Vane rifles through my scattered belongings, presumably searching for shoes. I glance at the ornate pocket watch on my vanity to check the time. If I don’t leave in ten minutes, I’ll be late.
“Why are you here? Is Vyvyan okay?” I ask.
Vane examines a pair of towering platform heels before decisively setting them aside. He analyzes my vast shoe collection with an almost unsettling intensity, as if he genuinely believes the right pair could somehow reveal the identity of Vyvyan’s attacker.
“Vyvyan’s fine.”
I purse my lips. “Are there any new symptoms I should be aware of?”
“No.”
“So, you’re here . . . why exactly?” I ask, attempting to inject a note of defiance into my voice, despite the tremor I can’t entirely suppress.
“I came to apologize for my behavior last night,” Vane states, finally looking up from my shoe collection. His gaze is intense, almost penitent, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his visit than a simple apology tour.
I raise an eyebrow. “You, apologizing? Did Hell freeze over when I wasn’t looking?”
“Here.” He rises to his full, imposing height, and holds two pairs of shoes. “Which ones?”
I point, perhaps too eagerly, to the lace-up boots in his right hand. The buttery-soft material practically begs to be caressed, and I can’t deny the style’s visual appeal against the backdrop of my dress.
“Great choice. Now, sit, and I’ll lace them for you.” I blink. “Now, Desiree, unless you want to be late for your date.”
With narrowed eyes, I begrudgingly sit on an upholstered ottoman beside my bed.
Vane hands me the shoes before kneeling.
I slip one foot inside, then the other. They are beyond comfortable, familiarly molding to my feet. A faint scent of Misty’s favorite perfume still clings to the leather. They were a gift from her last year. She claimed they made her legs look short, a sacrifice I happily benefited from. The memory sparks a small, sad smile on my face.
“Can I ask you a question?" Vane’s hands drift over my calf. As he carefully pulls the laces, his deft fingers brush against my bare skin, sending shivers up my spine that I desperately try to suppress. “Why do you want to be here, Desiree?”
My breath hitches, a strangled sound, as he expertly ties a bow at the top of my thigh, just inches beneath my skirt’s hem. Heat builds low in my core, and unbidden images flash throughmy mind: Vane on his knees before me, his face buried between my thighs. My pulse throbs in my throat. Vane’s lips curve into a knowing, predatory smile, as if he can taste the direction of my impure thoughts, the dark fantasies swirling beneath my carefully constructed composure.
I squint at an empty coffin across the room, trying to banish the provocative image from my mind. Vane used me, discarded me, and shattered any illusion that what we shared was ever real. Still, my cheeks continue to burn.
“This is my home,” I finally reply.
“But you had a home,” he says. “A family.”
I love my family, but being a vampire is forever. The connections I make here will last an eternity.
“So did you. I told you the night you Turned me—I want this life.”
After tying the second bow, Vane’s fingers linger. My breath stalls as his thumb traces a slow, deliberate pattern on my upper thigh, making my skin burn and tingle with a thousand tiny sparks. My thighs part unconsciously.
“Maybe after tonight, you’ll feel differently,” Vane says.
“Doubt it.”
Vane smiles, and I melt entirely. The empty dorm screams temptation. Gods, I want him—needhim. It would be so easy to surrender to this ache. But his eyes are guarded, unreadable. He’s hiding something. And I can’t trust him. He’s hurt me enough.
“There’s a whole world of possibilities out there waiting to be discovered. Other Nests, other people . . . potential mates,” he murmurs, meeting my gaze.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. Why is he prodding me with suggestions to leave? While touching me, as if he cares about me? What a cruel way to mess with me. “Vyvyan,” I say, my resolve crumbling with each caress. “I’d need herpermission . . .” I gasp when his fingers move higher, my cheeks flaming at his effortless power over me. Drowning in his presence, consumed by him, feels like everything I’ve ever craved. Damn him.
“You can do it. Leave tonight and never come back,” Vane insists.
Through my desire-clouded mind, one thought breaks through. “But the case?”
