Zoey studied her; Lena was about the same age she’d been when Michael died. Her forehead was lined with concern and Zoey softened. “Yeah, that’s him. Want to see?”
“Really? Yes, I would love to see.”
Zoey put everything back in the box, straightened the quilt, and climbed onto the bed. Then she hesitated. Did she want this? To share?
Lena leaned forward, interested. Her blue eyes were sad, and Zoey trusted them with her past. She patted the spot next to her and laid the wedding album on her lap. “We got married at this funky community center in L.A.,” she said, pointing at the first picture.
“How did you meet?”
“In college. Our freshman year.”
“You were so young.”
She rubbed her thumb over a too bright image of her youthful self. “A lot of people said that.”
“Kos told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. He was the best man I’ve ever met.” That was fair, right? Since Andre technically wasn’t a man.
“Do you miss him?”
“Honestly, I haven’t let myself think about him in years. I do miss him, now that I see these pictures. But…”
Gently, Lena touched the corner of the album and the right words came to Zoey. “Really, I miss the optimism I had—that nothing bad could possibly happen.”
It would have been perfectly natural for Lena’s mouth to pull into one of those forced half-smiles of reassurance. It didn’t, and Zoey liked her all the better for it.
“When Michael got sick, it became hard to trust people, to believe they were what they seemed.”
“It must have been quite a shock to find out Andre was a vampire.”
In the photo, Michael’s eyes gleamed, and he stood straight in his tuxedo.
“That was weird for sure, but Andre didn’t really change. Not like Michael did.”
“Zoey, are you really okay?” Lena asked. “We were all so worried.”
“I’ll survive,” she replied on a sigh. “The whole time, I was hoping Andre would save me, and was pissed off I needed him to.”
“Well, it’s kind of his fault they’re after you.”
“Do you think so? I think it’s just their fault for being so crazy and evil.”
Lena touched her arm. “Let me clean you up, okay?”
Zoey tensed. It had been a long time since anyone had mended her scrapes and bruises. Lena gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and Zoey went soft. God, it might actually feel good to let someone take care of her.
“Yeah, okay.”
While Lena filled the basin in the bathroom, Zoey stood and peered into the mirror. Dark circles under her eyes, a puffy lip, and a deep blue bruise that swelled even as she watched—it was worse than she expected. Lena came back with warm, lavender-scented water and Zoey flopped down on the bed.
“Andre is really mad at me,” she said.
“Seems like it,” Lena said into the side of Zoey’s head.
“Does he stay mad for a long time?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him mad before.”
Zoey tried to fit that detail into her picture of impulsive Andre.
“Did he really ask you to turn and stay with him?”
Her words were delivered with perfect neutrality and Zoey gave her credit for trying not to pry. “He did.”
“Do you love him?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Michael. “I think so.”
“Why did you run away, then?”
As Lena rubbed some kind of salve into her wounds, Zoey kept her eyes closed and pictured that innocent bride. “Because I’m not that girl anymore.”
Lena was quiet. She must have heard the question in Zoey’s answer. Zoey felt her dab ointment on her lip. Then she lay down next to her and took her hand.
What an odd sensation, not to be alone. Odd and nice. She let emotions swirl through her body, into the long dead places. Every time she felt afraid, she squeezed Lena’s hand, and the pressure was returned. Zoey didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity before she finally decided to talk to him.
She sat up, and Lena rolled onto her side. She said, “I’m going to leave Kaštel. Kos is going to find me a job in another household. But promise me we’ll still be friends after I leave. Whether you stay or go.”
“I don’t have a lot of friends. I’d be very happy to count you among them.”
“Good.”
“But, do you have to leave? Kos seems to really like you.”
“Oh, he’s like that with everyone. And this place is toxic to me. I’ve got to go.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Zoey had the surprising urge to kiss Lena’s cheek. She did, and then climbed off the bed.
She knocked on the golden oak door to his room but there was no answer. Trying the handle, she found it unlocked, and she paused. What would she say? She wanted to make peace with him, to apologize. She wanted him to hold her and coo to her and tell her everything would be okay. But the price of receiving his comfort was eternity.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine a future with him, but her vision was blank. Without knowing her mind, she went in.
The bedroom was empty and the shower was running. She stepped into the bathroom, enveloped by steam. His huge form was barely visible through the fogged shower stall. Heavy, moist air filled her lungs, suffocating her. Her pulse pounded as loudly as the water rained down. She wanted to run away. But she’d already tried that once and it was no use.
Just being in the room with him stirred in her a riot of longing, and tenderness, and need. She opened her lungs to the thick, hot air, surrendering to it, and the feelings. Neither killed her.
Instead, she felt heavy, her bare feet anchored to the tile floor.
She squinted through the clouded stall, and he came into view. Against the wall, his face was buried in the crook of his arm. Rivulets of water poured down his back.
The small room was suddenly way too hot.
It was a beautiful back, broad and muscled across his shoulders. His powerful ass was a perfectly cut masterpiece. She wanted to touch it, him, so she stepped closer. He was lost in thought, or he would have heard her.
