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Now, however, a new worry crept in. I’d decided to approach Julian openly and honestly, aiming to build a relationship based on trust and cooperation. I’d rarely experienced that with any human in my life. The closest I’d come was with Karl. I hadn’t considered how the actual feeding would affect Julian, though. I’d seduced countless humans to get close enough to feed, always finding it the quickest way to get what I wanted in the moment.

This was different.

I’d never formed a long-term relationship with any of them. The encounters were rehearsed and marked by deceit. Was I capable of nurturing the kind of relationship this arrangement would require?

The way Julian had looked at me earlier intrigued me but also sowed a seed of doubt. The idea of a physical relationship with him—while attractive—felt dangerous. I wasn’t sure I could both feed from Julian and be his lover. Could I give in to those impulses and still maintain control over the feeding? I didn’t know. What I did know was that complicating the relationship was a surefire way to endanger what I was trying to nurture between us. No. It was safer to keep things between us friendly but strictly platonic. I made up my mind then to quash any disruptive impulses—in either of us. It was for the best.

24

JULIAN

Vincent left the kitchen, and I continued to put the groceries away in the cupboards. Although I kept my eyes on what I was doing, all my attention was on the vampire walking down the hall, on the echo of his footsteps on the hard floor, and on the sound of the bedroom door as he opened and closed it. My chest felt tight, not because of any anxiety or fear.

Once everything was put away, I returned to sit by the fire. Without thinking, I sat back down in the same spot where I’d fed Vincent. I touched my arm again through my sweater, over the bite. The skin still tingled, and a warmth spread through me at the memory of the act. It had been nothing like I’d expected—the way Vincent put me at ease, the gentle way he’d touched me, the feeling of Vincent’s tongue on my skin.

It had knocked me breathless.

There was pain, yes, but it was far from unpleasant. If I was honest, it had been the single most erotic experience of my life—which I supposed didn’t reflect well on my sex life.

The very thought embarrassed me. While it might have been thrilling and unique for me, for Vincent it was just eating. He’d undoubtedly done it countless times before. I reminded myself I was just food. Did I swoon over every bagel I’d ever had? Of course not. Being someone’s meal shouldn’t be arousing. I should be horrified. I should have a better sense of self-preservation, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be looking forward to doing it again.

But I was.

Over the next few days, I tried to push the thoughts from my mind. I devoted most of my time and energy to the daily tasks needed to stay warm and alive. Vincent insisted on helping with chores, and I was both grateful and annoyed. He’d already done so much to make the place livable for me. It made me uncomfortable that he wanted to chop wood for a fire he didn’t need or look for food he couldn’t eat. I didn’t want to be Vincent’s pet, though I didn’t mind the security patrols he went on each evening. After what I’d witnessed, it was reassuring to know we were safe.

Despite my best intentions, as the time approached, all I could think about was feeding Vincent. That evening, when he awoke, I was lounging on the sofa. I’d rolled up the sleeves of my plaid shirt and was trying to look relaxed, with a book resting in my lap.

“Good evening, Julian,” Vincent greeted me as he entered the main room.

“Hey, Vincent. How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“You hungry?” I asked, struggling to keep my tone casual.

I glanced over my shoulder. Vincent was frozen, his eyes glowing in the low light from the fireplace. He swallowed and nodded, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind, of course,” Vincent replied.

“No, I don’t mind,” I said, keeping a tight rein on my emotions. “I thought you might be.”

I uncrossed my legs and set the book aside as Vincent approached. I firmly reminded myself I was just feeding him. It was dinner, nothing more. Yet I struggled to convince my nervous system. My heart raced, and my palms began to sweat. I wiped them on my jeans as Vincent lowered himself to the floor.

Just like before, Vincent was gentle, calm, and efficient. It only took a few minutes, and then it was over. Vincent released my wrist, and I began to breathe again.

It was just like before.

Vincent looked up at me with those striking blue eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, studying my face intently. I kept my expression as neutral as possible. Vincent smiled, tucking his hair back behind his ears, the tips of his canine teeth barely visible beneath his upper lip. “Thank you again. I’m truly grateful.”

“Uh, no, it’s no big deal,” I said, trying to convince myself.

Vincent rose to his feet, unfolding his tall frame. He stood over me as I sat there, trying to act nonchalant, which made me squirm inside.

“How was your day, Julian? I should have asked earlier. Please forgive me,” Vincent said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Oh, it was fine. You know, the usual.” I looked down and realized I was idly running my fingers over the numb skin of my wrist. I quickly dropped my hands into my lap.

“Hmm, well, do you need anything? I’m happy to help in any way. You need only to ask.”