“What is your problem?” he asked, seeming perplexed.
I fiddled with the stem of the glass, awkward under his scrutiny and the revelation.
“I don’t like the idea of your mouth on another female’s neck,” I said faintly. “I can’t help it.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you jealous?”
“No,” I shot back indignantly. After a long moment I said, “Maybe.” Uncomfortable with the disclosure. I paused again. Finally, and reluctantly, I added, “Yes.”
He laughed, the hazel in his eyes gleamed in the fading light.
“It’s not funny,” I snapped. “Would you like it, if I wrapped my lips around the neck of another man?”
The laughter fell from his face. His voice was guttural, “No, I would not, but then, you do not have to feed, Amelia, so your lips would be there for another purpose.”
I stared at him, searching for the right words, which seemed to stumble incoherently in my mind. Finally, on a whispered, pained breath, I asked, “Are your lips sometimes there for any other purpose?”
He held my stare. I could see the shadows form across his eyes. I couldn’t read his mind. But his eyes expressed his thoughts, and they changed in a blink, dependant on his mood, in ways I’d never known anyone else’s to do. Right now, they were brooding oceans. The silence was long and unbearable.
“Are you asking me if I’m having sex with other women?”
I would have thought that was obvious. Still, I bit my bottom lip, bowed my head, and answered.
“Yes.” I swallowed, found some strength in my voice, and lifted my head back up. “I know sex for your kind isn’t a big deal, I just don’t know if . . .” The words got lost in the choke in my neck. “If you do that and think nothing of it.” As soon as the words fell out, I regretted them. Because I didn’t know how I might handle an answer I didn’t want to hear. I dropped my head again, staring at the floor, watching as a lone ant marched across the wooden grain. Feverishly praying he said no.
He moved over. His fingers lifted my chin gently. Our eyes locked, his were tender and a little amused. “No, I have not slept with anyone else since we have been together.”
“I just . . . I wasn’t sure,” I stumbled, struggling to explain myself. “Monique said I wouldn’t be enough, so I didn’t know if you needed more.” I toyed with my ring.
“You are more than enough for me.” His voice was raw. He stroked my cheek with his finger. My heart fluttered and filled with relief. And yet he was going away because I’d annoyed him, he was escaping. I kept my head down. The ant had made the edge of the balcony and then disappeared over the side into the darkness. I could feel him examining my face.
I raised my head and gave him a small smile.
He looked puzzled. “Does that not please you?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “It does. Of course.”
“Then what is the problem now?”
“No problem.” Then, immediately blurted. “Are my human emotions a bit much for you?”
He viewed me with lingering puzzlement. “I’m a vampire, I feed off people. You accept that and yet you are wondering if your emotions might be too much for me to handle?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me for a moment, considering his answer. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I struggle to understand you, but I think that’s part of what draws me to you. You do not think like I do, or like anyone I know. You enjoy emotions I do not feel. You captivate me.”
Captivate.One word, one perfect, beautiful word. My heart blossomed like a spring sun on a budding flower. I waited for him to expand on the comment, but my pause was met with silence.
“You feel, I see it in your eyes,” I argued lightly.
He shook his head. “Not like you.”
“That’s not true,” I objected. “I see kindness, caring, lust, anger. All normal human emotions.”
“Perhaps you see what you want to see,” he answered, almost melancholy, turning to gaze at a point in the distance as the sun said its final hurrah.
“Rubbish,” I scoffed. “Just because you bury it sometimes doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
