Page 138 of The Darkest Chase

Usually, when it happens, I gladly take the blame—like I brought out something in her that she couldn’t believe was actually part of her, the ability to enjoy being hurt that way, so it must be something I did to corrupt her.

With Talia, who’s barely just lost her virginity, I should have taken more time.

Should’ve built up to this and eased her into it.

It would’ve served me right if she’d called me an animal and pushed me away from her.

Instead of flopping bonelessly against me, rubbing her cheek to my chest like a contented cat, teasing me about high-necked shirts.

In the firelight, she’s all amber and cream. The flickering flames wash over her naked body and make her skin glow in soft contours before plunging down into gold-lit shadows that accent her like a piece of fine art.

The marks I’ve left behind, they’re dark reddish-purple bruises. Mostly in the shape of my teeth where I branded her.

She shivers in my arms.

I maneuver us so we’re lying on her sleeping bag, then stretch one arm out to grab my own and drag it over us like a makeshift blanket. I feel like I should fish out the little first aid kit and swab over her bites with a little antibiotic salve just to be safe.

Soon.

Let me savor this first.

Talia makes a happy sound, nosing at my shoulder.

“Better?” I ask.

“Mm, yeah. Just cold,” she answers, folding her arms on my chest and propping her chin on them, watching me with her eyes twinkling.

“Because you’re naked and sweaty,” I point out.

“And how did I get that way?” She grins, tapping her fingers on my chest.

“By showing me your throat, calling me a vampire, and asking me to ruin you,” I growl. I give her ass a crisp smack that makes her squeak. The first time I saw her collapse against the town square, I never would’ve imagined she could be such a brat. “You’re okay?”

Talia blinks at me.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Damn. I guess I’ll have to be blunt.

“Woman, I just pinned you down, bit you to hell and back, fucked you hard enough to make you scream. I wouldn’t let you up until you were begging for more.” I arch a brow. “Most people talk about safe words before doing that shit.”

“Oh, y-yeah. Good point.” She gives me that cute little stammer when she’s startled and nervous. It gets to me, almost as much as the way she tongues her upper lip in thought. “But it was fun. I liked it. It was exciting. I never get to do exciting stuff that scares me. In the good ways, I mean. I never have, I mean.”

I frown. “You’re saying I scare you?”

“Well, yeah! But, like, it’s not the kind of scared you’re thinking.” She’s so serious, giving this her utmost attention, those pretty blue eyes focused. “I’m not scared of you hurting me, not for real. I’m scared of my body falling short. I’m scared of taking a risk with you and no matter how much I want it, my lungs give out and tell me I’m not allowed to just jump and see where we might land. I’m scared, yes. But I’m doing it anyway because I’ve spent my whole life avoiding living.” She smiles, soft and heartfelt. “I won’t be scared of being with you.”

The way she says it sounds like she means more than just sex.

That she’s not just risking her body with me and satisfying my need to hurt beautiful things.

She’s risking her heart and challenging my need to shut down. Anything that demands I be real, be present, be part of someone else’s life instead of an actor moving through their scenery, never intending to stay.

I don’t know what to do with that, what the hell to say.

I just know I’m going to break this girl’s heart.

Because I don’t know how to be with someone who looks at me the way she does.

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