"We're going fifteen miles per hour!"
"That's too fast!"
Simon muttered something that got lost in the engine noise but sounded deeply exasperated. The bike picked up speed as they turned onto the main road, and Charlie gave up any pretense of dignity. He plastered himself against Simon's back, eyes squeezed shut, fingers twisted in the leather jacket.
Every turn pressed them closer together. Every acceleration made Charlie's already confused body even more confused. He was terrified. He was starving. He was pushed up against someone who radiated heat and strength and could probably bench press him with one hand.
His fangs ached, and he wasn't sure this reaction was entirely caused by hunger.
"Stop shaking," Simon called back over the wind.
"I'm not shaking!"
"You're vibrating like a phone on silent."
"That's because I'm terrified!"
Simon took a sharp turn and Charlie made an undignified sound, burying his face completely against Simon's back. Through the leather, he could feel muscle, solid and reassuring.
And Charlie really liked his scent.
It wasn't something he should think about, but every smell was more intense now that he was a vampire, and this wasn't one he could ignore.
No matter how much he should not be sniffing the man who wanted to stake him.
All his traitorous body knew was that Simon was warm and strong and?—
The bike slowed.
Charlie cracked one eye open. They were pulling into an underground garage.
"You can let go now," Simon said.
Charlie realized he was still clinging like a koala. He carefully unwound his arms, trying to dismount with some dignity.
His legs immediately gave out.
Simon caught his elbow before he hit the concrete. "Pathetic."
But even as he said it, his other hand came up to Charlie's shoulder, steadying him properly. His grip shifted, firm but careful, making sure Charlie had his balance before starting to let go.
"I'm sorry my vampire powers don't include motorcycle expertise," Charlie snapped, then immediately cringed. "I mean—sorry. Thank you. For not letting me fall."
"Come on," Simon said, voice gruff. "Before someone sees us."
He headed for an elevator, but Charlie noticed he walked slower than before, staying within arm's reach. Like he expected Charlie to collapse again and was ready for it.
Charlie stumbled after him on jellyfish legs, wondering—not for the first time—what the hell he'd gotten himself into.
Chapter
Ten
The elevator opened directly into Simon's apartment, which turned out to be some kind of converted loft that probably cost more than Charlie would make in five years. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, offering a view of the city that would've been impressive if there'd been anything else to look at.
Because the space was empty. Not minimalist. Empty.
A black leather couch faced a mounted TV. A single bar stool at the kitchen island. No art on the walls. No books. No plants. No signs that someone actually inhabited this apartment.
