Page 79 of Bleed

I raise my glass in acknowledgement. “Special occasion.”

Her gaze drifts to the second glass on the counter, already poured and waiting. “That for me?”

I nod, lifting it and extending it toward her.

She closes the distance between us, the scent of her perfume reaching me first.

Jasmine. Gardenia.

I selected it myself when furnishing her room, judging it a suitable profile from dozens of samples. It’s clean, elegant, and subtle enough not to overwhelm my senses.

I hadn’t accounted for the difference between smelling it from a strip of paper and smelling it on her skin.

For a brief moment, I forget myself. Our fingers brush as I pass her the glass.

That fleeting contact is all it takes for hunger to slam into me with startling force. My gaze instantly drops to the pulse fluttering beneath the delicate skin of her throat, pressure building behind my canines as my fangs threaten to descend.

I withdraw my hand immediately, forcing my attention elsewhere before instinct can gain any more ground. She doesn’t seem to notice, and by the time I look at her again, I’ve regained my composure.

“Mmm,” she hums after taking a sip, lowering the glass to lick a lingering drop of wine from her plush lips. “You’ve been hiding the good stuff, haven’t you?”

“It’s no better than the other bottles you’ve helped yourself to,” I reply. “This one just had the benefit of proper aeration.”

She rolls her eyes and takes another drink, gulping it down far too quickly for a wine of this caliber. I make a conscious effort to keep my gaze on her face, but it lasts approximately three seconds.

My focus drifts despite myself, following the line of her throat as she swallows. The muscles shift beneath her tan skin, her pulse beating steadily beneath the delicate column of her neck.

I redirect my attention to my own glass. Tonight will require discipline, and I’ve allowed my thoughts to stray too much already.

“When are we leaving?” she asks, glancing toward the clock on the stove.

I follow her gaze. “The driver arrived twenty minutes ago.”

Her eyes widen, and she immediately lifts the glass, evidently intending to finish it in one swallow.

I reach out before the rim reaches her lips, curling my fingers gently around the bowl of the glass and lowering it again.

“No need to rush,” I say. “Enjoy the wine. He can wait.”

She smiles, a faint blush blooming across her cheeks as she dips her chin in acknowledgement.

Her green eyes appear brighter than usual tonight– more of an emerald than their usual sage. Or perhaps I’ve simply been looking at them longer than I should, the realization coming a fraction too late as she shifts her weight beneath my gaze, suddenly self-conscious, and takes another measured sip of wine.

“Are we gonna talk about the other day?” she asks after lowering her glass.

I frown, adjusting the cuff of my jacket. “I assume you’d like an apology.”

She shrugs, as though the answer should be obvious.

“I apologize if I frightened you, but I won’t apologize for my reaction,” I say. “You’re my source.”

“That you don’t even feed from,” she cuts in.

I draw a slow breath through my nose. “Be that as it may, a claim is a claim. You offered yourself to another vampire. That is unacceptable.”

She narrows her eyes over the rim of her glass. “You know what else is unacceptable, Elliott?” she asks, all snark. “The fact that you’re not living up to your end of things. I thought this source thing was supposed to be something special, but you treat me like furniture.”

“You’re unhappy here.”