Page 7 of Chosen, Eternally

J ames bursts out laughing. “What? I think I would know if I were a vampire, Cate.”

Devastated, I say, “Maybe you aren’t one now, but you’re in transition.

I think that’s why you’re still able to eat human food and…

Well, anyway, soon enough you’ll lose your soul, grow fangs, and only care for two things: human blood and the destruction of witches. You’ll be evil. Dangerous. And then…”

I can’t hold back my tears—they stream freely down my cheeks, my heart shattered into a million pieces almost making me wish he’d never come back. Especially since it’s my responsibility to rid this town of vampires, and now that will include him.

James takes a deep breath and wipes his hands on a napkin before walking over to me.

When he reaches my side, he cups my face with his right and holds my hip tightly with his left—staking a claim, while trying to comfort me.

And I want that. I want him to stake a claim.

I want him to hold me, to love me. I need him to tell me everything will be alright because I’m not sure I’ll survive his death a second time.

Not when it will be at my hands this time around.

“We don’t even know whether I’m truly changing into a vampire. Maybe it was something else. Maybe they gave me a weird potion like you did, or?—”

“James, c’mon.” Sobbing, I let my forehead drop on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his waist.

He rubs his hands up and down my back in soothing motions.

It’s heaven and hell.

“Cate, I love you,” he whispers in my ear.

“So much. I’ve loved you for over ten years—in the most consuming, deliciously torturous way.

Since the very moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I was a goner.

I have loved you, Cate, in a way that feels impossible for anyone else to know that kind of love.

So I don’t think anything will ever change that.

Even if I do become a vampire, I could never lose my soul, Cate.

Because you’ve owned it since the very second you said ‘hello,’ and I know you’d never let anything happen to it.

” James pulls away and tips my face back to look me in the eye before he continues: “But if I do lose it… If you do need to kill me. I forgive you. In fact—” He pauses to take a deep breath.

“In fact, I give you permission to kill me. If I’m a danger to you and the rest of the world, then… then you should stop me.”

“Don’t say that,” I mumble, pressing my face into his chest as I struggle to breathe through the crying. “Don’t.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue.

After a minute, he pulls us down to my couch and holds me for several minutes as the exhaustion of the last few hours catches up with me.

“You’re handling this all a bit too well,” I whisper. “How are you not freaking out? I mean, you were held captive for over a year. You haven’t spoken to anyone in just as long. And now you might be a vampire and you’re… just okay with it?”

He sighs. “Obviously not. I’m not okay, and I know there are many things I’m going to have to deal with.

But right now, I just want to enjoy this time together.

Especially if it’s limited. I’ve been dreaming about reuniting with you every second of every day, so I’m not going to blow this opportunity on a mental breakdown. ”

I nod and exhale, inhaling the scent of him. It’s not quite what I remember—a year of captivity will do that to someone—but it’s still there beneath the musty smell of wherever the hell her was kept alive.

“Your food is getting cold,” I whisper once I’ve settled a bit.

James laughs once. “I don’t give a fuck. Even if it’s congealed, it’ll still be the best thing I’ve had in over a year. And this—being here for you and us—is more important than anything.”

I fist my hands in his shirt—the same one he was wearing the last time I saw him. And it’s right then that I realize something: “You probably haven’t had a bath in a looong time.” I pull away to meet his red face.

“I… no. I’m sorry if I stink and—” James begins to push me away, but I hold on.

“No, don’t. I don’t mind. Didn’t even notice it, actually. I’m so happy to see you that—” I shake my head. “What I’m saying is… Do you want to shower? I can do your laundry, too. So you can change into clean clothes.”

He laughs at my change in subject. “Really?”

“Really.”

James spends over half an hour in the bathroom, and I don’t blame him. If I were him and I’d spent the last year without so much as a sink, I’d be in there for over a full day (we all know my love of baths).

I’m thankful for the respite, for the opportunity to think about what comes next—even if I’m still drawing a blank—but part of me wished he’d said no to it. Part of me wished he’d said he wanted to spend every second we had together before it all comes to an end. Part of me wished he’d?—

But then all of that regret disappears in an instant when he walks out of my bathroom in a cloud of steam like a fucking dream, droplets of water over his muscular chest, a towel that’s way too small for him struggling to stay wrapped around his hips, the beginning of his v-line cut peeking out like a goddamn Adonis.

