None of her boyfriends so far had so much as aroused even the thought of a bond, and Zia had always assumed that whoever she chose would be someone deeply steady, evenboring.Who else would she trust with her magic? Her life?
Her breath hitched as she smoothed her palm over the soft skin of her thigh. Was it crazy that when she thought of her bondmatenow,all she pictured was Harlan?
He was a criminal. Anassassin.He was also twice her age and a vampire.
Absolutely none of those things were on her list for traits a good bondmate should have.
And yet she felt so acutely alone without him there beside her — her magic reaching and reaching with desperate hands for a being who was not there — that she could not lie to herself. This was not simply about the chemicals of attraction making her moon over her boss. It was about a fundamental, singular connection.
Whuff! Lot to process,she thought, forcing herself to sit up and reach for her phone. Plucking it off of the charging pad, she was pleased to see a message from Harlan waiting for her.
Mr. Bounds - 6:01 AM: I am picking you up at seven tonight. Dress warm.
Mr. Bounds - 6:02 AM: On second thought, don’t get dressed until I get there.
Mr. Bounds - 6:03 AM: Also, there are guards stationed around your property now. Let me know if they bother you.
Zia gnawed on her lower lip. The socially awkward part of her hollered at her to keep her cool, to play some sort of normal, casually sophisticated woman he might be used to. But who was she kidding? He knew she was a dork already.
Decided, she released her bruised lip with a determined grunt.Screw cool.Hoping that he might still be awake, she shot him a reply.
Zia - 6:35 AM: Thank you for the heads up about the guards. I’ll tell you if I can’t deal with them.
Zia - 6:36 AM: I can’t wait to see you tonight.
Drawing on that heady sense of power she so briefly savored, Zia dared to send one more message.
Zia - 6:38 AM: P.S. Do panties count as getting dressed?
Cheeks flushing at her own audacity, she hastily tossed her phone onto the bed and swung her legs out from under the covers. Her toes curled against the thin carpet as she trotted down the hall to her small bathroom.
Running through her morning routine on autopilot, she tried very hard not to think of her phone, or her vampire, or her date tonight, or the pretty little wound that decorated her inner thigh. She tried.
By the time she made it back into her bedroom and managed to pull on some comfortable weekend lounge clothes, she was all but vibrating with the need to check her phone. Her heart jammed itself into her throat as she reached for it.
He’s probably asleep,she tried to warn herself.Don’t get your hopes up. You probably won’t hear from him until—
Zia squeaked and nearly threw the damn thing when it began to vibrate in her hand. Fumbling with it, she managed to flip it over to seeMr. Bounds - INCOMING CALLflashing across the screen.
Before she could over-analyze or freak out, she hit the button. Too late, she realized it was a video call.
Zia stared at the image on the screen with her lips parted. Harlan was clearly laying in bed, the screen barely enough to illuminate the hard angles of his face, the lines of his upper body and long, black hair spilled across a jewel green pillow. His eyes were half-lidded, their night-glow translated strangely through the lens of the camera.
“Good morning, my Zia,” he rasped, lips curling into a devastating smile.
He knocked the wind right out of her. Zia’s knees turned to water, forcing her to sit down on the edge of her bed with a smalloof!“Good morning,” she wheezed.
Harlan, the bastard, stretched one arm back and under his head, showing off slopes of thick muscle covered in reddish-brown skin. “How are you feeling today?”
“I…” Zia had to swallow before she could get more than that one syllable out. “I feel a little tired. But mostly good.”
He wasn’t an easy man to read by any stretch of the imagination, but she liked to think that she was quickly getting better at it. There was a definite light of satisfaction in his gaze when said, “That’s normal. The first bite can be intense, and some anchors react more strongly than others.” His tone turned wry when he added, “You got a large dose of venom last night, too. I’m sure that’s a part of it.”
A small, uncomfortable feeling wormed its way through the warmth in her chest. Before she could think to censor herself, she asked, “Have you had a lot of anchors?”
She watched him blink slowly. His lashes, dense and curly like a cow’s, fanned over his cheekbones before they lifted again. “I’ve bitten a few others,” he admitted, expression unreadable.
Zia held her breath. Below the sight of the camera, she curled her fingers into her duvet cover.Right, of course.
