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Retrieving a brocade vest, Cypress assisted him in tying it behind his back. It cinched him in a way that showcased his broad chest and slim waistline. He looked the perfect picture of sleek grace and elegance. Wandering over to his bedside table, Haven reached inside to withdraw a gold brush. Holding it out to Cypress, he commanded, “Now brush my hair.”
Haven knew he sounded a petulant child, but still, Cypress took the brush. As Haven turned and seated himself on the bed, Cypress came up behind and scooped his long golden strands behind his back. Slowly, delicately, Cypress began to pull the brush through Haven’s soft waves.
It fell quiet between them, the air rife with tension. Haven had always loved having his hair brushed. His mother had done it for him as a child. It was a calming sensation that, if Haven allowed, might lull him to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, he needed to remain ever alert and vigilant.
Despite himself, Haven felt his eyes slipping closed. The bristles on his scalp felt so outrageously good. He sighed, turning to grasp Cypress’s hand and stop the brush’s movement, when he caught sight of the human’s closed eyes and deeply inhaling chest. Immediately, those deep brown eyes snapped open, sheepishly connecting with Haven’s as though fearing he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“What were you doing?”
Cypress cleared his throat. “Brushing your hair.”
Haven rolled his eyes. “And what else?”
Cypress squirmed under his unrelenting gaze. “Your hair…smells good.”
Haven almost gave in to the laugh that begged to escape his lips. “You were…smelling my hair?”
Was that a faint flush coloring the slayer’s cheeks? He seemed flustered and boyish, and it was almost…endearing. “Not on purpose. I—”
“A trick my mother taught me. Perfuming the hair with oil serves the dual purpose of keeping it soft and making it smell good.”
“Clever trick. I didn’t know vampyres needed oil to make their hair soft.”
“We don’t. I do it anyway.” How to tell him it was because it reminded him of his mother? Doing so would be unwise, would only make him more vulnerable to this human. So he kept that tidbit to himself.
“The scent suits you.”
Haven blinked, a rush of heat shooting through him as he imagined Cypress leaning in and pressing his nose to his scalp. Heat pooled in his belly as they regarded one another. “Does it?”
Cypress nodded, running the brush through Haven’s locks, turning his gaze away. “It’s like plum and vanilla.”
He could feel Cypress’s breath. He was too close. Again. How was it that Haven always seemed to allow this human to get too close? The gentle brushing of his fingers against Haven’s neck as Cypress pulled his hair back and smoothed it down sent a bolt of arousal unbidden down Haven’s spine. He swallowed hard. Too close. Too much.
“That’s enough,” Haven said, grasping hold of the brush and connecting automatically with Cypress’s stilled hand.
“Don’t want to over-brush,my Lord?”The contact between their fingers was warm and electric. Haven pulled away. “Shall I style it for you as well?”
Haven stood, straightening his vest before retrieving a solid black jacket from the bureau. Slipping it on his shoulders, he allowed his hair to fall free behind him. “No. Thorne likes it best unstyled.”
“Do you do everything in accordance with Thorne’s tastes, then?” Cypress stared at him, refusing to break his gaze. Such a haughty, arrogant human. He looked at Haven with naked longing. And with his tan, muscular body, he wasn’t exactly unappealing to Haven’s tastes either.
In another life, Haven might have even desired Cypress in return. But thinking about what might have been was a foolish endeavor. There was no room in his life—if one could even call it a life—for such frivolous fancies. Besides, the thought of being with a human was...too much. Especially after what the Veritas had done. He wasn’t sure he could ever allow a human to touch him again.
Everything Haven did, he did with a certain measure of control. He could control his thirst, perhaps better than any other vampyre in Alnwyck. But who knew what would happen if he allowed a human to get that close? It had happened once before. He wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
“Thorne is my sire. You wouldn’t understand the strength of our bond with your feeble human mind,” Haven barbed.
“No, of course not. I’d hardly let the fiend fuck me whenever he wants like apet.”Cypress said the word in such a derogatory way, heat flared to Haven’s cheeks.
“Do you ever consider the consequences of your words?” he shot, and Cypress glared at him.
“Of course I do.”
“Yet you insist on speaking out of turn, asking impertinent questions and insulting your superiors. Why is that?”
Cypress shrugged. “I suppose it’s not in my nature to be quiet and obey.”
“How did you survive all those years in captivity, I wonder?”
