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Able to reach him better now that he’s sitting, I crawl onto his lap and tilt his chin up, exposing his neck. Breathing hard, I watch his pulse jump.

His hands move to my back, his fingers gently pressing into the cotton of my lightweight tank.

Testing myself, I brush my lips over his throat. He shaved this morning, and his skin is warm and smooth. His welcome groan rumbles through his chest.

I pause, waiting for him to tell me to stop. He always does.

But this time, he doesn’t.

9

I meet Noah’s eyes,silently asking permission.

Are we doing this?

He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine, his kiss sweetly scorching. I melt into him, my blood humming, emotions high.

But when my fingers move to the buttons of his bright white shirt, he places his hand over mine, stopping me.

“I don’t want to get blood on it,” I whisper, the tip of my finger toying with a button.

Hanging his head back, breath ragged, Noah closes his eyes like he’s trying to dredge up enough willpower to put an end to this. Finally, he manages to say, “We can’t make decisions while we’re hungry.”

He’s right. Iknowhe’s right. But my fangs hurt, I’m edgy from being stuck inside for the last few weeks, and this hunger feels like too big a beast to cage.

When our eyes meet, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, playing with the short strands of hair with my fingers.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.

“There are so many things I can’t do and can’t have. You are the only bright spot in my life right now, the only thing making this bearable.” I search his eyes. “I’m tired of being careful.”

Noah swallows. “I don’t think we’ll stop if we cross that line. And I made you a promise—I want to keep it.”

We study each other, desperate, so close to a beautiful ledge. But this promise means a lot to Noah, and somewhere under this gnawing hunger, it means a lot to me.

After a few seconds, I slide off his lap, pressing my bare feet into the rough hotel carpet before I put several safe steps between us.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Noah stands, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He looks like he’s going to say something when there’s a knock.

“I’ll check it.” He crosses the space and opens the door.

“Room service,” Cassian says when he steps inside, dangling the prescription bag between his index finger and thumb, oblivious to what he almost interrupted.

Has it already been thirty minutes? Time flies when you’re making out with your vampire boyfriend.

Cassian opens the bag, revealing a brand-new bottle of blood. It’s never looked so welcome.

I hurry into the bathroom and take two plastic-wrapped disposable cups from the counter.

Cassian comes in behind me and snatches the ice bucket. “The vending machines are by the elevator. For the time being, I’ll fill this up. We’ll figure out a more permanent arrangement after you’ve had your morning dose.”

As Cassian leaves the room, I break the seal on the bottle and pour scarlet liquid into the cups. Wordlessly, Noah accepts one. Together, we down the blood, both of us cringing at the taste. Then we rinse our mouths with water and wash out the cups so we don’t freak out the maid later.

I’d like to say the hunger subsides, but it doesn’t. At least not fully. My fangs still pulse at my gumline, and Noah looks as tasty as ever.

“I’m going to the front desk now,” he says, his voice tight.