Crouching Vampire, Hidden Fang(45)

 

The events of the past are just that-long gone. They do not matter now.

 

I thought, but didn’t share with him, that they must be important, or he wouldn’t feel so compelled to keep them secret.

 

What does matter is the fact that I’ve taken too much of your blood. You should have stopped me.

 

I laughed into his head even as a tiny part of my heart was breaking. “I don’t think anything could have stopped either one of us, short of a nuclear explosion, and frankly, I doubt if even that would have done it.”

 

“Nonetheless, you must rest,” he said, tucking me under the blankets. He flipped off the light and slid into bed next to me. “You must eat extra food in the morning. You will need to replenish the blood I’ve taken from you.”

 

“The last thing in the world I need is more food. You’re fussing for nothing-I feel fine. You’re the one who has to eat more. You’re still skin and bones.”

 

He said nothing, but rolled on his side, pulling me up against him and tossing a leg over me in a protective manner that left me melting like a big puddle of jelly.

 

I was embraced in a cocoon of warmth, one that smelled like a slightly tangy, sweet Kristoff and the lingering earthier scent of our recent activities.

 

I felt the change in him. He had accepted me in his life, acknowledged that we were bound together. I did not sense any resentment over that fact, just a recognition of what we both were, and his adjustment to the fact that he now had me to think of, as well as himself. I knew I should be grateful for that, happy that he would no longer be fighting the fact that we were together, but that little dark, hidden spot inside him ate away my pleasure.

 

That he hid the true depths of his feelings for his dead love said much for his consideration for me. That he held so tightly on to it boded ill for the future.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7

 

 

 

 

“I’ve been thinking.”

 

A slight snore ruffled my hair.

 

“Kristoff.” I shoved his chest. He rolled over onto his back, giving a little grunt, followed immediately by another brief snore.

 

“Kristoff!” I clicked on the small bedside lamp, propping myself up on one elbow, and prodded him in the side until one of his eyes cracked open.

 

“Hruh?”

 

“You’re snoring.”

 

He blinked sleepily at me. “Wha’?”

 

“Vampires do not snore. Everyone knows that.” I laid my hand on his chest, a little frisson of happiness skittering inside me at the nearness of him. “Were you sleeping?”

 

He was fully awake now, and the muzzy look was gone, replaced by a slight frown. “What sort of question is that? You just said I was snoring.”

 

“It was a courtesy question, intended to give you time to wake up so you can speak coherently.”

 

His frown turned to a suspicious scowl. “You’re one of those women who likes to talk after sex, aren’t you?”

 

“All women like to talk after sex. It cements a feeling of intimacy and allows us to feel that our partners, frequently notorious for their ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ policy, are interested in more than just physical satisf-Hey! Stop going back to sleep; this is important!”

 

“Nothing is more important to a man after sex than getting eight or nine hours of uninterrupted sleep,” he said, closing his eyes.

 

“You’re a vampire,” I felt obligated to point out. “You’re not a normal man.”

 

“I’m male. The same principle applies,” he insisted, his eyes refusing to open.

 

“Oh, really.” I thought for a moment, then shoved back the blanket, taking his now-relaxed penis in my hands.

 

His eyes shot open.

 

“Aha!” I said, shoving aside one of his legs so I could kneel between them. “I knew it.”

 

Interest was chased by irritation in his lovely teal eyes. “Dammit, woman, I may be immortal, but there are limits to my abilities. I’m not an incubus who can satisfy your lustful desires all . . . Hrnng.”

 

I smiled at the way his eyes rolled back in his head as I bent down to take the very tip of him into my mouth. I let my tongue swish around the underside for a bit before looking up. “Now that I have your attention . . .”

 

His head snapped up from where it had lolled back onto the pillow. “You’re stopping?”

 

“I just wanted to wake you up enough to talk,” I said, resting my hand on his thighs.

 

He glared at me. “There’s a word for what you’re doing, you know, and it’s not very nice.”