I’d missed a text from J.M. earlier, asking how it was going. I thought about replying, since it was kind of nice that someone was checking in with me, but a glance at the clock had me putting the phone down. If he was like most people and kept the phone near his bed, and it was on, I might wake him. I doubt he cared about my day that much.
I brushed my hair, glancing at the window again. A part of me wanted to wait until dawn approached in the hopes Darius would take what he needed and go right to sleep. I knew vampires treated the days like most humans treated the nights, though. They needed sleep, but as long as the sun didn’t touch them, they didn’thaveto sleep. Darius could stay up all day if he was closing in on a kill.
Me, sexually speaking.
I blew out another breath as my stomach flipped.
The days and nights with that other vampiresurfaced in my memory. It was still the most enjoyable thing I’d ever experienced. The very best. Nothing could quite compare. As soon as their saliva hit your bloodstream, that was it. Your body was no longer your own. Suddenly it was a pleasure cruise taking you away, and in the past, I’d wanted nothing more than to ride that boat all the way out to sea.
Granted, my mom had just died at the time. Really, I’d wanted a seat on any boat leaving the harbor because I was not stable. Instead of resorting to drugs, I had found a vampire.
I was a different person now, though. An experienced, knowledgeable person who was mostly stable. It would be absurd to assume a vampire could still affect me the same way…
After another sip of whiskey, I dried my hair in a towel and stared at the closed door dividing Darius’s room from mine. He’d closed it after delivering the whiskey. When I went over to him was completely up to me. Despite all his talk about chasing and hunting, he was giving me the control.
He probably knew that if I didn’t have it, I’d tell him to get lost.
“Oh, this is a terrible idea,” I said as another wave of butterflies surged through my stomach. “A terrible, bad idea.” The whiskey went down a little quicker that time.
“But really, what’s the worst that can happen?” Iasked myself, needing to hear a voice, even my own. “I should call Callie.”
I shook my head. Another terrible idea. She’d start plotting Darius’s death immediately. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And if I tried to explain, she’d tell me how stupid I was for having promised such an asinine thing.
“Iamstupid. Oh my God, I am so stupid.” Another gulp of whiskey. “But again, what’s the worst that can happen?” I thought about it for a second. “The absolute worst would be if I fall into a trance and start worshipping the ground he walks on. If I lose myself to him.”
That wasn’t helping. I shouldn’t think of the worst.
“What’s the best that can happen?” I asked myself as I shrugged into my T-shirt. “If I stick out my neck, give him the blood he needs, and he absolutely hates the taste, maybe it’ll break the spell I somehow have over him.”
I nodded. Yes. That was the best thing. I needed to hope for that thing.
My yoga pants went on, and I took another shot of whiskey, summoning my courage.
This was worse than slowly creeping around someone’s house waiting for them to pop out like a jack-in-the-box. Horror movies should be made of what I was about to do.
Oh wait, they were. And for good reason.
I closed the sun-proof drapery and faced that door again. It was time. I couldn’t stall any longer.
I felt like dead Reagan walking.
When I reached the door, I hesitated, then ran back for another shot. In times like these, I wished I had a normal person’s alcohol tolerance. As it was, the alcohol was just taking the fine edge off. I still had a lot of stress and anxiety. Alotof stress and anxiety.
Back at the door, I lifted my hand to knock. Then realized it was technically my door.
After opening it, I sucked in a breath.
All of the available raised surfaces were covered in lit candles, radiating warm, flickering light. Rose petals littered the floor and the made bed. Darius sat on his sofa, dressed in a tailored suit and swirling a glass of something brown in a snifter.
As I walked in on wooden legs, he inhaled the contents of his glass before taking a sip. He turned his gaze to me. “I miss a good cognac.”
“I…should change…” It wasn’t quite a question, but was definitely leaning in that direction.
“Of course not. You look as beautiful as ever.” He stood gracefully and waved his hand toward the bottle of cognac on the coffee table in front of him. “Please, would you care for a glass? Or perhaps you’d rather bring in the whiskey? I can also ring for anything you’d like. Name it. Are you hungry?”
I’d called for room service shortly after our return to the hotel—and proceeded to eat more than a starving pig. Otherwise I would’ve said yes. One thing I did love about my dad’s heritage—I could eat all day without gaining a pound.Thatpart definitely wasn’t human. My mom used to curse me for it.
“I’ll get the whiskey.”
