“Because this is wrong,” she whispers. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath hitching. I know it, and I know we’re playing with fire. Every inch of reason left in my mind is telling me to push her away. But something else within me, far more visceral, can’t stand the thought of her lettinggo.
“And you’re scared of me,” she says, short nails running over the moon etched on my skin.
“I’m not.” I want to see her. I have to see how she’s looking at me and know if her need is anything like my own.
“You should be,” she says, and I feel her lips, soft at first, replacing her fingers against the sensitive skin of my neck. Every nerve in my body comes to life, and I inhale sharply, biting down my reaction. “Tell me to stop,” she says, before tugging at my shirt. Her lips meet my shoulder, and I can barely think straight, but I do know that I don’t want her to stop.
“Why?” I ask, digging my nails into her arm.
“Because I want you,” she says, and I gasp when I feel her tongue running up my neck. I bite down on my lip. I want her, too. I’ve wanted her since I first saw her. Her lips are still on my skin when one restless hand slips inside my shirt, and the other tugs my hair, forcing me to see my reflection. “Look at yourself,” she says, breathless, pressing her thigh between my legs.
I choke out a moan, and feel the sharp points of her fangs, tentative on my shoulder. I want it. My blood, my skin, everything, craves the wound and the ecstasy it will bring. My lips part, and I’m about to tell her to do it, take a bite, but instead all I manage is, “Christ.”
And it’s that word which breaks the spell.
She stumbles back. “Fuck,” she hisses.
Cold air brushes against my skin, and slowly I feel my sanity slipping back. I see my reflection, shirt practically off, and in a rush, I pull it back on before turning to look at her. She’s covering her ears, and her eyes, which are usually black, are glowing bright red. I step back, hitting the sink, and she recognises the fear in my features.
“Shit,” she says, sitting on the floor, covering her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Any ordinary human would run away. Instead, I take a step forward. There’s something about her expression, the guilt, that I want to wash away. Despite my better judgment, I crouch down in front of her, slowly peeling her hands off her face. “Hey,” I say, and she looks at me, her expression that of someone who’s lost. Her eyes have darkened to burgundy. “You’re all right.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “Why are you not scared?” she asks. I don’t let go of her hands.
Because you can’t hurtme.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I got carried away,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut again.
“So did I.” I let go of her hands, taking a deep breath. I don’t know what possessed me. I don’t know how she got under my skin so easily, but I can’t let it happen again.
Chapter
Fourteen
I do up the last button of my shirt. The feeling lingers. Less than a minute ago, Aliz was tugging at my bra, her lips were on my neck. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it. She’s avampire.I stare at my grey jumper and sigh, tossing it on my bed. My skin is still too warm to put it on. Only now, when we’re back in the room, do I realise how close I came to killing her.
Had I let her bite me, she would be dead. I stare at her, and she’s still rubbing her ears.
“Was it really that sore?” I ask. I know, from my missions, the effect that hearing prayers or holy words can have on vampires, but the wordChristseems to have affected Aliz more than I thought it would.
“Yes,” she says. “It’s like a really loud horn that’s also punching you in the face.” Her cheeks are red, and she doesn’t look me in the eye.
I swallow hard, trying to focus. “Sounds pleasant,” I say, sitting on the edge of my bed. She stays at a safe distance. I’m pretty sure Aliz won’t struggle to forget what just happened between us. She’ll probably have another girl in her arms tonight, anyway. Meanwhile, I’llrelive it in my mind, over and over. “What else are you allergic to?” I ask, trying to keep my thoughts in check.
Aliz stares at me warily. “Haven’t you covered that in Integration?” she asks.
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
I already know what her weaknesses are. But I want to know how a vampire explains those seemingly random curses.
“The main one is garlic,” she says. Garlic, which is flowing through my veins. Which she almost drank. “It clogs our lungs. Not a very pleasant death.”
“Why?” I ask, scrunching my brows. I take off my glasses, cleaning them.
