Page 47 of Kentucky Nights
“So I’ve probably walked by vampires and didn’t even know?” Her voice becomes higher with every word of that question, her anxiety sneaking into her system again.
I kiss the top of her head, skimming my hand up and down her arm. The fumes of uncertainty fade. Happiness replaces the foul smell.
“Oh, definitely.” Lorcan sips his tea, the liquid dripping onto the hardwood floor after splashing through his empty insides. “Vampires, werewolves, angels, demons, hellhounds, phoenix, elves, dragons?—”
“—Okay, so everything I can imagine is what you’re saying.”
Her heart rate increases, the sugar in her blood sweetening the air. I bury my nose in her neck, inhaling the decadent aroma. My fangs breach with the need for her to become my prey.
“Pretty much.” Lorcan shrugs a shoulder as if he didn’t uproot everything in her life. “But most of us are just trying to make the best out of life and won’t bother you. Sure, we have some bad eggs, but so do humans.”
“Good point. I mean, no one ever bothered me until now.”
“And I want to know everything about the vampire who broke your trust and hurt you. I promise, I’ll find him.” I bend down, my lips brushing the top of her forehead.
A spice similar to cinnamon adds to the sweetness in her blood. The sudden wave of heat calls to my true nature, wanting nothing more than to answer her body’s call.
The mating heat. That is what this has to be building between us. It’s too soon. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair to her to have to be driven to want me like this. Fate is an external force, pushing two mates together. Paranormals are used to that; they crave it, but humans? They would find their choice to be taken.
And I’m all too familiar with that.
We don’t have much time before we both give in. I’m already on edge. Last night in the barn eased the agony of not being inside her. I know Dru had the same experience. I saw her watching me from the house, peeping through the telescope. It urged the fury of desire I felt for her.
I answered her call.
I hope I gave her a performance she will remember forever. I know I will be taking the memory of her finger fucking herself with me every damn step I take. I don’t know if there will be a day when I don’t think about her pushing her fingers in and out of that sweet cunt that I’m so desperate to taste.
“You said silver hurts you, right?” Dru tilts her head back, directing the question right at me.
I nod, gulping my coffee. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why do you keep that silver necklace, then? Is it because of the woman in the picture frame?”
I wince, not from the question, but from the hurt pouring from Dru. She’s doing an amazing job at hiding how much it must devastate her knowing I was with another.
There is a twinge of guilt for knowing I loved another woman. I have no doubt I would have died long ago if it weren’t for Daphne. She kept me going for this, my fated mate, wanting me to find that everlasting love I could only have for who Fate chose for me.
How could I ever regret a love so selfless?
“I’m going to take that as my cue to go. I’m just going to…” Lorcan stands from the couch, hooking his thumbs in the holster of his fake gun. “Pew. Pew, partner.” An awkward cackle comes from him. “Pew…okay, I’m going to go because this is out of my”—he waves his hands in the air in big windmill circles—“wheelhouse.” He snaps. “Yes, it is out of my wheelhouse, above my pay grade. All that jazz. Mmmkay? Great. Also, Kentucky, I signed you up for the local rodeo again. Please don’t be mad at me. Lovely meeting you, Dru. Okay, byeeeee.”
With a snap of his fingers, he is gone again. He didn’t bother to clean up his damn tea on the floor though. He never does.
“You deserve to know about her. I’ll tell you everything I know about Ms. Daphne Reynolds.”
I didn’t think it would be so hard, telling the woman I’m destined to and love, about a woman who loved me so much, she saved me for someone else.
A soft patter of rain kisses the windows, providing me with a soft beat to tell the story of a life I never thought I’d ever have to relive.
Kentucky walks in front of the wood-burning fireplace, tossing a few logs in that he keeps to the side. After igniting some kindling and tossing it on top of the chopped wood, he straightens. A baritone thrum sounds from him, adding to the rhythm of the rain against the windows.
I love this weather. It’s my favorite kind. Most find rain to be depressing, but not me. I love the serene quiet it brings. The peace one feels during weather like this is different. It’s like nothing else exists in the world. There’s no fear, no harm, no violence—just rain calming your mind.
Kentucky plucks the necklace from the frame, his flesh burning immediately. The smoke drifts and sways. He doesn’t flinch.
“Does it not hurt?” I don’t want him to be in pain to prove anything to me. “Put it down, Kentucky. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Don’t worry, Darlin’. It doesn’t hurt. Not anymore. I’m used to it.”
