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Cedra
I hadn’t slept a wink. My reflection in the bathroom viewer was much too pale as I shed my sleep clothes and stepped into the large mister. I sighed long and hard as the mister released jets of sanitizing spray, lightly scented.
I’d spent the night just lying in bed with my pipe, thinking about the past. I used to be assaulted by memories of Riane, how happy we’d been, how she hadn’t thought twice about leaving me behind.
But last night was different. The pain had been just a dull throb, like a wound that had scabbed over.
I called to mind Riane’s lovely delicate features—her dimpled chin, soft blond hair that always smelled like the wind on our Star, and the look in her eyes when I whispered that I loved her. Ten years was a long time to spend with someone, to wake up to their scent in your bed and slowly feel it fade away from every part of your life. Leaving you just a hollow shell.
But it hardly hurt anymore. The smile I remembered so fondly, so painfully, was frayed around the edges, and her features were muted with age. Behind my closed eyelids, I could only see a remotely familiar shape now. A blurry blonde shadow.
And the reason why had kept me up all night.
I couldn’t help but feel that all the gods had been looking out for my miserable, lonely self. What were the chances that a beautiful runaway would somehow end up on my porch, begging for a job? And what were the chances that she would be my Blood Mate, something so rare among Fangers that it was revered over anything else?
It couldn’t be luck. And I couldn’t simply ignore this. Even if I wanted to ignore it, just being in her presence ignited a part of me that had smoldered to death years ago.
Sweet.
I’d relived the taste of her blood, the urgency of her kiss, the press of her softness against me too many times to count. The image—no, the experience—of her ran on a loop, and I’d let my fangs descend in the privacy of my bedroom, fantasizing what it would be like to sink them into her lovely neck...or other places, as I took her.
But it was difficult to know if she was truly willing. If she truly wanted me as I wanted her. Mating scents tended to block all logic, and I didn’t want her to have any regrets in my bed. Because I’d like to keep her there, take her to the peak over and over until she fell asleep with a satisfied smile on her face.
It had been so long since my palms had sweated for a woman. Since my core had burned for someone else’s touch. Because, dear gods, I wanted her to touch me with those unbelievably soft little hands.
I felt a growl rise in my throat as I slipped into my clothes, fresh from the mister. I remembered the feel of her fingers diving under my work shirt with such urgency, such need.
Dear gods, I ache.
I wouldn’t say my mood was foul as I stepped into the kitchen, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.
And then I saw her.
Humming to herself over the stove.
Wearing a little bit of nothing.
I stared. I couldn’t help it. The slip of a dress she wore was cut low in the back and ended at the tops of her thighs. She was bare from thigh to toes and every time she moved, the silky material seemed to flow with her.
She was wearing her hair down today, the curls brushing the back of her neck, obscuring the smooth column of her throat from view. She’d used the mister with the same soap I favored, and the scent washed over me like an unexpected assault.
I must’ve made a noise because she turned, a “good morning” poised on her lips.
My eyes were immediately drawn to the sharp vee of the neck of the dress, showcasing her breasts in the most perfect way. My mouth pooled with saliva in a few quick seconds.
“Breakfast is almost ready,” she said and turned back to the pan.
I couldn’t make myself move to the table. My mind whirled with the idea of how little stood between my bare skin and hers. After the night I’d spent thinking about her, I wasn’t able to pretend like her nakedness didn’t affect me. Those thin straps were barely any protection against my fingers. I could feel my fists curling defensively. No, Cee, stop.
“What are you wearing?” I managed to get out.
She threw me a glance over her shoulder as she plated my eggs.
“Oh, I found this in one of the boxes and thought I’d cut it to my measurements. It’s the latest fashion on Royal One. The material feels amazing. Do you know what it is? Some kind of silk blend?”
She reached up to pluck a mug from a high rack and the curve of her ass peeked out from under the hem of the dress. I needed water, air, something.
“You can’t wear that.” My throat was hoarse.
