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“Some nights. I don’t know how often you were there, but the ones I didn’t feel you made me angry.” There was so much left unsaid in the admission. “Others I caught you on the cameras.”
It would take me a long time to sort out his feelings and mine and know where they intersected. There were times it was hard to tell which were mine and which were his.
“I thought so.”
He reached out, putting his hand on top of mine. “I was wrong. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my years, and maybe none so grave as hurting you.”
I took a calming breath, letting it go. I had a hard time with forgiveness, but like the rest of the feelings we both had pent up, they had to be worked out. We both had a lot of sorting and healing to do. Time would work it out, or it wouldn’t. Another thing I didn’t have the mental capacity for at the moment.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re reading this week? Or what has consumed you?” I needed a connection. The new strings we’d formed made it worse. I felt fucking needy, and I hated it.
He tapped his index finger on the book. “I’ve delved into ancient cultures because the recent history wasn’t helpful. I kept hoping I just needed to find a term, but after two weeks, I had to find a new path.”
I waved around us. “Hence the dusty books.”
“Some of them, yes. I have a collector friend who’s loaning some of them to me. Anything from the time period that mentions your or my kind, even in passing. Some of them have been tedious to get through, but I’ve gleaned a lot of knowledge.” He drained the rest of his mug.
“But a term for what?” I hated how much he kept from me.
“I don’t know yet, Dominic.” He sounded apologetic, but it didn’t change the neglect.
“Nothing in those books will save me. You should be here with me.”
“You don’t know that,” he replied with deadly calm. “Are you expecting to go anywhere today?”
“Yes, the bar and the club. I have stuff to do. You can stay here and read.”
He looked at me over the book he’d picked up. An incredulous ‘you know better’ glance. He hadn’t given me an inch of space since my mortality had struck him. Like he could hold the blood in my body with both hands if he tried hard enough.
“You taking bitch on my bike then?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t sit behind me.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll drive. I need to bring things.”
“I don’t think you need to come. My second will be there. She has my back. I’m not worried about it.” I didn’t know how he could be so distant while following me around nonstop since midsummer, but I hated it.
He gave me another look that told me I was wasting my breath. So I went back to my coffee, planning on pushing the bike idea. He could drive his damn DB9 himself. I missed my fucking bike.
“Dominic?” Vin’s grip tightened on his book as his gaze snapped to meet mine.
Cold white fear pulsed in me. I froze like I was experiencing the same momentary hesitation before the fight or flight kicked in. Wolves snapped to it faster than most beings, but Vin gave me a run for it. His mug shattered in his hand. This wasn’t going to go well.
“Between the two of us, I’m going to need a whole new set of dishes.” I laughed, but he didn’t lighten.
Vin pressed his eyes closed and sighed, like the sound it would pull from me what he wanted.
“I don’t know what you want.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you trade the priestess-witch woman for the potion?”
“Why are you bringing this up again?” I asked, hesitating. I knew I had to tell him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the can of worms saying it would. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Did you give her your blood?” he asked as if it had just clicked, slowly, articulating each word like I wouldn’t understand him if he didn’t.
“Yes,” I said, because denying it now wouldn’t do me any good. “She asked for my sperm at first, but since I went to her trying to avoid offspring, I didn’t think trading that potential would be any good.”
“You gave the witch your blood?”
“I just said yes.”
