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“Bossy,” he whispered, but he nuzzled closer and bit me.

The first tug of his mouth drew a grunt from me. Desire kindled. I was too spent to get it up again, so lust became something slower. Easier. Instead of a fire, it was a lazy smolder. His stubble scratched my neck, his jaw working against my shoulder as he took his fill.

I ran my hand down his flank to his hip. Tugged one of his thighs between mine until our cocks met. He sighed and drank and rutted against me a bit. Sithistrans assumed all vampires embraced the sexual component of feeding. Those assumptions were wrong, especially when it came to drinking from the same gender. Females were a little more liberal with their desires. It wasn’t unheard of for ladies at court to invite a favorite serving girl into their beds. Males were different. Some wouldn’t feed from other males at all. Others viewed arousal as an inconvenient side effect. It had confused the fuck out of me when I was young.

“You’re not scared, are you, Varick?”

Not anymore.

Laurent licked my neck and eased back. His hair was adorably mussed, and he looked softer. Younger. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I would have done more for him. I would have held him against me and soothed all the stings I’d caused. Would have carried him downstairs and put him in a bath and sprinkled herbs over the water just like his servants did. But that would have pushed him too far. He could tolerate me taking him apart. But he never let me put him back together the way I wanted. So I took what I could get and was grateful for it.

“Have dinner with me and Given tonight,” he said.

The hazy aftermath of his feeding evaporated. I pulled back, putting more space between us. Although, it had been there all along. The Deepnight wasn’t the only thing that had brought us here, to this secret place where we spoke our minds no matter what. We’d both known it from the moment he climbed the stairs. Had felt it growing in our bed over the past week. One good, hard fuck wasn’t going to close that gap.

But we’d tried. Because neither of us could help ourselves.

I sat up. “You took her to Lar Satha.” It came out like an accusation. Probably because it was one.

He left the bed and started gathering his clothes. “It’s her birthright.”

“That’s not why you did it.”

He pulled his pants over his hips. “Oh, are we done pretending you don’t believe she has eleven ancestry?”

Anger burned my gut. “Did you get what you hoped for? Did she charm flowers out of thin air? Summon animals from the forest with her singing voice?”

“I can’t tell if you’re jealous or just being a prick.”

“Jealous? Of you or her?”

He snorted. “Please.”

“She’s a beautiful woman. You think you can compete?”

He retrieved the loincloth from the floor and let it dangle from one finger. A dark eyebrow went up. His expression was a resounding yes.

“I’m not fucking jealous. And I still don’t trust her.”

“She’s not a spy.”

My temper snapped. I squeezed the sheet in a tight fist. “No, she’s something much worse. And you’re playing with fire.”

He drew himself up, authority settling back over him like a mantle. “I’ll see you at dinner. That’s an order, General.” He went to the stairs, scooping up his shirt and boots as he went. At the landing, he paused and looked over his shoulder. His eyes softened. For a moment, it seemed like he might say more—tell me something to explain all the distance he’d put between us. But all he said was, “Trust me a little, baby.” And then he was gone.

Part of me wanted to hurl that baby at his back. But I held my tongue. It was my weakness—that endearment. He was generous with it, saying it all sorts of ways depending on the conversation. When he said it during sex, it was rough and filthy. When he teased me, it was slow and a little exasperated. When he was serious, as he’d been just now, it was quiet. Tender.

That one. That was my favorite. It almost made up for the words he never said but that I wanted to hear more than anything.

But they were words I couldn’t tell him to say. They had to come from him.

So I didn’t shout after him. I got up and dressed. I blew out the candles and descended the steps. But I left part of myself at the top of the stairs in the secret room.

Waiting.

Chapter Sixteen