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“We sleep,” he says.
Glancing up at him, I see his arm tucked behind his head and his eyes are closed. His hair is still damp from the shower—he didn’t dry his like I did mine. It’s silky against the moonlight coming in from the window and I want to thread it through my fingers.
He seems completely relaxed and at ease.
But his thumb is sweeping over my knuckles as if he’s enjoying the contact. As if it’s not just in the interest of self-preservation.
Or maybe I’m just pathetic and that’s wishful thinking.
He squints one eye open and looks at me. “You’re not sleeping.”
“I’m not,” I agree.
“Do you want to talk?”
“I do.”
He hums in thought as a small grin forms across his lips. I love how he displays a hint of his fangs when he does that.
“Do you always answer questions like that?”
“Like what?”
He rolls into me so that we’re nose to nose. “Likethat.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person I’ve talked to in years.” I don’t voice that I can talk telepathically with my sister. That’s not information he or anyone else should know.
His grin disappears, replaced by the tug of his lips into a frown I want to kiss away. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is,” I agree.
He moves in closer so that his breath is on my face. “You’re doing it again.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, now a little breathless by his proximity. “I just… You have to understand. Your rejection worked on me, but mine didn’t work on you. I stillwantyou.”
His fingers drape over mine and squeeze. “Don’t worry, little witchling. I still want you, too.”
A swallow works down my throat that’s suddenly gone dry.
I’m wearing a thin nightdress. It’s not uncommon that I sleep in the nude, but that didn’t seem like a suitable option for tonight.
And he’s not wearing anything except his briefs. His suit was ruined and it’s not like I keep men’s clothing on hand.
I could have conjured him some, of course, but I selfishly didn’t volunteer that information.
“Tell me why you killed Dominique,” I say. My voice has gone taut and strained, but I need to remember why this vampire is here.
To kill me.
And now he’s half-naked in my bed under the guise ofkeeping an eye on me, but that doesn’t change anything.
“Dominique?” he asks as if the question caught him off guard.
“The dead bear shifter in my ruined garden,” I clarify. “I’m guessing he wasn’t on your list if you don’t know his name.”
He hums in agreement. “Protocol on a stealth mission is to leave no witnesses. He was rampaging all over your property and was clearly going to be a problem.”
He hesitates as if there is more to that story. “Is that why you killed him?” I ask.