“You found my box of photos,” she said.
He turned off the water and reached a long arm around the shower door to grab a black towel. When it was tied around his waist, he came out. Green eyes blazed with fury. Tendons in his neck were raised. His shoulders bunched as if he would pounce on her.
“Davo, Zoey. What the hell were you thinking?” He spit the words with quiet fury, and his fangs appeared behind tense lips.
She should have been scared of his hunger, but she only felt the sting of his anger. Shame over her foolishness burned hot on her face. “It was stupid,” she whispered. “I know that now. I came to apologize.” Then her words spilled out fast, and her voice grew louder. “You have every right to be angry with me. I’m sorry I put you through—”
“Why did you go?”
He deserved the truth. “I was scared.”
“Am I that scary?”
She stepped toward him. “Andre, you’re not—”
He backed up. “Then you told Omar to turn you. Omar. By the gods, Zoey. Why not fuck Ethan Bennett right in front of me?”
“I told him to do it so you wouldn’t be stuck with me.” She took another step, and he backed against the tile wall.
“Stuck?” His fists flexed into the wall. Two black square tiles cracked into spider webs.
The shatter echoed in the small room and caused her to flinch, but she kept her feet planted on the floor. It was starting to feel like they belonged there.
“Davo!” His jaw muscles ground and he wiped his hand across his wet head. “I asked you to bond with me. How could I—”
“I wanted you to have the choice.” She reached her hand toward him, and he somehow retreated further, into nonexistent space.
“Zoey, I already
chose.” He spoke slowly and clearly, as if she was an idiot. “I told you I loved you and you ran away.”
Just like Mila. The unspoken words ghosted through her mind.
God, she was an idiot. She’d rubbed salt into his old wound, and now she’d backed him into a corner, or a shower stall, at least, tempting and rejecting him at the same time. She stepped back.
The thick ropes of his shoulders dropped the barest half-inch.
“Do you want to know why I was scared?”
He nodded.
She gulped down another mouthful of heavy air. A shallow wave of grief came first, and then her arms ached for Andre. “Did you look in my box of photos?” she asked.
His eyes seemed so sad. For her or himself? “Yes, I looked.”
“I hadn’t looked in years.”
“I assumed as much. You can’t go back to your apartment. I didn’t want the box to be lost.”
Was it her imagination, or did he come a tiny bit closer?
“I’m not that girl anymore.”
“No, you’re not. I don’t think I would have loved that girl.”
The love in his eyes was ancient, sadder, and darker than anything Michael had felt for her. Her knees gave way. He reached for her arm, digging his fingers into flesh to steady her. He grabbed her just like the night they met, when she walked away. Maybe she didn’t have to walk away again.
“I shouldn’t have left like that. It was stupid.”
He dropped his arms, and his anger flared again—bright fireworks in his eyes. “I thought I made it very clear. If you did not want me, I would have left you alone.”
“I wasn’t running from you. It was the box, the memories…” She was shaking, and light-headed with fatigue, or something. But she wasn’t scared. “You saw me after that nightmare, falling apart over the idea of losing you. That’s why I left.”
There, she’d said it. She let her knees collapse, dropping into an exhausted, cross-legged heap on the floor. She looked up at him, repentant and pathetic. Turning away, he walked to the sink and splashed water on his face. He punched the wall next to the sink again, but not hard enough to crack the tile. He paced the length of the room twice like a pent up lion. He was all anger and power and beauty and pain, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He stopped on the far side of the room and faced her. “It has been a century and a half since Mila died, and yesterday I decided I could love again. It would be unreasonable to expect you to do so after only a few years.” He blinked at her, with that same ancient longing. “Truly, I understand. But you cannot stay here. Tomorrow, you have to go. Kos will see to it.”
She looked at the floor in front of her. A black rug, damp from Andre’s wet pacing. “I looked inside the box, at the pictures.”
He sighed. “I know, sweet.”
It must have been hard for him to be kind, frustrated and hungry as he was. A patient effort expended on her behalf, because he loved her, even if he didn’t want to.
“It didn’t kill me to look,” she said.
“No, love, even humans aren’t that fragile. Broken hearts heal.” She looked up to see his sad eyes crinkled with kindness. “Yours will, in time.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get dressed. Lena or Kos will see to anything you need.”
“If I lost you, it would kill me.”
In the door, he came to an abrupt stop and spun to face her, his stare pinning her to the floor.
“I’m very hard to kill.”
She stood, pointing at him. “Don’t bullshit me. They’re Hunting you, and me. If they don’t blow us up, you’ll still have to run and you’ll get sick with the wasting disease.”
“All of that is true.” In spite of the fateful admission, a quiet hope rang in his words.
She dropped her accusing finger and tugged on her ponytail. “So I’m just saying, if I lose you, it will kill me.”
He was rapt, but she wasn’t trying to torment him. The words just wouldn’t come out whole.
“Zoey. Do not toy—”
The bittersweet hope in his voice squeezed her heart too tight, forcing the words out. “Yes! If you will still have me. Yes.”
