“Yes.” I took my riveted gaze from the bed and switched it to him. He was at a desk on the computer. He minimized the screen and sat back with his arms folded. Waiting.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” I started. “I’ve developed a huge crush on you, but I thought it was silly because, because you couldn’t possibly be interested in me. So, when you kissed me, then you said…well, you know what you said, I was so blown away I thought…it couldn’t be real, because I could never be so lucky.”
In forming my mental apology, I’d thought it would go over better if I outed myself over my crush, no matter how embarrassing that was. And it was true. I didn’t know why Gregor would want me when there were tons of pretty, gorgeous women who’d be happy to have him. If not for his temper, I’d think he was perfect.
“Come closer.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t sound mad anymore and came toward him, stopping about a foot away.
“Closer.”
I advanced until my knees brushed his legs.
“Closer.”
It was a purred directive while his eyes started to change. The gray in them gave way to swirls of emerald.
I laid my hands on his shoulders, beginning to tremble. His legs opened, and I stood between them.
“Kiss me.”
Nervous about that, but afraid to refuse, I laid my lips on his, wondering if I was even doing it right.
His mouth opened, and his hands came to life. They pressed me to him even as his tongue delved past my closed lips. All the sudden, I was lying on him, the chair tilting backward and Gregor kissing me like my mouth possessed hidden treasures.
I liked kissing Gregor, even though it was overpowering. What had me grunting in protest was him lifting me with one powerful hand and then the mattress flattening against my back.
“Gregor, wait.”
It was gasped when his mouth moved to my throat. Cool air fell on my legs, with my dress being shifted up.
Whoa. I’d meant to apologize and be on good speaking terms—maybe even do some kissing—but this wasn’t what I intended.
“What did you say?”
He almost snapped the question, pausing as he unzipped my dress. I was trembling at the sight of fangs protruding from his mouth. I’d only seen his fangs once before, on my grandparents’ porch the night we met and he’d proved that he was a vampire. His fangs scared me, but they also gave me an idea.
“I want you to bite me,” I improvised, my heart pounding in fear of that, too, but I needed an alternative and fast. One that wouldn’t throw him into a livid tirade. “Drink from me.”
Gregor stared at me. Then he smiled. “Oui. Tonight, the blood from your body, and tomorrow, the blood of your innocence.”
Oh God. What had I just done?
Gregor sat up and pulled me along with him. His hand swept aside my hair as he tugged the collar of my dress down.
Everything inside me braced. How bad would it would be?
“You’re afraid,” he murmured. His tongue swirling around my throat made me jump back. His grip tightened to welded steel. “Twill sweeten your taste.”
I started to say something—and then it only came out as a cry. Fangs pierced me, and I literally felt my blood exploding out from my skin. Gregor sucked, sending a sliver of pain through me, but smothering that was the heat that broke over me. He sucked harder, increasing the dizziness that had taken hold, and I gave myself up to the blackness waiting for me.
FIFTEEN
YOU’RE AWAKE.”
My eyes blinked open to see Cannelle bending over me. She straightened and pointed to a nearby tray.
“Here. Food and an iron pill. You’ll need both. You only have a few hours until sundown.”
“What?”
That sat me all the way up. A cattle prod would’ve had the same effect. Even as her words registered, dizziness swept over me. Cannelle watched with no sympathy.
“He drank a lot from you,” she said, before muttering something under her breath in French.
Even though I still wasn’t proficient, I caught the words for “skinny” and “goat.”
“What’s up, Cannelle?” I asked, not in a good mood at all. “Don’t you know it’s rude to insult someone in a different language so they can’t answer back?”
She put the tray onto the bed, making the tea slosh with her lack of care. “I said I don’t know why he’d take so much nourishment from a scrawny little goat,” she summarized bluntly. “Now, I suggest you eat. Gregor won’t be pleased if you’re unable to do more than bleed underneath him.”
I blanched at this graphic analogy, seized with apprehension and clueless how to extricate myself. Gregor wasn’t the type to take an “I’ve changed my mind” lightly.