Page 137 of Plug and Drain

“Yes, I do.” Her hand still rested on his cheek, and she turned his head to meet her gaze.

Bright, dazzling caramel dancing amidst the dark brown. Hauntingly beautiful, like the last rays of sunset warming a cold forest clearing. She’d never thought the sun could look so sad. “And I think…I think…”

I think you see me too.

“I’ve always liked you,” she said. “Long before you noticed me.” He winced.

She’d liked him intuitively without even realising it. Without thinking her early admiration could lead to something more. He’d been carrying a greater burden than she would have imagined possible. How much worse would life be at Volmasque with another vampire at the helm? Arken was living a shell of a life, hanging on to an existence that brought him no joy. And he was doing all of this for his students.

She drifted closer until their bodies nearly touched, his warmth enveloping her. His deep, masculine scent was laced with bergamot orange, and it was making her half delirious.

Yes, she realised, heat blooming in her core as she peered up at the vampire who was more kind, more considerate, more of an alpha than any wolf she’d ever met.

I definitely like him.

At that moment, she became sure that Arken liked her too. Not just as a pet, or a plaything. A mutual respect shimmered between them. He was holding back from touching her, so she placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Touch me.”

He swallowed, his hands drifting down, stroking her upper arms sensually. They moved lower to her waist.

Nervous tension pricked at her like a thousand nettle stings, subtle but everywhere all at once. The feeling was inescapable now that she was aware of it. It healed, and it stung, and she wanted him to run his hands all along her skin.

“Don’t do that,” Arken said softly.

“Do what?”

“I like your ears. You don’t need to hide them in front of me.”

She hadn’t realised she’d flattened them.

It’s just habit, she nearly said, but that wasn’t the truth. “I’m just nervous.”

“You don’t need to be nervous with me,” he breathed.

“I suppose you’re right.”

She leant closer, standing on her tiptoes, her lips so, so close to meeting his. All he had to do was bend his head a fraction, and they would share their first kiss.

Arken did not kiss her.

“Susanna, wait. There is more I need to tell you. About Henrikk, and about me—”

“It can wait,” she said, seizing his shirt collar, trying to drag him down.

“It cannot. I failed to warn you this morning. But there will be another assembly tomorrow. There will be changes. New rules implemented, ones I’m not proud of—”

“I don’t care,” she said, surprising herself with the intensity of her words. Her voice shook as if she were angry as she repeated, “I don’t care. Tomorrow can wait.”

Everything was broken. Everything.

There were parts that were good, and she’d long learnt to savour them.

She clutched onto Arken, holding on tightly as if she were drowning. She’d once thought of him as a rock, someone who could stop her from being lost in a stormy ocean.

But he was just a person like her. They were both lost in a world of darkness and crashing waves. They could hold onto each other. Maybe that would be enough.

“It’s important…” Arken insisted, but he was staring at her mouth.