Page 45 of Bitten By Mr. Darcy
“You should not have to fear your husband in this way,” he said in a rough voice. “I am sorry for all of it, Lizzy.”
“Ty,” she said, going to him, putting her hand on his chest.
He let out a breath, and then backed away from her, firm, insistent. “No touching, Lizzy.”
“I do not think you would truly hurt me,” she said.
“And it is that sort of thinking that is going to get you hurt.”
SHE WAS RATHERtired that day.
She had a lovely breakfast, quite a spread, all alone in the breakfast parlor as the sun streamed in. Then she napped, sleeping until luncheon, when she woke to eat again—she was quite ravenous—and she napped in the afternoon as well.
When the sun finally set, her husband woke, and he joined her in the dining room for dinner, though he ate nothing, only sipping at his wine glass.
He did not touch her, but he gazed at her with hunger in his eyes. “I shall go out to feed first and then come back to you,” he said.
She didn’t like this, she found, and she squirmed in her chair, gazing forlornly into her potatoes, telling herself that she must not be stupid, for she did not wish him to hurt her, and she certainly did not wish to die.
“I can feel your objections through the bond,” he muttered, sipping at a glass of wine. “But I have told you before, there is no reason for jealousy, for it is not that way. I shall not tarry, but only get a bit to drink. You worried about it, but have you felt anything through the bond since we parted?”
She scooped up a forkful of potatoes. “Obviously, I felt it when you fed,” she said. “But you are right, it was not the same as what is between us.”
“So?”
“So, nothing,” she said.
“I must drink, Elizabeth, and I think it would be better if I did not drink from you at all for several days, maybe a week, even. It will also be better if I am not thirsty when I am with you.”
“Yes, I see the sense in it,” she said. She was aware she sounded sulky.
“You don’t wish me to do it.”
“I have not said that.”
“I can feel in the bond—”
“I am going to be jealous, that is all,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t seem to help it.”
“But I have explained to you—”
“I shall never be equal to you, not truly. You like my blood ever so much, and you say it is some kind of power I have over you, except it is not, since you are capable of denying yourselfthe pleasure of drinking me. In the end, you control yourself. I have nothing over you.”
“You wish to control me?” he said, affronted.
“As if you do not controlme,” she said, stuffing the potatoes into her mouth and chewing them.
He got up from the table. “The worst way that I control you is when I take too much of your blood and damage you, Lizzy. That is the very worst way.”
She ate more potatoes.
“I told you that marriages between vampires and humans are disasters,” he said. “I thought we might have at least a honeymoon before we were both miserable.”
She looked up at him, wounded. “You are miserable?”
“I feel your misery in the bond!” he snapped. “It affects me.”
“I am not miserable!” she said hotly. “I only wish to be married, really married.”
