Page 119 of Dark Flame
“I’m okay.” Harlow waves to the other two before crossing her arms, covering her chest. “Just tired. I know we have to talk, and I’m sorry you guys stayed up all night waiting, but we should all sleep.”
Morgan rolls her lips together, obviously wanting to argue it, but agrees with a nod. “Yeah, I think rest will be smart before talking about…everything.” Her eyes flick towards me. “Feel free to use the basement again.”
“And you can take my room,” Carina interjects. “I’ll sleep at Jasper’s again.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be sleeping downstairs with Alec. Thanks, though.” She walks past them all, ignoring Carina’s subtle wink, Morgan’s gaping mouth, and Jasper’s frown. At the basement door, she turns towards me, no comment required before I join her.
She doesn’t speak until we’re safely downstairs. “I don’t want to be around any of them right now. They’ll want answers I don’t have. And you make it all better. You won’t demand the same things.” She watches me head for the corner of the basement, searching for any spare blankets or towels in a few of the boxes down here that she may be able to use for warmth since my body temperature isn’t helpful. “You’ve always made it better,” she murmurs in a considering tone. “I’ve been hearing your voice for months, and sometimes it kept me sane. The shadows gave me a reprieve from the second you appeared in my bedroom. They returned that night in the dungeon, but went away during your visits. From the beginning, we’ve been linked. The signs were there all along, but we never knew to look.”
I’m looking now.
I’m looking, and Iseeher.
Harlow isn’t the Sinclair I always assumed her to be. She’s just my Hellion. My obsession.
And if she’s right, then her shadows always knew not to fuck with what’s mine. Black magick may be a part of her, but it won’t beat an actual creature of Darkness, a descendant of one of the first demons.
“I’m glad you have access to black magick,” I state. “My body still remembers the way it was thrown against the wall. You’ll be able to defend yourself if anyone comes close—and for dealing with my ass when you get pissed off.” And she will get pissed at me at some point over the years.
“I didn’t want to do that.” Her steps make small clicking noises over the stone as she approaches. “The shadows, they speak to me, encourage me to do things, like defend myself.”
Well, that’s a new one.
“You were newly recharged. and I deserved it after everything.” I drop to the ground, the cool wall barely noticeable against my skin, and gesture for her to approach. “Can’t find a blanket or anything. You can go up and ask for one?”
“It’s fine.”
She lowers herself, one thigh on either side of my leg and situates herself on my lap, just like she was earlier in the night when my cock was buried inside her. She shivers and leans into my chest, curling her hands between our bodies for warmth.
The same kind of warmth that spreads through my body at the feeling of this—of my mate on my chest. Not because she’ll fall asleep like this, but because she’s chosen to be on me.
It means everything in a time of my life when I’m only just learning the definition ofeverything. It’s synonymous with Harlow.
I stoke a hand through her hair, never able to get enough of her. She needs a shower after our adventures outside, but I’m not recommending it until I’ve gotten my fill of her.
So never.
Her head lowers to my chest, ear to the place the organ long dead once thumped. If there was any chance of it beating again, I think it’d happen at this moment right here.
Being immortal, sometimes life can blink by in an instant. Yet there’s never been a time where I’ve been more content to justbe. Where contentmentisbeing still and holding this scrap of a powerful and intriguing woman in my arms.
Her breaths are warm along my side, comforting and paced. While I don’t require breathing, I choose to match my inhales and exhales to hers while my hand continues its petting. She should be able to sleep like this, but instead she speaks.
“Before we came inside, you said I could ask anything about you.”
“Only if I get to ask my own in return.”
She lets out a low huff, almost a whisper. “You know everything already.”
“Not everything.”
“Like what? Actually, don’t answer that. My turn first.” She lifts her head and straightens on my lap but leaves her hands on my chest, her fingers creating small, rhythmic circles. “You never told me how old you are.”
“I’m old. Old vampires mean strength, power. Next question.”
Her smirk is a slow climb. “Is someone self-conscious about his age? Fine.” She rolls her eyes playfully, and I’m struck by how much I enjoy the relaxed, spirited side of Harlow. “You claim you’re one of the kings of vampires, but what does that entail? ’Cause from what I’ve seen, you haven’t done all that much except show me off to a bunch of vampires.” Her gaze flicks to the corner of the room as her expression falters, another question unspoken across her face.
No one’s getting your blood,I reassure her.They’ll have to go through me first. The cure will remain in your pretty little veins, never to be used again.
