Page 90 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

I made a face at him. “It’s not the same.”

“It is.”

“Fine.” I padded out to the bathroom. Dante joined me while I slathered lotion all over my skin. He was eyeing my face lotion, so I slid the gigantic bottle toward him. He hesitated a beat before pumping some into his hand.

"It's probably not as fancy as whatever you usually use," I said.

"Lotion is lotion."

"But the fancy jars are prettier."

"They are."

"I tried putting mine in a cute little jar I made for it a couple years back, but I hated dipping my fingers in. I made a pump bottle after that, but it never worked right, and it was a huge pain to transfer the lotion back and forth, so I gave up." I paused, glancing his way. "Not sure why I told you that."

"Because you're comfortable around me, I hope."

I made a noncommittal noise, even though he was right.

"What did it look like?" he asked.

"What did what look like?"

"The jar."

"Oh. I don't remember. I've made a shitload of pottery since then. I like patterns and bright colors more than neutrals and solids, so they probably had flowers or stripes or something."

He nodded.

There was a moment of silence between us. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't completely natural, either.

It went on a little too long.

I dug my eyeliner and mascara out of the drawer and put it on quickly. I didn't own any other makeup, so that was obviously out of the question. I'd tried other makeup in the past, but I had too many freckles, and I'd never managed to make it look decent enough to bother regularly.

The silence continued.

Dante leaned back against the edge of the countertop. He wasn't far from me, but he wasn't too close, either. "Do you remember the first night we spent together in the prison?"

"It would be hard to forget."

"You told me I was agreeable," he said.

"I was clearly wrong."

"You weren't."

"You said you got bored in every past relationship, too," I pointed out.

"I did. When I was looking for a mate, I had a tendency to win women over without ever opening up to them. I've been thinking about it. I thinks it's why I always ended up bored. I wasn't myself with them. They saw the version of me that I let them see, and they never tried to get to know me. Or I never let them. I don't want to do that with you." His admission was slightly reluctant.

"Would you have forcibly moved yourself into one of their homes?" I asked him.

There was a pause before he answered. "No."

"Then even if you never open up, whatever we are is genuine." I leaned toward the mirror and carefully lined the outer half of my eyelid.

"We're mates, Ophelia. What we have is definitely genuine."