Page 51 of My Mr. Vampire

Morgan raised her coffee mug in greeting. “Morning Zand. Did you have to kick any drunks out of your club?”

Something flickered across his face. “Not tonight.”

His eyes found mine, and I saw a hunger there. The more time I spent with him, the more I could read him. This hunger was for blood. It was three days since he last fed from me. He prefers it. We tried to space it out, to keep the balance between his needs and my personal health.

“You look tired.” I said, raising from the table to meet him halfway across the room.

His hand found the small of my back, a gesture of possession that I loved coming from him. “I’ll be fine after some rest.”

Morgan jumped to her feet and clears her throat theatrically. “Time to go to work. Thanks for letting me crash in your guest room, by the way. I’m not sure if I said that.”

“No problem. Stay as long as you need,” Zand told her. He’s always been generous.

As Morgan gathered her cell phone and coffee, I considered mentioning the news report. The words formed and dissolved on my tongue. I couldn’t find any good reason to mention it. I didn’t want to worry him. No matter how hard he tried to hideit, I knew he worried about me. Morgan headed toward the guest room.

“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?” Zand asked, almost as if sensing my hesitation.

“Just breakfast.” I pointed to my cup of coffee.

Zand’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could always tell when something was being left unsaid. He didn’t press. Which was a good thing. I didn’t want to sound like a paranoid lunatic. His hand tightened around my waist.

“I need to get some of you.” His words carried multiple meanings. He wanted me sexually, but he also wanted to drink my blood. I could never deny him. If there was a way to drink a person’s blood in the most sensual and alluring way, he was doing that to me. He was gentle every time, and he didn’t scare me.

Zand slowly pulled me to the staircase that led upstairs to the bedroom we shared. Our bedroom was a sanctuary of shadows. The blackout curtains were drawn tight against the daylight outside. Zand moved with purpose. His fingers lingered on the small of my back as he guided me upstairs and through the doorway.

In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, I saw his face and all its sharp angles. Time had taught me to read the tension in his jaw. Maybe it was something with Marisol. Maybe Donté, his new protégé, was giving him problems. It was all speculation. I had to push it all away so I could enjoy the moment.

Zand locked the door behind us. This was a habit born of necessity rather than privacy. Vampires were vulnerable when they slept, and a locked door gave the light sleepers time to fight if need be.

Zand’s honey-colored eyes darkened. I stepped closer, close enough to feel the unnatural coolness that radiated from his skin. “You know you can tell me anything.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. His hand rose to cup my cheek. His thumb traced my lower lip. “I know. But right now, I need something else from you.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. Two months ago, I might have been terrified by the implication. Now, my body responded with certainty.

“You haven’t fed from me in three days.” I purred. My hands found the buttons of his shirt.

“Three days, fourteen hours.” He corrected while watching my fingers work. “But who’s counting?” He smirked.

We had established boundaries that kept me safe. The feeding never took too much from me. He never left me weak. Still, there was always that edge of danger that made the feedings feel thrilling.

“Did you have your processed blood?”

“No. I wanted to wait for yours. Your blood tastes better when I abstain from the blood bags.”

“You should’ve said something.”

I pushed his shirt from his shoulders to reveal the marble perfection of his chest. No matter how many times I saw him like this, it still took my breath away.

“I wanted you to recover from the last time.” His cool hands found my waist and slipped beneath my nightgown to meet my bare skin.

Zand’s touch sent sparks across my skin. His fingers trailed up my ribcage, mapping the territory he had claimed countless times before.

“I’m fully recovered now.” I whispered, arching slightly into his touch.

Zand lifted me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing at all. He carried me to the bed. His supernatural strength no longer startled me. He laid me down with gentleness. His body coveredmine with his weight carefully distributed, so I didn’t feel crushed.

“Your heart is racing.” He observed. Zand pressed his lips to my throat, right where my pulse quickened. “Is it fear or anticipation?”

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