Page 79 of Ophelia's Vampire

I’m not sure why exactly I follow Cas inside the house.

I probably shouldn’t, all things considered.

His brooding silence and the memory of that look on his face when he came barging into Philippe’s office—murderous, like he could have ended the other vampire right then and there without a second thought—should be more than enough to warn me away.

Instead, I climb out of the car and follow him across the driveway and up the front steps, through the door he leaves thrown open behind him.

I close it, and silence descends on the foyer.

“Cas,” I try, and get no response.

He stands rigid, shoulders rising and falling with tightly controlled breath. After a few long moments, he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it carelessly on the sideboard table near the door.

“Can we talk about what happened back there?”

He still doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his shirtsleeves up to the middle of his forearms. Slowly, methodically, the corded muscle there shifting with every movement.

I’m still humming with nerves over what happened in Philippe’s office and on the drive back. I’m still riding an edge of sharp, shaky fear waiting for Cas to say something,anything, but I’m not immune to what the sight of that simple action does to me.

A pulse of hot, insistent desire settles between my thighs, mingling with my fear and my nerves until I’m nearly ready to jump out of my skin.

“So what, Cas? You’re just going to ice me out without even letting me—”

He does turn, then, meeting my eye, and my words die in my throat.

Otherworldly, the burning crimson of his gaze. I’m caught in a storm of anger and hunger and something that almost looks like… hurt.

“Did you want Philippe’s bite, or were you only offering your blood to him as some kind of payment for information?” He loosens his tie as he speaks, his tone low and soft, with just an edge of acerbic bite that has my throat aching.

“Like I tried to explain, I wasn’t going to let him do it. And he had already changed his mind when you—”

“That isn’t what I asked.” Cas unbuttons the top button of his shirt, then the one below it. He runs a hand roughly through his hair, mussing it in a way that makes my fingertips itch to mirror the movement.

“And what if I was offering it as payment? What’s the problem with that?”

Cas scowls. “Your blood is a gift, Ophelia, and those who receive it should know how precious it is.”

Something about the idea of that makes me bristle. It makes me want to pull back and lash out and contradict him.

“It’s my body. My blood. It should be up to me who gets a taste of it.”

Cas’s frown deepens, even as he nods his agreement. He steps closer and I step back. The deep, dark energy pulsing off him in waves triggers some hind-brain instinct. Something that makes me feel chased, pursued. Like prey.

But unlike with Philippe, the instinct to run doesn’t accompany that feeling.

Instead, the urge to fight harder, to see how far I can push him before we both break, sizzles through me in a low, slow burn.

“That is true,” Cas allows, matching me step for step across the foyer. “But you also deserve to be cherished. Any who receive the gift of you should fall to their knees in gratitude for the honor.”

Another step, and the backs of my legs hit one of the stiff velvet chairs at the side of the room.

“And you?” I can’t help but ask. “Are you going to fall to your knees?”

The crimson in Cas’s eyes darkens to garnet, a deep blood-red that sends a shiver down my spine and makes my core go molten. He rests a hand on my shoulder, pressing down with an unerring intent that has me sinking into the chair behind me.

And then he kneels.

Cas grips my knees, spreading them wide and making room for himself between them. It shifts my skirt higher, rucks it up to the crease where my hips meet my thighs, and he ghosts his fingers over my bare skin before he meets my gaze.

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