Page 113 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

She’d be weak with blood loss for an hour or two so he’d watch her closely. For now, he simply wanted to enjoy her lips. She gave no complaints. But all too soon, Cinnamon was pawing at him. Lily’s laugh cut them short. He watched her bright face, taking in her happy, dazed expression. An expression he’d put there. The drumming in his chest felt a lot like elation. He kissed one cheek, then the other, then the corner of her mouth.

“I need to get you home, get you something to eat. What sort of a caretaker would I be if I let you expire out here in the sand?”

“Okay,” she breathed, tilting her head back, exposing her neck to him. Unknowingly, but still. He smiled against the bare skin, dropping a few kisses there. Then he packed everything up and got his two girls loaded back into the car.

It was almost wistful, leaving this place. But this was just the beginning. This thing with Lily. He shot her a glance, something he found himself doing more and more lately. Simply looking at her, assuring himself that she was still there, right beside him. That she always would be. Because no matter what happened, he intended to keep her.

28

Laurent swept into my room, a tray in hand. Part of me had wondered if he’d stop this ritual now that we’d kissed at the cove, now that everything between us had shifted. But here he was. Tonight, there were two mugs of hot chocolate.

I closed the door to Cinna’s crate and made myself comfortable on the couch, instantly shy but trying to hide it. After returning from the beach, most of my mind had been occupied with thoughts him. His kiss was seared into my memory. I reached up and brushed my fingers across my lips. They’d been swollen for hours.

I caught Laurent’s gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Hope you don’t mind an old favorite,” he said, handing me a plate with a cinnamon roll.

“Never,” I breathed, all but snatching it from him.

I ignored the fork, lifting the roll to my mouth and taking a bite, getting sticky frosting everywhere. It was warm and gooey and delicious. I groaned.

Laurent watched, unblinking, as I devoured the whole thing. I was beginning to like his undivided attention. I began licking my fingers clean. His pupils blew wide. Did he enjoy the way my tongue felt against his skin whenever I fed from his wrist?

The stray thought made my toes curl. The craving hit me then—not just for his touch, but for the taste of iron and spice that had become my obsession. I pushed the thought away, but my mouth watered anyway.

“What’s that look for?” His voice was soft.

My cheeks flushed. “Uhm. Nothing?”

He hummed. “You’ve got⁠—“

I froze as he leaned toward me. His tongue darted out. My breath caught as he licked the tip of my nose, cleaning away frosting.

“Oh.” My body tightened everywhere.

He pulled away, gazing into my eyes. “Delicious.”

I couldn’t breathe.

He sat back looking relaxed—the opposite of how I felt—as if that hadn’t just happened. But it had. He’d licked my face. My freaking face. Licked it.

I clumsily reached for my hot chocolate, gulping it down. He picked up the other plate and used his fork, eating his cinnamon roll far more elegantly than me.

“Will you tell me more about the vampire season?”

“All right.” He set his empty plate on the tray, took a quick sip of hot chocolate, then leaned back. I tucked my feet beneath me, angling myself to face him.

“The vampire season is an age old tradition. An opportunity for the heads of our great houses to gather. Italy is where it all began, where we first came to be, so that is where we return. More than that, Italy is a vibrant place, culturally rich, filled with history. We vampires like such things, no? Beautiful, precious things.”

The way he said those last words made it clear he was no longer talking about Italy. His hungry gaze traced my face, eyes dipping to my lips before settling on my throat. For a moment, he looked every bit the vampire. Then he blinked and met my eyes again.

“Every year, our kind converges on the city, each house in attendance.” He continued speaking, painting a vibrant picture of vampire aristocracy, wealth, and power. Days spent strengthening old friendships, promenading down city streets, enjoying all the city had to offer. Nights spent indulging in parties, balls, and other more questionable activities. All the while, plotting behind closed doors, forging new alliances, and strategizing against enemies.

“It sounds like a competition,” I said, setting my empty mug on the tray.

“It is. And this year, I plan to win.”

“Oh? How do you suppose that?”

“I’ve got a few ideas. You, little flower, will be my crown jewel.” My lips parted. “Come here.” He reached for me, pulling me onto his lap until I straddled his thighs. Shivers raced across my skin. Beneath the thin fabric of my leggings, I could feel him hardening against me. That alone contradicted so much of what he’d claimed.