Page 58 of House of Crimson Hearts
It is so surprising. My entire life no one has looked at me like this. No one has ever wanted me.
I know I shouldn’t. Every rational thought is screaming at me not to do this, that when the blood lust vanishes, she’ll hate me, she’ll run like the rest of them. Fear will leak into her bones, and she’ll be just like everyone else.
But the way she’s looking at me, the way it warms my blood and heats my bones and fills the cavity in my chest…
I can’t let it go.
I can’t walk away.
I step into the shower. One foot. Two.
She smiles and reaches for my wrist, her slender fingers pulling me closer until my fingers find the buckle of her trousers. She nudges me until I slide the zip down.
“You don’t want this. You will regret me,” I say.
“You don’t get to tell me what I want.” She wriggles her arse, pushing her trousers down over her hips and stepping out of them.
This is why I’ve never let a human feed from me.
The water drenches me, blood pools in the basin, running off our clothes. I pull my sopping top off and fling it out of the shower. Her fingers find my trousers, and she unhooks the button, slowly drawing the zip down.
My entire body is alive.
“Are you okay?” she says.
I nod because I can’t bring myself to confess, to tell her how alone I’ve been. That she’s daring to do something no other human would.
She stands under the showerhead, letting the water pour over her short hair, rubbing her hands over her face and pushing the shaggy locks back. I pull my trousers down and throw those outside the shower too.
Both of us stand there in our underwear. She’s wearing boxers and a cropped sports bra. I’m wearing black lace.
Her eyes draw down my body, tracing the curves, I can feel them on me. The way she stares at me heats my entire being. I step closer and she pulls me in, sliding her hand up my back, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine.
In a single swift movement, she’s unhooked the clasp of my bra.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “You’re stunning.” She bites her lip, the same heat spreading through my body drawing into her expression, her lids becoming heavy.
My cheeks flame as hot as the air between us. Water pours over my hair, the long locks sticking to my back.
She draws my bra straps down and tugs until my breasts are free.
“I…” she starts. “I need to touch you.”
“So touch me already.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. She holds me there, steam billowing around us.
“Your eyes…” she says.
And this is what I was dreading. The moment she realises I’m the city’s freak, the only vampire born. The only one with crimson eyes the colour of death.
But to my surprise, she reaches up and caresses my cheek. I lean against her palm, waiting for the disgust.
But instead, she breathes, “Wow.”
“Eyes the colour of blood and death…” I mumble.
“No,” she says, “they’re the colour of love and life.”
