Page 30 of Desired for Her Blood
“In case there’s sunlight.”
“Don’t worry, little dove.” Ryker pulls me in close to his side. “The robot will be able to spot any sunny sections. He’ll avoid them, or stop and wait until night.”
I nod, loving the feel of Ryker’s body against mine. Axe gets up and starts pacing across the cave. Worried, I start to stand, but Ryker slides his hand up to my shoulder to stop me.
“Let him be for a bit.”
I look into Ryker’s eyes and see that he’s concerned about Axe too. The two men were alone out here while Zuben and I were… Axe and Ryker might have talked.
Turning back, I spot Axe leaning forward against the far wall of the cave, hands on the rock, head hanging forward, and while the posture breaks my heart, the wide expanse of his back, the huge mounds of his ass, his well-shaped strong legs, stir other things inside me. I can’t help it.
“So did you and Zuben screw?” Ryker asks.
My insides clench. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course.” He kisses the top of my head and I snuggle against him. “Stock market? The weather?” He shrugs. “Guess there’s not much weather to talk about down here.”
“Octavia.”
He pulls back. “What?” His expression’s full of horror.
“You were oncewithher? Like…romantically?”
“If you mean did I once fuck her?” He shrugs. “Yeah. I did. But it was a long time ago, baby. A long time.”
“When?”
He shrugs. “Late twenties, early thirties.” He shakes his head. “Okay, I guess we were on and off until maybe sometime in the forties?”
“The nineteen forties?” I can’t keep the wonder out of my voice. I know he’s lived a long time, he talks about being a pirate, but it’s still so strange to me. He looks so young.
“How old were you when you became—“
“When I was turned?” he asks.
I nod.
“Twenty.”
I gasp. “I’m twenty-five.”
“Cradle robber.” He grins.
I chuckle, but then have a sobering thought. “So, how long ago was that? What year were you…turned? Is that the right word?”
“Some say turned, some say transitioned.” His eyes narrow a bit. “I say turned.”
I nod. Transitioned certainly implies more of a voluntary, versus involuntary situation, and thinking about that makes me think of Axe, still leaning against the wall of the cave. His story of becoming a vampire is horrible, but I want to know Ryker’s story too.
“Are you okay to talk about it?” I ask.
“About what, little dove?”
“Your…when you were turned into a vampire.”
“Ah, that.” He leans back on the furs, pulling me down with him and I snuggle against him, my head on his chest.
“That would have been some time around 1670.”
