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“I’m not,” I insist. “And you can keep your hands and teeth to yourself.”
A low sound rumbles in his chest, something between a growl and a laugh. He sets the book aside, the motion deliberate, unhurried. “Fine. You can freeze.” Then he disappears beneath the blankets.
He’s made his offer, warmth in exchange for blood, and I’ve refused.
I try to sleep, hoping unconsciousness might provide some respite from the pain. It doesn’t come.
My thoughts return to Sable, imagining her face if she could see me now, stubborn to the point of freezing to death rather than accepting help from the only person who can provide it. What would she say? That I’m being foolish. That staying alive matters more than pride.
If I get sick . . . If I get pneumonia . . . I won’t survive. And if I die, no one’s going to save Sable. She’ll be sold to some monster, thinking her sister abandoned her.
My mind drifts to his touch again. The way his fingers had moved inside me, finding places that made me gasp, made my body arch toward him despite everything. I’d never felt anything like it before. The memory brings fresh heat to my cheeks, along with a shameful throbbing between my legs.
Eventually, I slide off the chaise, my knees hitting the floor hard. I stumble in the dark looking for the bed. My foot catches on the leg of a small table, and something clatters to the floor, the sound explosive in the quiet room.
He’s awake instantly, eyes glowing like burning red embers in the darkness. For a moment, he looks truly inhuman, a predator disturbed from rest. Then he sees me, and he props himself up on one elbow as I stumble toward him.
“Yes?” he asks, his tone maddeningly casual, as if I’ve interrupted him to ask a trivial question rather than fight my way across the room in desperation.
I hate how he can appear so calm while watching me suffer. I hate that he holds all the power while I have none.
I stand beside the bed, shaking violently, hating that I am giving in to him. My pride screams in protest, but my survival instinct screams louder. “It’s freezing,” I mutter, the words barely audible through chattering teeth. “Humans die from cold, you know.”
“They do,” he responds, his voice neither mocking nor compassionate. Just stating a fact, as if discussing the weather rather than my imminent death.
Tears burn my eyes, not from cold, but from humiliation. From knowing what I’m about to ask. From having to beg for something as basic as warmth.
He watches me while I try to find the words to explain that I’ve changed my mind about the bed.
“I thought you were disgusted by sharing a bed with me.”
“There is a difference between fear and disgust.”
“And what? You’ve stopped fearing me?” he asks.
My mouth opens, then closes. Just being in the room with him petrifies me, but I can’t keep freezing on the chaise.
CHAPTER 22
• Alessia •
HE SIGHS HEAVILY and pulls the blanket back, the movement surprisingly abrupt after his stillness.
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” he snaps, and for once, I’m grateful for his impatience. I was sure he would make me beg to sleep with him.
As I climb in, the warmth is immediate and overwhelming. Like plunging into hot water after being in snow. It hurts as the sensation returns to my frozen, prickling skin.
His body radiates heat. I never realized vampires ran so hot. Aren’t vampires supposed to be cold? There’s nothing cold about him as I nestle closer, instinctively seeking his warmth like a plant turning toward the sun.
When my frozen fingers brush his bare chest, he jerks, and a hiss escapes through his teeth. “Gods, you’re like ice,” he mutters, but instead of pulling away, he catches my hands between his and brings them to his mouth, blowing warm air over them, rubbing them between his palms until feeling returns.
His gaze remains locked on mine, searching for something I’m not sure I want him to find. I lie rigid beside him, waiting for him to sink his fangs into me, for the pain of his bite, now that I’m at his mercy. Nothing comes, and the anticipation is eating at me.
“Are you warming up your dinner?” I mutter weakly, unable to bear the silence and tension any longer.
“No.” He chuckles softly. “I’m warming up my future.”
I stare at him, lost for words. Before I can respond, he drags me closer, one arm wrapping around me to pull my body flush against his. I should resist, should maintain my distance, but the warmth is too seductive. I allow myself to be drawn against him, my head coming to rest on his chest where his heartbeat sounds.
