Page 72 of Mated Exile

Silence falls between us for only a moment before he drags the rest of it out. "They'd gotten bored with the regular fights. We always ended them too soon, and we'd gotten too good at fighting. That didn't entertain the vamps as much as it used to. So they proposed to throw us together. They liked the drama of that.

"At first, they were happy enough with the results. We gave them a show... Ella and I, we could speak to each other in wolf form. Always could from the time we started shifting. So we'd telegraph blows, make each other bleed just enough, but not too much.

"Pretty soon they caught on to what we were doing. They didn't like that. This was around the time that they were experimenting with different things, like that white paralytic powder they used to make us unconscious. They found ways to turn their venom into weapons, distill down its properties and separate them out. So they started drugging us with it.

"When they put us into the arena the last time, I didn't... I didn't even recognize her." Bastian is staring at the ground now, his voice full of despair, his fingernails digging into his palms. "It was like I was out of my mind. I heard Ella calling my name and screaming in pain, but I thought the wolf I was attacking was the onekillingher. So I finished it off. It wasn't until her blood was all over me that I realized what I'd done."

Shivering, I squeeze his shoulder tight. My cheeks are wet with trails of tears. Even though I can't seem to stop crying, his eyes are dry, and his shoulders rise and fall regularly. It's like he's felt so much for so many years that he's unable to feel anymore. "Oh, Bastian."

"You understand now, don't you?" Looking up into my eyes, his own narrow with despair. "There's no way I could ever stay here with you. I don't deserve to, after what I did. I should never have a home, or a family, or anything else I can destroy."

My heart genuinely aches. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I shake my head. There aren't words inside me to lay this sorrow to rest—so I throw my arms around him, hugging his broad chest, drawing him to me.

Placing my mouth near his ear, I tell him in a low voice, "That wasn't your fault."

"But I did it."

"It wasn'tyou." Squeezing tight, I try to make him feel my words enough to truly believe them. "What happened in that arena wasnotyour fault. It was those fucked-up evil bloodsucking assholes. Your sister, if she could, would tell you to forgive yourself. Because you're not the one who did that."

Sliding back, I take his face in my hands and stare deeply into his eyes. "Bastian, I know you won't believe me. And I know it will take time. But believe me when I say that you should forgive yourself, and choose to have a happy life, full of people who care for you. It's what Ella would have wanted—I'm absolutely sure of it."

He shudders beneath my hands, taking in a deep breath that rattles his chest. His face is so close to mine, lips parted.

I can't resist completely. Despite myself, I lean forward and slide my lips across his, slow and tentative. There's a question in the brush of my touch, one he answers by kissing me in return.

First his lips move, hesitant and slow.

Then his broad hands come up to hold my waist, engulfing it entirely.

Finally he tilts his head, parts his lips—and hungrily melts his mouth against mine. His tongue flicks out to brush against mine. I moan into his mouth, and his chest rumbles as he groans, drawing me into his lap and kissing me deeply. He tugs my lower lip between his lips and sucks on it, slides his lips across mine and explores my mouth with his.

We kiss for several long, sensuous minutes. First with our heads tilted one way, then the other. Bastian licks his tongue across my mouth and sucks each of my lips until I shiver with desire. His movements are curious, trial and error, like he's never done this before, or at least never like this.

By the time his mouth parts from mine, I'm panting softly, my lips and cheeks smarting from his stubble on my skin. He presses a final kiss to my lips, his mouth closed, then stares at me with those bright amber eyes.

In a low voice he asks, "Do you think you could stay with me tonight? Just so I don't have nightmares." Licking his lips, he adds, "I think I was in the middle of one when I woke up before."

"Of course." I barely have to think about it before asking, though I do add, "It would probably be best if you wore a pair of boxers, though."

"Oh! Right."

My cheeks heat as he throws the sheet off his naked body, which is aroused again, then pads over to the dresser and searches through the drawer. Dragging out a red pair of boxers Roarke and I picked up for him days ago, he unfolds them, flips them around to find the right way to put them on, and drags them up to his hips.

They're comically, ridiculously pitched between his thighs. I have to look down and away, stifling a laugh before I glance back up into his face as he draws his hair back over his shoulder and loosely ties it.

"Bastian." Biting my lower lip, I search for the words. "Do you think you want to... take care of that?"

"Of what?" I motion towards his obvious tent. "Oh. I could. Usually I just sleep them off."

"That sounds... unpleasant."

Shrugging, he tells me, "It's better than jerking off in front of a bunch of perverted vampires."

"You could do it in private," I tell him softly, careful not to propose that I help. "If you want to, in the bathroom."

He blinks at me, then nods. "Okay. If you'd prefer it."

I have to close my eyes when he disappears into the bathroom and closes the door. Since I'm not ready for bed anyway, I take the moment to slip downstairs, grab my sleep kit and pajamas, then slip back up again.

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