait for her to come out.
Rubbing my hands over my scalp in frustration, I know that I have to tell her; I have to let her know why I did what I did. This needs to be cleared up before we can move on.
Seeing Camo claim Skyla was a huge thing for the club, and I know some of the brothers cannot fucking wait to claim their woman, but I need to make sure that we are both ready for that final step. I know I am still fighting my past demons, but I need to know where her head is at.
The door opens, and she steps out, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel while drying her hair with another.
“Couldn’t to wait to wash me off you?” I snark.
Her hard stare meets mine and I sigh.Fucking shut up, Thorin.
Shaking her head, she drops the towel, torturing me more, while she slips into clothes she has pulled from her suitcase.
“No point having your scent on me for bragging rights, if it means nothing, Thorin.” Her voice is cold and I hate it.
“You know it means something.”
“Does it?” she replies, not looking at me, and it angers me.
The fact that she won’t even meet my eyes pisses me off. Respect is a two-way street, and if we’re going to hash things out,she needs to look at me while we talk. Ignoring me like this just makes the anger burn hotter in my chest.
“Fucking look at me, Del.”
Sighing in defiance, she looks at me, her shirt in hand. She stands before me in just a bra and jeans, looking hotter than hell. Her hair is wet and wild, adding to her sexy level.
“You know that we are starting something, here, baby. Something that should have started a long time ago.”
“And whose fault is that?” she smarts off.
“Mine mostly, but there is always death to a story, Delaney. Mine is over three hundred years deep, baby. A journey that most never go on.”
“So tell me. Make me see what the hell is stopping you from making me yours completely, because right now, Thorin, I feel used and not good enough. You talk the good talk, make the right moves, but it all means nothing if I do not get all of you.” Her voice breaks.
In a flash I am at the foot of the bed, pulling her to me by the hips.
“I will tell you.” I rest my head on her stomach. “Come back to bed.”
She doesn’t move right away; she watches me, seeing if I am genuinely going to tell her.
“I promise I will tell you everything.”
“Fine,” she huffs, removing her jeans.
I reach for her, but she dodges my hold and slips into the bed. Pulling the bedding up to her waist, she’s looking at me with folded arms, a protection barrier against me.
“I was thirty-one when I was turned. Her name was Ophelia, and she was a part of a traveling convoy. I was born and raised in Moscow, Russia. From what I learned, she was collecting men from different countries. All the men in her convoy were men she had sired and brought with her everywhere. She had money,and obviously vampire powers to persuade people to do what she asked. Believe me, there were many.
