AllFreeNovel
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“I don’t always wear suits.”
“But even when you wear jeans, they’re designer. Those are Balmain, aren’t they? Uber-trendy and they cost something like fifteen hundred dollars.”
“So I have money.” I took the armchair next to her and stretched out my legs. “What’s your point?”
Actually, I didn’t know what brand the damn jeans were, or how much they cost. My personal assistant Avril bought most of my clothes.
“Not that you’re rich. That even when you wear jeans, they’re the perfect choice. Like the ‘Perfect Prince.’” She made air quotes around the phrase.
She was starting to get to me. “I’m not perfect,” I said in a voice as flat as hers. “And I fucking hate that hashtag.” If I ever discovered who’d started it, I was going to mess them up.
“It fits,” she muttered.
“Finish your dinner,” I growled. “You look like you need it.”
With a shrug, she reached for the drumstick again. Her pearly teeth sank into the meat, delicately greedy.
I didn’t usually watch humans eat. When you’re born a blood drinker, the foods that humans find delicious can turn your stomach. Fried bird parts? Mashed-up goose liver? And don’t get me started on tofu…
But seeing Twilight bliss out over her dinner was better than foreplay. I couldn’t stop looking at her. The blood craving awoke, a low thrum in my veins.
Finishing the drumstick, she spread foie gras on a piece of the baguette and took a bite. Her eyes closed in pleasure.
“This is so good. Everything is.”
I grunted, my mind’s eye seeing those soft, warm lips closing around my dick instead of the bread. I shifted on the chair, looked away. Iwouldkeep the upper hand this time around…even if it killed me.
“So.” She glanced at where my unbuttoned shirt gaped open over my abdomen and trailed off like she’d forgotten what she’d meant to say.
Maybe this thing wasn’t as one-sided as I’d believed.
“So.” She took a sip of wine. “What happens now?”
My gaze flicked to her throat. The craving increased.
I went to the wet bar for a glass of blood-wine. “I have to be here another night. You’ll be allowed out during the day, but only with a guard.”
“Fuck you, too,” she muttered.
“You don’t think I know you’d leave as soon as we fell asleep?”
“You could try trusting me.”
I simply looked at her.
Her mouth thinned. Leaning forward, she plucked a strawberry from the bowl on the tray, exposing her back and the rose-and-dagger tattoo.
That tat was the biggest mystery of all. How had she fallen so far? What had happened to turn a slayer—and a good one, according to the PI—into a blood slave?
Twilight glanced at me over her shoulder and caught me staring. She straightened and turned sideways so I couldn’t see her back.
“And then what happens—after tomorrow night?”
I took my wine around the couch and sat down beside her. “Then we leave here.”
She put the strawberry down and set the plate on the coffee table. “To go where?”
“You don’t need to know.”
