Dr. De La Cruz had made more of an impact on me than I wanted to admit. But I wasn’t human; I couldn’t comfort myself with lies. Eli had affected me. And the idea of anything bad—anything at all—happening to him was unacceptable.
Already, I felt the truth like a pulse beneath my skin: I didn’t understand why or how, but I knew Eli belonged to me. He was mine.
In the threshold hours between late afternoon and evening—when the day isn’t quite done and night hasn’t yet arrived—I made my way into the master bedroom and slept in the brand-new bed, exhausted down to my bones.
I’ve needed less and less sleep as the centuries have worn on, but I still needed some.
Three hours later, I woke to a knock at the door.
When I answered, I found Eli standing there, holding a wicker basket filled with expensive chocolate and artisanal cheeses.
The expression on his face when he saw me was priceless.
“You,” he breathed, once he’d recovered enough to speak.
“Me,” I agreed. My gaze dropped to the basket. “And you brought snacks.”
“I saw the moving trucks earlier. I was going to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“How wholesome of you.”
He blushed, and from the way his gaze raked over me—almost against his will—I got the distinct sense he had far less wholesome ideas about how else he might welcome me.
“You bought this house?”
“Yup.” I popped thepand grinned. “Paid a truly outrageous amount for it, too.”
He brushed past me into the foyer. His eyes took in the living room—already furnished with a matching sofa set, a television I’d probably never use, a designer rug, and a sleek modern coffee table.
“And you already have furniture,” Eli said weakly. “That’s… a thing you did.”
“Sure is,” I said, closing the door and following as he strode through the house like he owned it, stopping in the kitchen. “You know, it’s quite rude to enter a home without an invitation.”
He shot me a dark look over his shoulder as he pushed open the bedroom door. “Seems fair. You went into my home without permission first.”
I pursed my lips. “True.”
“What’s going on?” Eli demanded, rounding on me. “None of this makes any sense. You just pop into my life out of nowhere, drop a bunch of cryptic hints about stalking me, but then act worried about my safety?” His voice rose. “And now you’re buying the house right next door!”
“Bought,” I corrected mildly. “It’s already paid for. In full.”
Eli’s lower lip trembled. His eyes searched mine, vulnerable enough that I might have done anything for him right then. An impossible thought. “Who the fuck are you, Nicolas?”
I cupped his cheek with my palm. His eyes slid halfway closed, and he practically melted against my touch. “Does it matter?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered. “Tell me.”
“Perhaps later,” I whispered, stepping closer until our bodies touched. I felt my cock stir at his nearness, the delicious heat of him. The scent of him—like church incense—enveloped me, both calming and maddening.
But somehow, standing this close, I no longer felt like a vampire.
For the first time in eight centuries, I almost felt like a man.
And then I lowered my lips to his and kissed him.
CHAPTER EIGHT || ELI
Desire erased all logic the moment Nicolas’s lips met mine.
