The cum is still leaking from the head when his face contorts and he jumps up and storms away.
Dazed, I struggle to make my body obey.Stand up, I command myself through the rush of blood in my ears. It feels like an eternity until I’m able to move again and check where hewent. I ignore my cum dripping all over my thighs as I make my way to the furthest corner of the room.
With his back turned, Abas is leaning against the wall. His shoulders rise and fall in ragged exhales, like he’s trying to shake off the deepest despair. I approach him slowly, gently putting my hand on his shoulder. He jerks away and growls in frustration. I step back, completely naked and confused in the chilly night air.
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly, as if I were talking to a startled animal.
“I…” he mumbles into the wall, “I cannot speak of it.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.
He turns around suddenly, facing me, his eyes are glowing red. “Never.” He lifts his hands for a second then lets them fall again. Almost defeated.
He walks back to the fireplace. I watch him pace back and forth before sitting on the couch again. I don’t want him to leave, but I’m so frustrated, I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what to say. At least he didn’t storm away again or kick me out of his room.
I want to know what’s going on, but pulling the information out by force isn’t going to work. I try to recall every fact I’ve gathered, hoping to make sense of everything I’ve seen since coming here. I take a moment to come to reasonable and logical conclusions. Eventually, I return to the couch, pulling the blanket over myself.
I look at Abas, he’s sitting an arm’s width away. His mouth is hard while his hands are gripping the couch like it’s the only thing holding him here. He’s looking into the fire, but even from this angle, I can see his eyes glowing crimson.
“What are you?” I finally ask. A question I should’ve asked days ago.
He turns very slowly toward me, a look of infinite sadness in his eyes. He parts his lips, taking a deep inhale, then he quirksup one side of his mouth. I swallow when the firelight gleams on what he’s showing me.
Fangs.
XII
ABAS
Iknow not what possessed me, nor what impulse compelled me to reveal the monstrous truth of my existence. Perhaps it was borne of desperation? Or was it recklessness driven by Astaire’s bewildering presence? I could not bear seeing the terror in his gaze, so I shut my eyes before parting my lips, thus offering him a glimpse of my true nature.
I brace myself for a cry of terror or a recoil of disgust, but only silence lies between us. With trepidation, I dare to take a glance. There he sits, so composed and enigmatic, studying me with neither fear nor loathing, but with an unreadable curiosity. What manner of man was he that even my powers could not anticipate his actions? Suddenly, a novel exhilaration takes hold of me, for he is an enthralling disruption to the order of my existence.
“You’re a fucking werewolf?” he asks.
A laugh, sudden and unbidden, escapes me. From all the things I could foresee, this reaction was utterly astonishing.
“Are you or not?” he adds, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“No! I’m a fucking vampire,” I let out gruffly.
“Bloody hell, seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. It would be a poor joke, would it not?” I remark.
To further my point, I lift a strand of his hair with my power. He barely glances at it and, with an absent motion, presses it back into place.
“Don’t distract me with this now. Tell me everything,” he demands, his expression unperturbed.
“What would you like to know?” I ask.
“Well, for one, you walk around in the daylight, so…”
“Naturally. I adore the sun,” I explain.
“I can see that by the colour of your skin,” he says, gazing at my hand.
For the briefest moment, he lingers. He lifts a finger, almost as if to caress it, but then places it back where it was. I suppress a sigh. I want to feel his touch beyond anything, but I know it would be unwise.