“You’re sure?” His eyes raked her up and down, as if suddenly unsure she was real.
“Yes.”
Like a knot of string, his body unwound before her eyes.
Still, his question was tentative. “You understand this is forever?”
“It’s all or nothing for me too, baby.”
He arched a dark brow. “Baby? It’s been millennia since anyone called me that.”
She raised both of hers in a challenge. “I think it suits you.”
“Do you?” God, his smile melted her, every time. He stepped forward and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Say it again, Zoey. I need to hear you say the words.”
“Bite me, turn me, keep me. All of it. Biting first, please.”
He pressed his finger over her mouth, shushing her. “How about you let me be in charge for once?”
Before she could reply he replaced his finger with his lips. He tugged at her shirt and she lifted her arms. Where Bennett had drawn blood, the shirt was stuck to her skin. It pulled off like a Band-Aid and she began to bleed. He licked his thumb and wiped it over her wound. For the briefest second, her skin stung, then knit together.
He reached around her and unhooked her bra. She stood up and slid her jeans and panties off. He lifted her onto the counter and dropped down between her legs.
“Andre, no.”
“No?” He nuzzled her inner thigh. “I can’t be in charge?”
“No.” The heat of a blush crept up her neck. “I mean, don’t do that…”
He stood up with a question on his face. Instead of answering she dropped to the ground in front of him.
“My turn.”
“Zoey, you don’t have to—”
“I want to taste you.”
He growled; she was still in charge after all.
Drops of water from the shower still clung to him. Running her tongue along his stomach, she licked them off. She tongued his solar plexus all the way down to his hard length. She licked him from base to tip and he moaned.
A drop of fluid beaded on him and a question formed on her lips. “Andre, if I become a vampire can I have a baby?”
His fingers stilled in her hair. “No, love. Vampires are infertile.”
“What about Bel?”
“It was something Mila worked out. I don’t know how she did it. But, Zoey, she wasn’t a vampire. That’s why she could have a baby.” He tugged her up to standing. “Do you want to be a mother?”
She flattened her hands on his chest and looked him in the eye. “Not really. When Michael got sick, I stopped wanting that.”
He put his palm against the side of her face and stroked her cheek with this thumb. “Because if you do, we could wait. There is someone I can ask.” She let him cradle her head, and he brushed his thumb on her lower lip. “It is possible I could give you a ba—”
“No. Let’s do it now.” Then she remembered crimson blood flowing from his wrist. “Maybe someday I’ll be a mother the way you’re Pedro’s father. But I want you to turn me right away.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss her mouth, but she turned her head and whispered into his ear.
“Now stop interrupting me.”
She kissed down his chest and stomach again while gripping him. Then she took him in her mouth as far as she could.
He groaned, and his knees buckled into her chest. She opened her eyes to see him gripping the counter. His reaction was thrilling, but when she looked up to see his fangs descending she could hardly wait. Soon, she would find out just what those babies could do.
“Zoey.” His “Z” sounded funny, with his tongue against his extended canines. “We need to move this to my bed.”
“I want to make you come.”
“No. It’s time for biting.”
Her body hu
mmed at his words. He was in charge again. For the moment.
Andre didn’t wait for Zoey to agree. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Tossing her on it, he dropped to all fours above her and kissed her. Her tongue explored his fangs without hesitation.
Still, he worried. Did she understand that this was his forever, not human forever? He dominated her lips and her tongue, licked every surface inside her mouth. She groaned into his throat and, for once, lay back submissive. It seemed too good to be true.
Her dark hair was a halo on the pillow. He smoothed it off her brow and touched her neck. There was still a smear of dried blood on her sternum. Its smell made his pulse race with his hunger for only her.
“When I bite you, love, there’s no going back. You will belong to me. You will become a part of my every cell. I will never let you go. Tell me you understand.”
He watched her mouth, waiting for her response. It didn’t come. Until her breasts tightened, and her back arched a little. Damn. She licked her lips.
Saliva flooded his mouth, and he swallowed. She looked sure. But he wanted her to say it. He raised his eyebrows, beckoning her.
She rolled her hips against him and tilted her head, exposing a long neck the color of honey and cream. She smelled even better, like musk and metal and Zoey. Her finger trailed from her jaw to her collarbone a little too slowly. His little vixen was teasing him.
“Davo. Zoey, answer me.”
She laughed and arched up to plant a kiss on his lips. “Andre, I understand.”
A word came to him. Whole. With her love, he wasn’t broken anymore.
With his face against the soft skin of her neck, the scent of her fear lingered. If he had his way, she would never be afraid again. The instinct to protect her opened his jaw, and he slid his fangs into her tender flesh.
Once her artery was pierced, he withdrew his fangs and hot blood filled his mouth. She released a long sigh, and already threads of the bond formed, allowing him to sense her pleasure in his mind. Her bright, rich flavor made him come on her belly.
“Andre?”
He pulled away from her neck only long enough to say, “Yes, you taste that good.”
Blood Vine Page 28