I could lick him dry.

“I… Your clothes aren’t ready yet,” I say, my voice sounding like it’s miles away.

“That’s okay.” He grins.

And because I’m an idiot, all I can think to say is “Did you keep up a workout routine while you were in captivity or something?”

He sputters a laugh. “ What ?”

I shake my head, wanting to die. “Nothing.”

James looks down at himself, seemingly realizing for the first time that he’s basically naked. “Oh, you mean this?”

And then drops.

His.

Towel .

I stop breathing, because it’s too much. I cannot multitask—between inhaling and focusing on the Greek god in front of me, I choose the latter. After all, how much longer of this will I have? My time with James is more finite than oxygen.

So I take a step forward and tentatively lift a hand, holding it just over his skin.

Still hot from his shower, I can feel the heat radiate off him.

Soon enough, once he’s completed his transition, his body temperature will run low—a chilling fifty-ish degrees—but for now, the fire between us is scorching.

“You can touch me if you want,” he says, his voice gravelly. Rough. Hungry.

Finally, I inhale a sharp breath. “I’m almost too scared to,” I confess.

James takes my wrist and presses the palm of my hand right over his heart. It’s still beating, though slower than it should be for your average adult male. So I focus on the drum, memorizing the beat. Tattooing it on the side of my brain to carry with me in the quiet times to come.

With incredible tenderness, he takes my other hand and places it right next to the first.

“Touch me,” he almost groans.

With a sharp intake of breath, I follow orders. I’ve been such a good girl, too. I deserve this.

A rush of heat pools between my legs, my chest so tight there’s not an ounce of air that would fit in my lungs right now.

As I begin to move my hands over him, to feel the hard muscles of his shoulders and biceps, I can’t help but admire the smoothness of his skin, the perfectly delicious way in which he looks down at me with a smirk that turns my legs to Jell-O and builds low in my stomach.

“Go lower,” he murmurs.

I swallow, but there’s a big lump in my throat making the task impossible. “I—Are you sure?” My voice is barely a squeak.

His smile is gentle when he nods, but the fire in his eyes is blazing.

With his permission, I venture down, running my fingers in between the lines of his abdomen, admiring every dip and hill, the light smattering of hair—his happy trail—leading all the way down to where I can feel he’s already hard.

I bring both hands down the sides of his ribs and admire how they taper into his waist and hips.

And that’s where I stop to really look. To gawk, really.

To drag the tips of my fingers down that delicious V.

Down those defined muscles that lead directly to his cock.

A cock that has me gasping in shock, burning at the cheeks, and aching in between my legs.

“ James ,” I moan, unable to take my eyes off him. It.

“Yeah?”

I nod.

“Can I…?”

“ God , yes. Please,” he begs.

It’s only then that I notice his panting, the look of desperation in his eyes. And it makes me feel all-powerful and invincible—more than winning any fight with vampires ever has. Because this perfect, gorgeous, sweet, intelligent man wants me. Wants me . How is that even possible?

My gaze lifts to meet his just before I wrap my hand around his cock—hard, thick, warm, and perfect. And the way his eyes roll to the back of his head is everything—the validation I need to know that I’m not the only one about to spontaneously combust from this encounter.

“Harder,” he says with a groan. “I like it rough .” His confession burns my cheeks, heats my skin.

He gasps. “Your hand. It just got hot.”

I pull it away, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes, when I’m very emotional, my powers… They just?—”

“You lose control?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Something in his expression shifts. Like he’s… proud of himself for it?

“Don’t apologize.” And with speed that rivals my own movements in battle, he pulls my face to his, wraps an arm around my waist, and kisses me as if we were an inch from death.

And aren’t we, though?

But I couldn’t care less. You couldn’t pay me to care about anything other than this moment right here, right now, in James’s arms as he paws at my clothes. Pulls at my pants and manages to push them down without ever even unbuttoning them. Lifts the hem of my henley and pulls it over my head.

Before I even realize it, I’m fully naked—where did my underwear go?—swept up in James’s arms, and thrown on my bed.