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It’s not until the early hours of the morning, with the first streaks of dawn slipping in to chase away the darkness, that Ophelia shifts in her slumber and rolls away, gently rousing me from sleep. She settles on her back with her arm thrown carelessly above her and nothing but a few inches of crisp white sheet hiding the swell of her breasts from the morning light. I reach over and pull the duvet up to cover her and keep her warm. Slowly, taking care not to jostle her, I ease myself from bed.

Every part of me protests as I leave the room, and even more so when I turn back at the threshold and find her curled onto her side.

With one hand reaching over into the spot I just vacated, fingers grasping the sheets, and a furrow etched into her forehead, it’s all I can do not to cross the room and crawl back into bed.

But I don’t. I stay where I am for a few heartbeats more before slipping from the room and down the hall, heading to grab something clean to wear from the laundry and retreat to my office for the day like the coward I am.

19

Ophelia

I wake alone and naked in an unfamiliar bed, but strangely, the immediate panic I might have expected doesn’t flood through me.

At least not right away.

No, the first few seconds after waking are filled with deliciously achy muscles and bright autumn sun streaming through the windows and the absolute extravagance of the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.

The panic doesn’t come until I sit up, stretch my arms over my head, catch sight of my pants laying in a heap next to an armchair in front of a hearth, and remember exactly where I am.

Memories come rushing back in a torrent.

My van breaking down. Being thrown over Casimir’s shoulder and carried upstairs, treated to a luxurious room and an even more luxurious fire lit by a vampire who only seemed to want to take care of me.

Sinking into Casimir’s lap.

Begging for his bite.

Getting that bite, and so much more.

Losing my head in some unimaginable haze of want and need and pleasure.

It felt a hell of a lot like being drunk, or maybe high, though I don’t have a whole lot of experience with the latter beyond the few times I’ve indulged with Cleo and Steph back in Seattle.

Only, if I would have been intoxicated on something other than a vampire’s bite, maybe I would have been blessed with forgetting in the sober light.

But fuck me, because I remember it all.

The memories are cloaked in a dark, syrupy haze, but each one comes back in turn, tumbling through my mind in guilty, mortified succession.

I asked him to stay.

Even that last part—just before I finally sunk into sleep deeper than I can remember having in years—is terribly clear in my mind.

Tucked up against his side, with my hand over his heart and my face nuzzled close, I asked him to stay, and he did.

Not that it seems to have stuck as I whip my head from side to side, surveying the room. It’s empty, nothing but a dead fire in the hearth and my rumpled clothes on the floor and all the memories of last night haunting me as I crawl slowly out of bed.

Gathering up my clothes and dressing quickly, I tiptoe to the door, taking one last look at the room around me.

This place really is spectacular.

It was hard to get a grip on the details while I was tossed over Cas’s shoulder, and then I was a bit too… distracted to care much about the decor. This morning, though, I let myself indulge in a good, long look. It’s the last time I’ll ever be in this room, so I might as well.

Rich burgundy carpets and wood-paneled walls give the room a seductive, sensual vibe, softened a bit by the big four-poster bed piled high with pillows and a plush duvet. All the furnishings are elegant and expensive-looking—dark wood with intricately carved details, all slightly mismatched in a way thatmakes it obvious it’s not just some set from a big box furniture store.

I take a half-step back into the room, curiosity almost getting the better of me, before I shake my head to snap me back to the present.

Now is no time for snooping.