Page 64 of Just for a Taste

“Then why?”

He pinched his nose again, cursed sharply under his breath, then said, “I care for you too much, Cora. And I can’t handle that feeling.”

Everything in me softened all at once. “Zeno,” I whispered.

“Solitude is a delicious poison. I’d rather drink it to death than have you for just a taste.”

I finally neared Zeno, who did not turn to look at me. He flinched when I placed my hand on his shoulder. Every muscle tightened. Like I was a stranger.

“I told you, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. I meant that when I said it. Either as friends, or something more.”

With those words, he loosened up, even leaned into my hand slightly, so slightly that it seemed as if on instinct. Slowly, I withdrew it and returned it to my side.

Zeno didn’t move from his former position or sit up to look at me as I continued, “But I can’t sit here and be dangled back and forth. I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum or force you into anything you don’t want. If it’s what you want, I can leave. No hard feelings.”

Zeno slammed his hands on the desk and leaped up.

“Of course I don’t want you to leave!” he cried. “Iwantyou to stay here. I want to see you finish your thesis and enjoy sweets and smile. I want you to hear my music. I want to watch you and your garden grow to their fullest beauty. I haven’t felt happy in years. You’re everything. You’re all there is.”

“Then why?” I asked. “Why can’t it be that easy?”

Zeno met my gaze, eyes ablaze. He took a step closer to me, then another, expecting me to back up. But I stood square. Zeno looked me up and down, eyes softening, then slowly took one of my hands in his. His hands, which had been clenched so tightly moments before, were warm for the first time. “I don’t have it in me to love in parts. If I have you, I need every inch of your soul and every inch of your body. I can’t settle for less.”

At the genuine frustration and despair in his tone, my resolve was finalized. “Zeno,” I whispered, putting my other hand on his.

He searched my face, then softly replied, “Yes?”

Though I paused, though my words were shaky, I knew what I wanted. “Drink from me.”

With a staggered breath, Zeno bit his lip so hard I feared he’d draw blood. For a second, I thought he would decline, but then he looked deep into my eyes and clutched my hand. “Are you sure? Do you know what you’re asking?”

I gave him a slow nod. “Yes. I know who you are. I know what I’m signing up for.”

“God, I hope you never do.”

Chapter 32: O soave fanciulla

Zeno trained his gaze on me unapologetically, his eyes visibly trailing along the curves of my body. His fingers grazed against my cheek, snaked slowly along the veins in my neck, and lingered for just a whisper over the hollow of my throat. Only then was his path blocked by the oppressing lip of my high shirt collar.

His hand froze, and I became acutely conscious of the rise and fall of my chest as he puzzled out the predicament we were in. He fumbled with it for a moment, trying in vain to move the fabric. Then, after a few excruciating seconds, he finally growled, “Fuck it.”

In a swift motion, Zeno pulled me against him with one arm, hooked his fingers into my shirt, and yanked. A chill ran down my spine in perfect unison with the sound and sensation of tearing fabric. I gasped as cold air met freshly bare skin, my shirt now torn in a jagged V so that my shoulders and the tops of my breasts were exposed.

Zeno’s grip around me tightened so that we were flush against one another, and he pinned my arm to my side before I could cover myself with it. The vampire sank his fangs into my neck, and searing heat washed over me.

Zeno grasped feverishly at me, using every ridge of every rib to claw me closer. His nails dug so tightly into my back that I feared the rest of my shirt would be torn to shreds within seconds.

I squirmed at the electricity in his fingertips, and Zeno frenzied at the movement, drinking me in further. My skin fluttered every time he moaned, and it took only a few greedy gulps of my blood before the entirety of my body was a numb, shaking mess. Once every crevice of our bodies was pressed as tightly as possible against each other, we were trembling statues.

There was a moment that seemed both endless and fleeting, where the only thing I could feel was the pulsing of my veins and Zeno’s warm breath on my neck.

He pulled away from me slowly with a shaky breath. Our faces were now inches apart, our noses touching. I could see my blood on his parted lips, and within his eyes burned a fire I had never seen before. I had been clutching his shirt tightly, had been pressing my body into his and digging my nails into his arms. Though I loosened my grip and untangled myself from him, the exhilaration coursing within me had not abetted.

Slowly, deliberately, he swiped his tongue across his lips, savoring the last drop of me. I took one step back, then another, until I was touching the desk behind us. He was panting now, excitement coursing within him, waiting to pounce the moment I gave him the go-ahead.

I nodded.

With a fierceness I didn’t know he possessed, Zeno threw his arm across the desk, sending books and papers flying. An inkwell tipped over, black ink pouring down the far corner of the desk.

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