Page 53 of Sacrifice of the Vampir
"That's what you think this is?" He shifted again, and suddenly his hands were on either side of my head, caging me in, and I could feel the tension vibrating through him. "You think I'm stuck with you?"
"Aren't you?" Hot tears burned behind my eyelids as I closed my eyes, unable to face the truth in his expression.
"Talin." My name came out rough. Almost violent. "I've lived for over a century. I've met thousands of people. Fed from hundreds. And not once—not once—have I felt anything even close to what I feel when I look at you."
I opened my eyes, but couldn't look at him. "Because of the bond?—"
"Because I've wanted to fuck you since the first time I ever saw you. Because you walked into that bar two weeks ago looking like you'd fight the devil himself to save your cousin." His thumb traced my jaw, the touch at odds with the intensity in his voice. "Because you stood up to that devil even though you were terrified. Because you came to me bleeding and desperate and still refused to beg for help."
My breath caught.
"Because you trusted me with your body last night even though you were scared out of your mind." His gaze dropped to my chest, to the scar I could feel burning under his attention. "Because you showed me this and thought I'd run. As if this—" He laid his hand on the flat plane of my chest over the scar, gentle and reverent, my heart pounding as though it wanted his touch as much as every other part of my body, "—could ever make me want you less."
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall and ruin this moment.
"I don't know how to do this," I whispered. "I don't know how to trust that this is real."
"Neither do I." The admission surprised me. He saw it in my face and his mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I've spent a century barely keeping myself sane. And then you walked into my life and blew that all to hell in under two weeks, and I feel like my feet are no longer rooted to the ground. And I'm not gonna lie, little witch, it fucks with me."
"I'm sorry?—"
"Don't." His thumb pressed against my lips again. "Don't apologize for being exactly what I need. Even if I don't know it, yet."
"But what if I'm not? What if the bond is wrong? What if?—"
"What if you stop thinking for five seconds and just feel?" He pulled my hand from where it was clenched in the sheets and pressed it against his chest. Against his heart. It beat steady and strong beneath my palm. "Tell me what you feel."
I closed my eyes. Let myself sink into the connection thrumming between us. The silver thread pulsed with warmth, with certainty, with something that felt terrifyingly like forever.
"I feel scared," I admitted.
"Good. So do I."
My eyes snapped open. "You're scared?"
"Terrified." His hand covered mine, holding it against his heart. "Because I've never needed anything the way I need you. And need is dangerous. Need makes you vulnerable. Makes you weak."
"You're not weak."
"Neither are you." His gaze held mine, unflinching. "So stop acting like you are. After everything you've survived? Little witch, you're one of the strongest humans I've ever met."
His words settled over me like a blanket, warm and heavy and impossible to shake off. But my bladder had other ideas, and after a moment, I carefully extracted myself from beneath him.
"I need to, um—" I gestured toward the bathroom, heat creeping up my neck.
"Go." He glanced at the brightening sun peeking through the crack in the curtain, the golden light catching on the edge of his profile. "I'm not going anywhere." He rolled onto his back, one arm casually tucked behind his head, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness. The movement drew my eyes to the hypnotic play of muscle beneath his olive-toned skin. The defined ridges of his abdomen, the strong curve of his shoulders, the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel to his sex, half hard against his hip. My mouth went dry as I traced every inch of him with my gaze, memorizing the perfection that somehow, impossibly, wanted me. I had to physically force myself to look away, tearing my eyes from the sight before I forgot why I'd gotten up in the first place and crawled right back into bed with him. Into those arms that seemed made to hold me.
I grabbed my discarded tank top and pajama shorts from the floor, clutching them against my misshapen chest as I crossed the room and tugged the curtains closer together, then headed to the bathroom. Once inside, I leaned against the closed door and let out a shaky breath.
That just happened. All of that just happened.
I used the toilet, expecting more blood than there was, washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. In the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. My hair was a mess, my lips were swollen from Elias's kisses, and there were faint bruises on my neck from his mouth and hands.
He hadn't bitten me, though. And I wondered why.
I touched one of the marks, and the silver thread between us flared with possessive satisfaction.
His.
