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“You shouldn’t let Cristofer—”
“Forget him. Am I convenient? Am I your lover? Your friend? I’m sure boyfriend is too hopeful on my part, so I won’t even suggest it. Am I a place to stick your cock?”
“Don’t be crude.”
“Well?” He waited.
“A relationship isn’t possible.”
“So you said. Do I get a say?”
“You can have all the opinions you want, but it won’t change facts.”
“How come taking a lover is okay, but you can’t call it a relationship? What’s the difference?”
I couldn’t find an answer he would accept. “I have needs to take care of, Ensley. Perhaps we can discuss this another—”
“No. Why not me?”
I searched for the meaning behind his question, suspecting I understood but feigning ignorance. “I don’t follow.”
“What if I want you to… do it to me? Cristofer said it wouldn’t hurt.”
“I will not feed from you, Ensley.” But saliva pooled inside my mouth at the suggestion, and a quiet rumble traveled under my skin, awakening nerve endings and tingling in my teeth and groin.
“He said it was intimate.”
“Not for me.”
“I don’t believe you. If it’s pleasurable and something you require, why can’t it be something we share?”
I closed my eyes and clamped my teeth until they ached. If my powers were so weak, why could I hear his thrumming pulse? Why did I smell his intoxicating pheromones drifting in the air between us? His lust. His desire. His curiosity.
“Your heart is racing,” I murmured. “You’re afraid of me. You think you’re brave. You think you want this, but you don’t understand.”
“What is there to understand? You told me it wouldn’t change me or kill me, so long as you remain in control. I’m not afraid of you, and I do trust you.”
But it was more than that.
I stared at the smoky-blue shirt and imagined a life that wasn’t mine, where we could go on dates to restaurants and share chocolatey desserts, where we could swim in the ocean, lie in the sun, take holidays all over the world, and celebrate the passing of time. Birthdays, anniversaries, retirement.
The truth was, Cristofer was right. I’d spent centuries convincing myself that feeding brought no pleasure. That I was different than everyone else. I loathed the bliss and satisfaction.
Strangers made it easier to dissociate from the task. I feared the level of intimacy it would bring if I allowed myself to break this rule with Ensley. I feared the connection it would create. I feared the day I would have to walk away. The longing. The guilt.
I hadn’t said a word, lost in my head.
Ensley appeared in front of me, removed the shirt from the tangle of my fingers, and tossed it aside. He cradled my face between his warm hands and angled my head so we looked in each other’s eyes.
“Do you want someone else?”
“No.”
“Do you want me?” A hopeful note hung in the air with the question.
“Desperately.”
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