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Chapter 13
He wanted her to know first. There was something intimate about sharing secret information. He’d discussed battle plans with his second as chief of Clan Karyn. He’d told the king of France’s mistress that he was a vampire.
A decision that had cost him dearly later, when she insisted he turn enough men to pleasure her entire court of ladies. When he refused, Lawrence had been forced to flee France and he hadn’t returned for many years.
Certainly this wasn’t the most important secret he’d shared—lives did not hang in the balance, not even his—and yet it felt like a seminal moment. It was as if he were engaging in life again for the first time since leaving Bowden Castle.
“That,” he said, guiding her to the center of the room and pointing up to the grand chandelier, “will stay. And just below it, here, a circular bar with dozens of beers on tap, starting with selections from the local brewery.”
Eyes wide, she took in their surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. She walked up to the old counter, cleaned earlier in the day for the first time in years, then circled the room, peering behind counters and into every nook and cranny.
She finally stopped walking and turned to give him her judgment. “It’s perfect. So it’s yours?”
“It will be soon. Davis has accepted my offer.” He didn’t mention the exorbitant amount he purchased the bank for, but luckily, money was not a concern.
“Which answers my question. I suppose we’re technically trespassing,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.
“We are.”
He took a step toward her.
“You are a rule breaker, Lawrence Derrickson.”
“Perhaps.” Another step. “But there’s one rule I did not break,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them. “Despite wanting to desperately.”
He stood close enough for them to touch, but he’d not make the first move.
Not this time.
“Which rule is that?” she asked, cocking her head. Her lips stayed parted, and he could see the tip of her small pink tongue.
“The one that restricts a man from going after another man’s girlfriend.”
Toni lifted her chin, defiance and longing sparkling in her amber eyes. “I’m not his girlfriend now.”
Fuck.
It was all the invitation he needed.
Lawrence wound his hand into the silken hair at the back of her neck, giving himself the briefest of moments to relish the sensation before he claimed her lips. In that moment, he transformed back from the civilized small-town bartender to the leader of men wielding broadswords and fighting to the death. Hundreds of years of learned civility withered away.
He needed to feel her flesh beneath his hands, so as she grasped at his back and pulled him even closer, Lawrence reached down to the hem of her dress and pulled it up, relishing the feel of her leg, her hip, and the curve of her ass, exposed to him by a blessedly thin thong. He wanted to grab and caress her all at once.
But the sight of her long, thin neck thrown back in ecstasy made him hunger for her in another way too. She knew what he was, but she did not know the whole of it. Unlike Alessandra, she wasn’t directly wrapped up in the mess made by the Derricksons and the Morleys.
Gently grabbing a fistful of hair, he pulled her away far enough to see her swollen lips and hooded eyes, the sight straining his already hard cock.
“In many ways I am just like you, Toni. But in others, I am nothing like you at all.”
Even though the last thing he wanted was for her to pull away from him, it needed to be her choice. All of it.
“I am a vampire,” he continued. “An immortal with the capacity to kill a human being as quickly as you peeled that lobster from its tail.” His eyes narrowed. “I would never hurt you, but I cannot promise the same of everyone we meet.”
She licked her lips and Lawrence cursed himself for having opened his mouth in the first place.
“You would never—”
“You don’t know that, Toni.”
