“It was Atty earlier,” he rumbled, expression cut so fierce it made a shock of something potent run down her spine. Fear, maybe, but also an arousal so deep and base, it came from some distant animal relative. “I want you to call me Atty. Loved ones call me Atty.”
Loved ones?
“Okay,” she wheezed, not following his train of thought. That didn’t seem important compared to what they’d just been talking about.
“And I want you to know something else.”
“What?”
His thumbs curved over her cheekbones as he dipped his head, bringing them so close that their breath mingled. “Not for one fucking second has this been aboutbabysittingyou. You think I would let just anyone bite me? You think I’d be out of my mind for a woman I feltobligatedto take care of? You think I’d count down the minutes until I can lick your pussy again every fucking day if I didn’t want you? All of you?”
Carmine’s eyes went wide. “But you haven’t said anything. You— you don’t feed from me. You’ve never made any claim.” And Atticus was nothing if not direct. If he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, wouldn’t he have at leasthintedthat was the case?
A look of intense incredulousness crossed his face. “Doll, did you really not realize we’ve been dating this whole time?”
“Atty,” she squeaked, “how am I supposed to know we’redatingif I’ve never done it before? I was told to expect that when a man wants me, he’ll take me. Feed from me. Claim me so no one else does. You… haven’t.”
He made the funniest garbled sound before choking out, “I thought you knew. I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready, soyoudidn’t feel obligated.” Pain tightened the skin around his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been pulling away from me? I thought you’d changed your mind. I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore, that maybe now that you were getting your feet under you, you’d decided you didn’t?—”
“Wantyou?” She sucked in an incredulous breath. “I can’t breathe when we’re apart, and I need your smiles, and I can’t drink any more synth, and I never even wanted a bite before, but when I think aboutyou—Atty, I never even let myself dream of feeling an ounce of the happiness I feel when I’m with?—”
The kiss was jarring, bone-rattling, all fang and tongue and the press of his hard body into hers. Atticus kissed her like hewanted to devour her, and Carmine kissed him like she wanted to be devoured. Her confession died in her throat. Whatever words she might have spoken were pressed into his lips and tangled around his seeking tongue.
I love you,she told him.I want you. You’re mine. Let me be yours.
Chapter Eighteen
Atticus had been good.He’d waited. He’d been patient, even when it felt like he was being eaten alive by desire.
Carmine needed time, and watching her slowly come into her own on the estate was a thing of beauty. He loved watching her discover herself. The sound of her laughter, the easy way she fit in with his family, the profound joy she took in the simplest things — it all carried him through the unbearable hours he spent waiting for her to give him the sign that she was ready for him.
He knew that he was greedy, and maybe saying he had been patient was a bit of a stretch when he monopolized her time and touched her every chance he got, but for a vampire that had chosen his anchor, he thought he’d done pretty fucking well.
Whenever he had a spare moment, he tried to think of new things for her to experience — a state fair, a two-night river cruise, dancing in a renovated fire station-turned-club, trips to bookshops and museums — and he treasured every smile, gasp, and question she aimed his way. Even when they did nothing more than sit on the couch and watch movies, her legs slung over his lap and his arm stretched across the cushions to play with her hair, he was more fulfilled than he had been in his entire life.
It turned out that he hadn’t been missing the excitement of crime. He’d been missing apurpose.
That purpose was experiencing life through Carmine’s curious eyes, watching that shy smile unfurl, tasting her hot little cunt, and feeling her sharp little fangs sliding into his throat. Every feeding, every touch, every night that crawled by without claiming her made him more certain that she was it for him.
And she tried toleave.
A flush of panic prickled his skin even as he pressed his lips against hers in a desperate, hungry kiss. The idea that he might think of her as anything less than his perfect anchor was so outrageous that he struggled to process it.
But what was she supposed to think when I never said the words?
Atticus assumed she’d justknow.She would understand why he offered his blood at every opportunity, why he took her out every chance he got, why he couldn’t quite stop himself from touching her even when he tried so hard to give her space. He was giving her room to grow and come to him in her own time. He was building trust and making damn sure that she didn’t feel like shehadto reciprocate his feelings.
But he’d over-corrected. Carmine didn’t have any references to hold him up to, only the harsh, black and white bullshit the crypt had beaten into her about what to expect from a relationship. Was it any wonder that she’d misread his attempts to court her?
“I’m obsessed with you,” he breathed against her swollen lips. “You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I dream about how you taste and I— Fuck, doll, I’d do anything to make you mine.”
A saccharine jingle from the photobooth’s console might have ruined the moment if Carmine hadn’t slipped her soft hands under the hem of his t-shirt to stroke his skin. He hissed,his abdominal muscles tensing even as his venom gland pulsed angrily, desperate for relief. The pain from it had become nearly unbearable over the last several weeks, but he’d endured it. She was worth any pain, any sacrifice.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I had to give you time,” he rasped, dipping his head to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. Her breath hitched and his cock, painfully hard behind his fly, jerked. He’d damn near rubbed it raw over the past several weeks, but not even a bit of chafing would stop it from finally, finally having her. “Couldn’t rush you. Couldn’t violate your trust. Had to make sure you knew?—”
“That you’re mine?”
