SeduceMe(39)

As he continued to pace and berate himself, he wondered how far an apology would go. The idea of begging for her forgiveness didn’t even pacify him. How could it possibly satisfy her?

Of course he wouldn’t blame her for being furious with him or for hating him for causing her pain. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He’d been a vampire for over two hundred years—he knew better this! How could he possibly have thrown out all of his convictions in one night and given into his desire for a human?

But then when she came out of the bathroom, looking as impeccably put together as she had the moment she’d set foot on the premises, he knew why he’d taken such a huge risk with her tonight. She was simply irresistible.

She handed over his shirt and then clutched her purse close to her breasts. She’d freshened her makeup and lipstick and had brushed her long, silky curls, draping them over her bare shoulder. She looked breathtaking, save for the severity of her stance. Her shoulders were squared and her chin lifted a notch. But her lower lip quivered. And her eyes were slightly puffy and red.

He really had scared her with the bruises. Maybe even more so than Jane had with the blood.

He took a step toward her, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and hold her, but fearing he’d only damage her more.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, though words couldn’t make up for what he’d done to her.

She shook her head and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing more than what I expected.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “You were expecting this?”

She let out a short, hollow laugh. One that pained him to hear. “I’m used to it, remember?”

Now he was confused. He reached his hand out to her. “Shana, I—”

“Please.” She stepped away. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll survive. I always do.”

She moved briskly past him and walked to the door.

“Wait,” he called out. “You can’t just leave. I don’t want you to go. I really need to apologize. I feel horrible about—”

“Don’t,” she said, not even looking at him. “I enjoyed the evening, regardless. I’ll be fine. Just…forget about all of this. Please.”

She pulled the heavy door open and disappeared into the hallway.

With every fiber of his being, he wanted to run after her. To beg her forgiveness. To tell her he’d never hurt her like that again. He’d swear to be more careful with her. Yet at the same time, he knew that was impossible. She made him ravenous with desire. She drove him absolutely wild with her sultry smiles and breathy sighs. Everything about her made him want to crush her to him, as he’d done numerous times because he couldn’t seem to get close enough to her or deep enough inside her.

Which would just lead to more bruises.

Infuriated, he tossed the shirt into the fireplace, knowing he’d never get the scent of her out of it. A worthless effort, really, and a waste of a three-hundred-dollar shirt, because he’d never get the scent of her out of his nose. Everything about her was engrained on his brain and burned into his now-confirmed-damned soul. Causing him to be even more tormented than he’d been before he’d had the privilege of making love to her.

He skulked about, irritated and loathing himself, wondering what the hell to do next. Drake wasn’t the type of man to bury his head in the sand when something needed to be addressed. Especially something this critical, this dire. But his rational mind told him it was best to let her walk away. What did he have to offer her anyway? Pain every time he laid a hand on her, which of course he wouldn’t be able to resist doing. The need to leave her friends behind when he moved on every decade so no one noticed he didn’t age. And, eventually, her mortal death while he continued to live for eternity. That’s what.

The thought of moving on stayed with him as he dumped out the rest of the champagne and the ice that had turned into a pool of water in the chiller. He’d ruminated over the need to pull up stakes if anyone found out about his or Jane’s existence and now that Shana knew… Maybe it was a good idea for him to head back to London for a while. Put some distance between him and the object of his never-ending desire.

He poured a scotch and swirled the amber liquid as he absently rotated his wrist, seeing nothing but her eyes in the bottom of the glass.

Too bad it’d take a couple bottles of booze to dull his senses. Unfortunately, dull wouldn’t be enough. He longed to be completely numb. Then maybe he wouldn’t still feel her soft hair and her supple skin. Maybe he wouldn’t smell the intoxicating scent of her arousal and hear the hypnotic sound of her playful laugh, her sensual begging, her soulful moans.