Page 142 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

His thoughts were spinning. Was he lying to himself? After what they’d shared this past week, he was inclined to think so. The hollow ache in his chest when she looked at him with disappointment, the way his entire being seemed to orient toward her—this was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Even now, he felt it there, an emptiness that had fled with her when she stormed out, leaving him hollow and aching.

In all his long years, he’d never felt love for another creature. Why should this—she—be any different? Better to save her from heartbreak. Then he would never have to disappoint her.

Lily avoided him for the remainder of the day. His bad mood, which had been so easily cured when she’d played for him, was now worse than before. Dinner had been torture. She’d sat across from him, laughing at Zola’s stories and asking Hassan about his book, speaking to everyone except him. Each smile she gave another vampire felt like a blade between his ribs. Every word uttered left irritation and jealousy coursing through his veins.

He stood in the kitchen like a lovesick fool, waiting for a batch of cinnamon rolls to come out of the oven—clinging to the gesture that had brought them together. Catina had been shocked when he’d appeared, while Vittorio only smirked at his sister. She’d tried to shoo Laurent away, insisting that she would make the cinnamon rolls, only for him to explain that it had to be him.

With a tray in hand, he paused outside the door to their bedroom. The silence from within felt ominous. He was inclined to knock, but when had he ever needed permission to enter his own room? He moved slowly, opening the door and striding in. Lily stood near the small table beside the balcony doors. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She’d been crying. Because of him. The knowledge twisted something sharp in his gut. A low growl rose in his chest.

She heard it and her jaw tightened, eyes fixing on the wall instead of him. “I don’t want to do this tonight, Laurent.”

“Laurie,” he automatically corrected.

“Laurent,” she emphasized.

He exhaled. “Lily, I’m⁠—“

“No. I don’t need an apology. This is my fault. All of it. I knew what you were from the beginning. It’s my fault for getting attached. I’ll get over it. I’ll get over you, I mean.”

His stomach dropped and he felt sick. He never felt sick. That was a human malady. “No.”

She continued staring at the wall as she said, “You have no right to make that demand.”

He strode across the room, slamming the tray on the table harder than necessary. Then he moved toward her. She backed up, trying to escape him until there was nowhere to escape to. Her back hit the wall.

He drew his shoulders back, taking a deep, unnecessary breath. “I feel something for you, Lily. Surely you know that. What of our conversation this morning? Hmm?”

Her expression wiped clean. “You said I was irresistible. That things were happening between us, and that we are still new. That doesn’t mean things will ever be deep and meaningful, or that you will give me your heart. So, why should I give you mine?”

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand through the loose strands of his hair. The thought of holding her heart for safekeeping did something to him, made him euphoric. It was an honor she’d never given to anyone else. “I want your heart,” he blurted before stopping himself. “I’m selfish, you know this. I want all that you are.”

“And I get nothing in return? Just your worship and possession? But not the deepest parts of you?”

“I am a vampire,” he snapped. “It is physically impossible for me to give you my heart. I cannot be that which I am not.”

She regarded him, a gleam in her eyes. “I want to believe that. I am inclined to. But…” He waited, his body seeming to tilt toward her. “I stand by what I said this morning. You appear remade. You said I ruined you. Those words count for something. You claim that you cannot love me. Perhaps you even believe it. Maybe someday we’ll find out that you’re right. I’m no expert on love—far from it. But I do like reading about it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from books, it’s that you won’t know unless you try. Standing here and telling me it’s not possible is bullshit.”

Before he could form a coherent response, she walked away and settled down on the couch, snatching up a cinnamon roll. “Oh, and one more thing, Laurent. Until you decide to actually try, I’m not letting you between my legs. I have a heart to protect, after all. Make your decision so I can move on with my feelings, if necessary.”

He gaped at her. This wouldn’t do. He was not someone to be refused.

“We’ll see about that, little flower.” His voice was a lethal challenge.

“You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as me. But when I get my hands on you and you’re melting beneath my touch, squirming and wanton and needy, you’ll be begging for my cock.”

Her chin lifted, and he recognized the stubborn set of her jaw, the same determination she’d shown when insisting she accompany him to the night market. “Feel free to test that theory at your earliest convenience.”

Then she dismissed him, turning her attention to her pastry. He could only stand there and watch as she licked a droplet of frosting off her finger, her tongue sensually flicking out.

His nostrils flared. A sudden desperate desire to have her mouth around his cock overtook him. His muscles tightened. He sprang into motion, stalking toward the couch. He took a seat overly close to her, their bodies touching. She ignored his proximity and continued to enjoy her pastry. There was no possible way she ever ate them this sinfully, slowly licking frosting from her fingers between bites.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lily,” he growled.

“I don’t play games, Laurent⁠—“

“Laurie.”