"Promise."
She kisses me. Soft and sweet.
"Then I can sleep," she says.
She's asleep before I am. I can tell by the way her body relaxes against mine, the way her breathing evens out.
I stay awake a little longer. Watching her. Memorizing the way she looks in my arms, in my bed.
There are words I want to say. Words I'm not ready to say. Words that feel too big, too terrifying, too much like handing someone a weapon and hoping they won't use it.
But looking at her now, I think maybe I'll find the courage. Soon. When the time is right.
The sun pulls at me, and I let my eyes close.
The last thing I feel before dormancy takes me is her breath against my chest, steady and even.
Mine.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Iwake slowly.
That's unusual. Since I was turned, waking has been instant. One moment dormant, the next alert. No transition. No gradual drift toward consciousness.
But tonight is different. Tonight I surface in stages, awareness seeping in like water through sand. First, the weight of blankets. Then the coolness of sheets against my bare skin. Then the solid presence of a body pressed against my back, an arm draped over my waist, breath stirring my hair.
Maximus.
The memories flood back. His mouth on mine. His hands everywhere. The desperate, consuming need that drove us both past the point of control. The things we did to each other, the sounds we made, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the universe that mattered.
I'm in his bed. In his arms. Naked and sore in ways that make me want to smile.
I don't move. Don't want to break whatever spell is holding thismoment together. Outside the blackout curtains, evening has fallen. I can feel it in my bones, that vampire awareness of the sun's position. We slept through the entire day, tangled together, dead to the world in the most literal sense.
His arm tightens around my waist. He's awake. I can tell by the shift in his breathing, the subtle tension in his muscles.
"Stop pretending to sleep," he murmurs against my hair.
"I wasn't pretending. I was savoring."
"Savoring what?"
"This." I press back against him, feeling every inch of his body against mine. "Waking up with you."
He makes a sound low in his throat. Something between a growl and a sigh. His hand splays across my stomach, pulling me closer, and I feel him hard against my lower back.
"Good evening," I say. "Or night. Whatever."
"Evening." His lips find the curve of my neck, press a soft kiss there. "How do you feel?"
"Like I was thoroughly wrecked by an ancient vampire lord."
"Wrecked." I can hear the smile in his voice. "That's the word you're going with?"
"Would you prefer ravished? Debauched? Absolutely ruined for anyone else?"
