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Her whole body stiffened. “You want me to go hunting with you?” That was his usual reason for taking the bike out. She had experienced the worst of him in his memories and with her own eyes. There was no point in witnessing more. Especially now, when there was no telepathic link between them to keep her safe when he became aroused.
“No. I had enough of that to keep me for a while.”
“Then where would we go?”
“Anywhere you want. Just you and me and the night.”
Where Cassidy wanted to go, no motorcycle was required, but she bit off that thought before it could leave her tongue. This was Dominique trying something new—being with her without being in her head—and she would give it a chance. Anything was better than spending another night wondering what was going on with him.
She shut off the stove and poked at the somewhat overdone omelet. It would keep for breakfast.
“You can take me to dinner. We could talk.”
“Excellent.” He released her to pull a storage container out of the cabinet and began piling the salad ingredients into it. His gold-flecked hazel eyes sparkled as he lapsed into French, his go-to language when he got excited. His relief at not having to bite her was painfully obvious.
She tried to follow his words. Without a direct connection to his mind, her comprehension of French was dicey, but “bistro français” was clear enough.
“Cuban,” she interrupted. “There’s a new Cuban place in Jupiter that’s getting rave reviews.”
He hesitated before nodding. “Your wish is my command, chérie. Cuban, it is.”
So much for being compelled, she thought as she went upstairs to get dressed. Too bad Jackson isn’t here to see it.
Traveling south had not been in Dominique’s plans, much less with Cassidy in tow. South was where the other vampire hunted, and he had no intention of crossing paths with her again, much less expose Cassidy to a threat of that magnitude.
This possibility ate at him all the way down the highway, even as he reveled in the feel of her clinging to his back. He matched his speed with prevailing traffic, but couldn’t resist the occasional artful swerve that made her gasp and giggle inside her helmet.
At the restaurant, he ordered for them in Spanish. When the food arrived, he left his own small plate of papas rellenas untouched while she demolished her order of bistec empanizado.
No other blood-drinkers lurked among the boisterous crowd, allowing him to focus solely on her. She wore his favorite sweater, no doubt a conscious decision on her part. It was a thin, muted blue garment that was as seductive to the touch as it was to the eye, leaving as it did, one sun-kissed shoulder invitingly bare. Last time she had worn it, he’d been unable to maintain a coherent thought in his head until he nuzzled into her neck and…
No. That wouldn’t happen tonight. It could not.
He took pains to keep his eyes away from her shoulder and concentrated instead on her voice. They spoke as they had not in a while, about their pasts and aspirations, delighting in the challenge of translating into actual words what they both already knew emotionally and from shared memories.
Cassidy reaffirmed her intention of making a success of her position at the Gazette for the next year or two and then use the experience to qualify for opportunities elsewhere. Where didn’t matter to Dominique. Where she went, he would go. Keeping her safe was his top priority, closely followed by reversing his own cursed condition, slim as that possibility was.
Neither one of them mentioned the prophecy.
Though they talked and laughed like any other couple there, the sense of loss over their bond haunted them. She gamely followed his lead and didn’t mention it, but she couldn’t hide the flashes of sadness in her eyes. He felt it, too. Mutual sorrow lingered where a live wire of connection should have crackled.
Back at the cottage, on the front porch, she thanked him for a “delightful evening” with a gentle kiss that quickly turned passionate. He melted into her yielding mouth as deeply as he longed to melt into her body, her blood, her very soul, and she met him with staggering desperation. His hunger sharpened into a fine steel blade slicing through his heart and emerged in a soft, throbbing growl.
Encouraged, she slid an inquisitive hand down his back and took brazen hold of his buttocks. The memory of another hand working another part of another body exploded in his mind. In an instant, his pure yearning for her twisted into every degenerate lust roused by that kill, a seething depravity demanding satisfaction.
Somehow, he stopped himself from bolting out of her arms, withdrawing instead with profound regret.
“Would you like to come in?” Her voice was smoky with desire. “For a nightcap?” She tucked her shoulder-length hair behind one ear and inclined her head toward the door.
The pulse ticking in her neck drew his attention without mercy. As did the sound of blood rushing in her veins, and the knowledge of the tantalizing sweater she wore beneath her jacket.
“Not a good idea,” he said quietly. If he stepped through that door, not taking her up on her invitation would be impossible. His teeth would find their mark, he would merge with her, and she would know this new vile appetite. After that, she wouldn’t want to be in the same house with him, much less the same bed.
Her hands sunk into the pockets of her jacket. “Still haven’t figured it out, have you?”
“No. Not yet.” Maybe never. Could they exist like this after the intimacies they had shared? Or would she consider it yet another abandonment in her life? But wasn’t what he was saving her from worse? Or was he just delaying the inevitable, and he would lose her either way?
They stood shrouded in darkness, the silence between them filling with an intrepid cricket and the ocean’s mumbling.
