His snuffling tickles my throat. I squirm to press him closer, for a firmer touch, more real and less teasing. Stupid of me because as his lips make contact with my flesh, I’m forced to suppress a moan.
A vampire who’s just told me my blood smells intoxicating is mouthing at my throat, yet my only worry is not to let on how much I like it for fear he might stop.
Bowie doesn’t stop. He licks my neck, one broad stripe, like another wolf, not a lover. “You taste nice too.” His breath is cool over the wet patch he’s left behind.
I shiver.
He rises to catch my gaze. “You did lick me first.” It’s dark, but somehow I know his eyes are sparkling. “It’s only fair.”
He’s teasing, and I like it. But a part of me also wishes he were serious. A part that longs for Bowie to look at me with desire rather than the fondness of blooming friendship. I’m quiet, watching him watch me, enjoying his closeness.
Bowie’s smile fades. He lays his head back down beside mine and gives my waist a squeeze. “Good night, my dear. Sleep well.”
I return the embrace, determined to be content just to have him in my arms. It’s more than I’ve ever had before, and I won’t take the intimacy for granted.
“Night, Bowie. Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 9
As soon as Bowie is safely able, we rise, collect our things for the journey, and head downstairs so I can eat before we say goodbye. I’ll miss waking to an extravagant breakfast. Catherine insists I eat my fill, and when I stop after one serving, she loads another plate herself and sets it in front of me with a pleased expression.
“You’re a growing young man. Eat up,” she orders.
I won’t argue with Bowie’s sister, and the extra portion of roasted fowl spiced to perfection slides down without protest. Bowie grins as he watches me eat.
Jakob joins us, and I meet him for the first time with my mouth stuffed full of vegetable stew. He’s all smiles and laughter, so I don’t feel bad. His plate is piled as high as mine, and he’s nearly twice my size. A gentle giant, who greets his wife with a kiss to her lips that makes her blush, and his daughter with a gentle pluck of her curls so they bounce out of place.
“Father, really,” Cecily tuts, grooming her hair back into submission.
Jakob winks, and her put-on little scowl lifts to a grin.
Bowie brought the packet of maps and information Istvan curated for our journey, but we can’t go over them with Cecily present. The subject might frighten her. He chatters away while the rest of us eat. If it bothers him that he can’t partake, he does an excellent job of hiding it behind words.
“If Lilith dashed in front of a stampeding horse, would you do so as well?” he asks Cecily after she pleaded for a new puppy of her own because if Lilith could have one, why couldn’t she?
“Well, of course not, Uncle. That’s silly,” Cecily huffs.
“Might it also be just a smidgeon”—he lingers on the word, holding two fingers pinched close together—“silly to have a puppy only because your friend does?”
But Jakob shrugs. “I don’t see what it would hurt.”
Her eyes light up. “Really, Papa?”
Catherine casts a pointed glance at her husband. “Then that’s you caring for the pup when Cecily bores of it because we can’t ask Istvan to take on yet another task around this place. The staff is burdened enough as it is.”
“I shall take care of him myself,” Cecily promises. “Cross my heart.” Her gaze lands on me. “Have you ever had a puppy, Andras?”
Surprised by the question, I open my mouth to say that I haven’t when Bowie’s expression turns amused. He jumps in to answer in my stead. “Litters and litters full of them. Some of them still behave like pups, though they are grown. I saw a few when we met.”
“What kind?” asks Cecily. “Racing hounds like the one I will have?”
“No, dear. They’re more like wolves.” Bowie wrinkles his nose. “Smelly ones called Ozor and Jolan and one particularly nasty one called Farkas.”
I try and fail to conceal my laughter.
“You must be kind to your pup so he grows up to be kind himself,” Bowie says to Cecily, but his sparkling eyes are on me as I chuckle.
“Of course I’ll be kind.”
