He shrugged. “Nope. Why?”
“You never think about finding real love? Something more than sex?”
The vampire’s slight smile faded, perhaps because of the seriousness he could see on my face. “I loved once, Cerys. When I was very young. She slept with nearly the entire vampire community behind my back and told me the child she carried was mine. For my type, blood knows blood. When the child was born, I knew what she’d done, but when I confronted her, she attempted to tie me to her with threats to spill my every hope, fear, and secret to the world. Then, when the father of her child killed her, she pointed the finger at me in her dying moment in a last final bid to ruin me. I was jailed. My fangs were ripped out. And that is when I swore to never love again. Not ever.”
For a moment, no one made a sound.
I forced back the lump rising in my throat. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Fenton.”
“It made me stronger.” The vampire walked away.
But it hadn’t. Not one bit.
“I’m sorry for losing control in there,” Devereaux said as we left the building. He sighed heavily. “What I feel for you makes things much harder than I ever anticipated. I don’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable, but sometimes I can’t seem to help it. My predator’s priorities are not always my own. I’m worried that I’ll push you away—”
“Stop,” I whispered to him.
He obeyed, facing me in the alley.
“I don’t want your apology tonight.” Reaching out, I took his hand, intertwining our fingers. My heart leaped at the contact.
Devereaux slowly moved his focus up from our hands. “Why?”
I rested a hand on his chest. “Because, Devereaux Vincori, you’re my true love.”
18
I lit a few candles, then double-checked everything. I’d purchased a heat charm to fend off the winter chill up on the rooftop of my apartment building. We’d be toasty warm.
Food, check.
Projector, check—Rodney had let me run a power cable from his penthouse for that.
I inhaled and exhaled. “You got this.”
Time to woo the long coat off a berserker.
A carriage rattled down the street, and I hurried to the edge, leaning over the balustrade. Devereaux exited the vehicle.
“Hey, hot stuff,” I yelled down. When he glanced up, I waved. “Come up to the roof.”
He nodded, and I hurried to the panel on the wall to buzz him in.
Okay, okay.
Killer nude heels, check.
Sexy-as-sin nude underwear, check.
I wore a white shirt dress that I’d belted tight at the waist. Hoop earrings and bracelets spiced the outfit up—as did my decision to curl my hair in loose waves and pin the top half of it in place, allowing the rest to tumble where it may.
The door opened, and I tried to calm my racing heartbeat.
Devereaux took me in. “Cerys. You look incredible.”
“Thanks.”
He glanced around. “What’s all this?”