Page 13 of Vampire Pack

He walked me through the apartment and into my bathroom. The mirror was still slightly fogged up from the heat of my shower, and King silently flipped the switch to start the fan as we passed it.

The bathroom wasn't massive, but it was modern and clean, and spacious enough for a winged vampire to move around freely.

I met his gaze in the mirror.

I was partially naked, with my shirt draped over one of my shoulders. That wasn't significant to me—but having him, and his wings, and his hands on my bare body? Seeing him touch me casually, that way?

That was significant.

I tried not to admit it to myself, though.

King eased the fabric over my head carefully, exposing my bruises. I'd tried not to look at them earlier, but yeah. They were pretty bad.

Hurt something fierce, too.

At least my headache was getting a little better.

A quiet growl escaped him as he took in the wound. "You should've gone straight to the medical team. Can you even lift your arm?"

"Yes," I lied.

He started lifting it. This time, his face was on my expression, in the mirror. He stopped the movement as soon as I flinched.

"You have to take better care of yourself, Yorkie."

"I'm fine. I'll heal in a few days. The next game will be rough, but I'll manage. I always do."

"I don't just want you to manage." He held my gaze as he lowered his lips to my bruised, swollen shoulder. And kissed me there.

Lightly.

I swear, I almost came from the sight and words alone. Whatever spell this man had on me, I simultaneously needed to escape it, and wanted to drown in it.

His lips moved up my shoulder. Brushed my throat.

"You have to stop," I breathed.

"Alright."

He pulled his lips away, and let go, too.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the need to have him closer.

"You don't have to let me touch you, but I won't tolerate you treating yourself like this," he said quietly.

"You not tolerating this is why it keeps happening."

"No. It keeps happening because I haven't knocked enough sense into the other teams yet."

"If you kill someone, you're out of the league. You know that."

"I can get really fucking close without killing them." It wasn't a threat. It was a statement.

"Whatever. You at least have to stop screening me after you lose your shit. Hockey is violent. I'm going to get injured sometimes."

"Goalies don't fight."

"Goalies fight sometimes."