Page 85 of Taste of Death

“I don’t thinkyouare,” he retorted. “But it doesn’t matter. If I have to spend every day of the next five hundred years convincing you that you deserve all I have to give and more, I’ll do it.”

I tried approaching it from another angle. “It’s like with your family. Not to compare you to them, but you were never good enough in their eyes. They were wrong about you, obviously, but,” I pointed to myself, “what if I’m actually not good enough, Novak? What if I can’t be everything you need?”

His eyes narrowed and he went eerily still for a moment. I almost thought he wouldn’t say anything, maybe storm off, when he said icily, “There’s one major difference you’re forgetting.”

“What?”

“They had expectations of me that were always shifting. I could do something they would’ve been proud of one day, but the next day, the goalposts had shifted and that one thing was no longer impressive. It was a losing game no matter what I did. Even if I had found a cure for Rathka’s Curse and reversed the effects on everyone, they would have found reasons to be disappointed. There was no pleasing them, you understand?”

“Yes, I know.” I brought a hand to my face. “I’m sorry I brought them up. That was a bad example.”

Novak removed my hand from my cheek and replaced it with his own. “I have zero expectations of you, akra. Absolutely none. I want you exactly as you are. Your galaxy eyes, your kitten fangs, and this beautiful body you won’t let me see. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, and I never want you thinking you have to impress me. I just want you here.”

My tears began escaping, and he swept away every single one away with his thumbs. His lips came to my hairline and stayed there when my next words tumbled out.

“My body isn’t beautiful. You saw my stomach.”

“I did?”

“Yes, in the basement.” I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “You saw my scars, so how can you say I’m beautiful?”

“Because you are.” He looked confused. “I didn’t see any scars.”

I snorted derisively. “You might need your eyes checked. They’re all right here.” I placed my hand over my abdomen. “They’re from the attack that… that killed me.”

Novak looked thoughtfully down where my hand was. “My only concern at the time was if my brother had hurt you. When I saw you were whole and well, it was the biggest fucking relief of my life. I didn’t notice them because I truly don’t care if you have scars, Amy.” His fingers laced through mine. “It doesn’t change how beautiful you are to me.”

“I hate them,” I admitted. “I never look in a mirror when I change my clothes or get out of a shower. I hate that they're a permanent reminder of… of what happened.”

Novak sighed, his breath trailing across my lips. “I am sorry the events leading to your transformation were so traumatic. I can’t imagine the pain you were in, or how scared you were.” His grip on my hand tightened. “But I’m not sorry that you’re here, very much alive and lighting up my life.” He cocked his head to the side, looking thoughtful again. “Would it help if you thought of your scars like your eyes and your fangs? As markers of your second life, symbols of what brought you to me?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted on a long breath. “I’ve never tried to reframe how I’ve thought of them like that.”

“Would you be willing to try?” Novak traced the edge of my jaw. He was always touching me in small, caring ways. With such reverence and affection, like he truly could not get enough of me.

“How?” I asked, leaning into his touch.

“Reverse your thinking, akra.” His thumb circled over the pulse in my neck. “Just see how it feels. What if youdodeserve the world laid at your feet? What if youareperfect exactly as you are? What if your scars are part of what makes you beautiful?”

Our mouths met in a warm press that quickly ignited to a passionate frenzy. His fangs didn’t draw blood, but their firmness against my lips mirrored the hard pressure of his erection between my legs. My thighs squeezed around his waist, pulling him closer for more. More friction, more heat, more of everything that washim.

Novak gripped the edge of my panties in one fist. I felt the tug of fabric drawn tight against my skin and then heard a ripping sound.

“Did you just… ” The second half of my question died as the front of his slacks pressed against my bare sensitive skin. The cool, hard metal of his belt buckle was a shock to my heated core.

“Anything to keep these legs wrapped around me.” He gave me a wry smirk. “I’ll replace your panties.”

“Careful, or we’ll have a shortage just like with your shirts,” I warned.

“Oh no, how terrible,” he murmured before kissing me again.

The panties were gone from my mind as I hurriedly pulled apart Novak’s belt, and then the button and zipper of his slacks. Rather than fuss with his shirt buttons, he peeled the whole thing off over his head.

His slacks and underwear piled on the floor and he stepped out of them. My gorgeous vampire, a lean, lithe creature that for some reason, wanted a centuries-long life with me.

I ran my hands up his forearms first, feeling the corded muscles and prominent veins that I drooled over before I knew anything about him. My touch ran over the swell of his biceps next, and then his round, strong shoulders. He shivered when I stroked his neck, eyes heating to a fiery red when I explored my way down his chest, across the ridges in his firm abdomen, to the thick cock that jumped at my touch as if eagerly waiting for me.

“You’re beautiful,” I said as I gave him a long, leisurely stroke. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

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