I had a deadly vampire who would be within arm’s reach, with two trained soldiers watching the entrance.
Shouldwas an interesting thing. It was like trying to pry open shackles with a key that should fit, but the mechanism wouldn’t unlock.
It started when they slammed the door open . . .
Raphael put a hand on my shoulder. The touch pulled me away from my well of thoughts and brought me back to the present.
“Samara. You will be safe. Nothing will happen. I won’t let it.”
I nodded.
He took a step closer. I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me.” His words were soft. “It’s still the truth. You’re safe.”
The key . . . it didn’t fit.
But like a tension wrench in a keyhole, it hit one of the pins, and something in me loosened.
Raphael saw it; I know he did. He could read me too easily. The serious look in his eyes eased as one side of his mouth ticked up in a grin. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
“It just—um, mine were dirty and—you can have it back. Or have it cleaned—”
His grin grew wider as I stammered. “Keep it. You look good in my clothes.”
Before I could stammer a reply, he wove around me, pulled the sheets back from the side closest to the door, and got into bed.
He tapped the spot next to him, still grinning.
“Come to bed, little viper.”
“Samara, wake up.”
Thirsty. I was so damn thirsty. Cold and warm at the same time, like an icy ache inside me that burned.
“Ireallydon’t think you mean to do this.”
My eyes snapped open.
And I wished I could die anew of mortification. Raphael was below me, his shirt in shreds with tiny pricks of dried blood from wounds already healing on his chest.
His hands were pressed against my shoulders, grip gentle but firm. Pushing meawayfrom him.
To complete my mortification, I was straddling him. A position I’d been finding myself in a few too many times. But never before when I was aching like this, wanting to grind my hips against his. To press forward and bury my fangs in his neck . . .
Pathetic.
“You’re awake. Good.” The relief in his voice was plain, but he didn’t release me. “I wasn’t sure if it would take until dusk.”
“Why am I . . . what happened?”
Raphael looked slightly uncomfortable. It was an odd expression on him, like he was holding back his words or not quite sure how to shape them. His hair was mussed from sleep, his eyes studying me as he weighed how to answer me.
“Raphael,”I pressed, feeling more than a little panicked. “Tell me. What did I do?”
He sighed, gritting his teeth as he answered. “You tried to drink from me in your sleep. I woke up before you could bite and tried to back away, but you grabbed my shirt.”
The torn fabric. The pricks of blood. I’d scratched him.
And worse, I wanted to lick those drops of blood straight from his chest. My fangs ached worse than ever, even though I’d been drinking other blood.
