Page 53 of Roses & Ruin

“It’s my life, Hayden,” I cry out, grabbing his shirt. “My risk. Stop deciding for me. Yeah, I’m a human, and maybe eighteen years is like ten minutes for you, but for me, it’s my entire life. An eternity to live feeling like something’s always been missing. An eternity spent feeling lost and alone.

“I’ve spent my entire life in a windowless, pitch-black box. Do you know how cruel it is? To show me the sky and let me feel the wind on my face and then force me to go back to living without light? Without you?” My eyes spill over, and I clench harder at the cotton in my hand. Hayden’s lips part, his expression shattered. “I’m not afraid of death,” I whisper. “I’m not afraid of anything except living a life without knowing your touch.”

“Rose,” Hayden grates out. He squeezes his eyes shut. His hand hovers above both of mine where they still fist in his shirt. I feel a faint tremble in his chest, like he’s trying very hard to keep himself still.

But then Hayden wrenches out of my grasp and goes to lean against the fireplace mantel.

“You should be afraid,” he says. I take an involuntary step back at the dark threat in his voice. “You forget what I am. What I was.”

“I don’t,” I say hoarsely. I walk to where he stands, glaring down at the fire. “I don’t forget. I don’t care that you’re a vampire, Hayden. I don’t.” I reach up slowly and, with a single finger, turn his face to mine. He allows it but refuses to meet my eyes, keeping them ducked. “I thought I was waiting for you for just this entire life, Hayden,” I whisper. “But I’ve been waiting for you for all of my lives. Hundreds of years. My soul remembers, even if I don’t. Don’t you miss me?”

Hayden takes a ragged inhale, his fingers twitching on the mantel. He turns his face from me. I put my hand on his chest again.

“Don’t you miss my touch? You remember it, but I don’t. Can’t you remind me? Teach me?”

“Rose,” Hayden growls, sounding pained. He grabs my wrist, but I’m ready for him. I catch his arm and pull his hand to my neck.

“I trust you,” I whisper, my heart slamming. “I trust you, Hayden.” His beautiful face is open and raw, his eyes trained where his thumb rests at the tender underside of my jaw. When he slides his finger to my jumping pulse, presses down to feel it, he makes a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat. I gasp and squeeze his arm. I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking for when I beg him, “Please.”

Hayden releases me with a furious sound. In a single, fierce move, he rips one of the river stones from the fireplace mortar, as easy as plucking a grape from a bunch, and shows me the large rock in his palm. His fist closes around the stone, and when his fingers splay back open, Hayden’s holding a handful of fine powder.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he says darkly, eyes narrowing to slits.

His show of strength isn’t unaffecting. The alarm from before returns, the tiny spike of adrenaline. But it pales in comparison to the huge leaping arousal flooding my body, the certainty that he would never, ever hurt me.

“I know what you’re doing.” I blow on the small pile of dust, scattering it to the wooden floor. Hayden falters, eyes flicking from his empty palm to my face. “And it’s not gonna work. You can’t scare me off, Hayden. In fact,” I say, “you’re the one who should be scared. Because I’m never gonna give up.”

When I wrap my arms around his neck, his eyes get huge, and for a moment he looks terrified. I rise on my toes, pull Hayden’s face to mine, and, light and soft as a moth’s wing, I brush my lips against his.

Hayden goes absolutely still. Rigid. Nonresponsive.

I hold there, my mouth barely touching his. I don’t want to pull back and see his face, see the anger or disappointment or, worse, pity as he considers how to let me down easy. Have I overplayed my hand? I think with horror.

Have I just ruined everything?

A loud, broken sound unleashes from Hayden’s throat, and suddenly, he’s kissing me back hungrily, so desperate. It unleashes something in me like a clawing, starving animal.

“I tried not to,” Hayden rasps, already sounding ruined. He sweeps me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, his one hand beneath my bottom, his other tangling in my hair. “I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, Rose, but god help me, I’m not strong enough anymore—” I tilt my head at a better angle and silence Hayden with a demanding kiss, taking advantage of his parted lips.

Hayden makes a truly inhuman sound, low, rough, and needy, and I squeeze his hips with my thighs, digging my nails into his scalp. He breaks off our kiss with a loud, wet sound, licking the flat of his tongue against the base of my throat, dragging it up to my chin. “So good,” he breathes, “fuck, Rose.” And the words make me roll myself against him, my body knowing what it wants before I do.

It is the single most delicious, perfect moment of my life.

I tip my head back to give him more access, and he drags faster little kitten licks from the side of my jaw back down to my collarbone, his tongue expert and cool velvet. I wiggle frantically against him, seeking friction. “I like this so much,” I whine. I can feel Hayden’s smug smile press against my pulse.

“Yeah,” he rumbles. “I know.” I gasp, impossibly more turned on.

Of course he does. He knows all my spots, doesn’t he? And he’s going straight for them like he’s been waiting for, well, a lifetime. That knowledge goes straight to my already molten core.

I drag my fingers through his hair, down to his nape. Hayden licks back into my mouth, and when our tongues move deliciously against each other, I dig my nails into his skin, scratching down beneath the collar of his shirt.

A shudder runs through Hayden, and I wonder if I’ve now found one of his spots. He slams me into the nearest wall. As soon as my back hits the surface, his hand flies up and cups the back of my skull, pillowing my head from the impact. Hayden jerks his face back from mine, and his eyes are huge, round, and nearly all black with desire.

“Shit,” he says, his voice rough as gravel, “you okay?”

“Yes,” I pant. “Come back.” I grab his hair and pull as hard as I can. His eyelids flutter. He likes that, doesn’t he? I do it again, and he dives forward with a groan, kissing me deeply.

He tastes amazing. Like mint and spring water.