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I raised my eyebrows at that. “Obviously, not a very good witch. The things that should scare me don’t and the things that are meant to turn me off… don’t.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“Well, I guess you could say that makes two of us. I’m supposed to hate witches. I do hate witches.”
“But?”
“But I don’t hate you,” he answered on a chuckle before his eyes glassed over with something else—something decidedly hungry. Then, in a move too fast for me to track, he arched his hips, bucking me off him. I landed on the mattress with a soft ‘oof’ of surprise, and then he was on top of me, pinning my hips with his. His robe had fallen open, and I realized he was wearing boxers and nothing else. I fought not to look down at that silky underwear, but failed. He was excited. That made two of us. Sucking in a breath, I watched as he trailed kisses in a line down my throat, hovering over the spot where my pulse beat frantically just beneath the skin.
“This doesn’t scare you?” he asked, teasing the skin with his teeth. “The thought I might bite you?”
I squirmed beneath him, embarrassed beyond belief when my body responded to the perceived threat with enthusiasm. Warmth pooled between my legs, and my hips rolled without my conscious permission. The friction between us made a moan build in my throat. I couldn’t escape the feeling that whatever this was between us was wrong, though every cell in my body wanted it.
“No,” I whispered. “It doesn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know you’re not going to tear into me like an animal.”
“Do you want me to bite you?” he asked as he pulled up onto his forearms to look at me, as if this were the most important question he could think of. “Would you let me?”
The answer was mortifying, but I couldn’t lie. “Yes.”
And then he lowered his head and I could feel his breath on my neck as his fangs sank into my skin, just a fraction, drawing two tiny droplets of blood to the surface. He laved them with his tongue, sealing the wounds almost as quickly as they formed. I could feel his frustration on the air. He repeated the process, with similar results. He was hungry, and I wanted his bite. It was playing with fire. But I threaded my hands into his thick auburn hair, rather than push him away.
“I’ve wanted this from the moment I met you,” he groaned.
“My blood?”
“To start,” he answered, voice rough with need. “But it’s more than that. I don’t want just one taste. I could swallow you whole, Astrid. I wanted to. Still want to. And that means you’re dangerous.”
It was my turn to ask why.
“How can you seriously ask me that question,” he answered, shaking his head. “You know why it’s dangerous.”
“You wouldn’t turn me.”
“I would—if you asked me to and the thought of it…” He breathed in deeply and shook his head again. “Do you know how insane it felt to want to sire you the day I met you?”
My heart beat unevenly. Sire me. He’d been thinking about turning me the entire time he’d stitched my arm up. And he’d contented himself with a kiss instead. And then later, when we’d been ready to fight, he’d been struggling against the same instinct. That had to have taken incredible restraint.
“Why did you want to sire me?”
“I still want to. It’s like this driving… need. It’s hard to explain.”
“But why me?”
“Because you were… you are different. It’d been so long since anyone cared about... who I am. What being a hostage to witches means for me. People don’t get close, because I won’t let them. It’s just been me against them all this time. Then you come in, completely and brazenly unafraid, talking to me like I’m not this thing to be pitied or feared. And your reaction to me didn’t change when you knew who and what I was. You seemed to flirt with me even more.” He laughed. “Klaus is the only person besides our merry little mystery-solving band who’s willing to look me in the eye, and I don’t swing that way.” He breathed in deeply as his eyes settled on mine again. “But you… Astrid, I wanted to keep you. You. A virtual stranger.”
“To keep me?”
He nodded. “If I sired you, that would mean you’d have to stay here with me. All heirs need their sire.”
My pulse sped, but I couldn’t work up to the fear that statement demanded. If he’d bitten me in that out-of-the-way room, I’d have let him do it. And if he’d offered me his blood to seal the pact, I’d have accepted it. Wanda would be mortified to know that, and so would Maverick. And my mother would no doubt disown me more than she already had. I knew all of that but still… I didn’t care. Part of me wanted to know what it was like. It didn’t matter that we were strangers. There was a connection here, and I wanted to explore it.
We weren’t in love. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And yet… I could see it going there if we could escape this hellish position we found ourselves in. If we found the culprits, Rook could get more freedoms—I’d be able to visit him more often. We could make it work.
