Page 12

I wake up to the sound of people walking down the hall outside our room. According to the light shining through the corners of the blackout curtains, it’s morning.

I groan, bleary-eyed, and roll toward Noah’s side of the bed. I realize it’s empty about the time I notice the shower is running.

We did it. We made it through the night.

I faced temptation in the face, and I didn’t bite his neck.

Oh.

Blood.

Just thinking about it makes me edgy. I’m hungry, too, but it’s not the same feeling. This is different. It’s raw and urgent.

And it suddenly hits me—I forgot to put my prescription in the fridge. Wait, though. What fridge? Noah said we were supposed to have one, but that was before they upgraded us to a balcony room. Did we gain an ocean view and lose a fridge?

Not that it matters now. Even though we packed my blood with ice packs, it’s got to be warm and spoiled by now.

What am I going to do? It’s not like we can run to the nearest coffee shop and pick up a tall order of cow blood, no whip.

Crap.

I sit up and cross the room, careful when I pull back the drapes to ensure no direct sunlight is shining right at me.

Luckily, the sun is high in the sky.

Just like last night, the view of the ocean makes me forget my current panic. Today, it’s aqua blue, and the sand is lightly golden. There are people everywhere, and I faintly hear music coming from the hotel’s patio.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms it’s almost noon—not exactly early morning.

I stand here a little longer, watching the water. Once the novelty of the beach view wears off, I throw my suitcase onto the bed and rummage around for my blood. I find it in its insulated bag, surrounded by limp ice packs.

It’s warm, just as I knew it would be.

The shower water stops, and I walk to the bathroom and call through the door, “How long does it take prescription blood to go bad?”

A few seconds later, Noah sticks his head out the door. “We forgot to put it into the mini fridge last night.”

“Yeah,” I answer, distracted.

Noah’s wearing one of the fluffy white hotel towels, maybe the one that used to be a bird. His torso is bare. His hair is wet.

“I don’t even see a mini fridge,” I say absently.

“Call Dr. Martin.” He opens the door a little more, focused on the situation. “See if he can send your prescription to one of the local pharmacies.”

“What about you?” I watch a rogue water droplet drip from his hair and trail down his neck. My eyes snag on his pulse point, and my mouth begins to water.

Noah turns toward the mirror and runs a comb through his short, wet hair. “I’m sure the local NIHA office will have some kind of blood in stock. I’ll just grab some there.”

Right. He has to work.

“Even if I can get a prescription, how will I pick it up?” I ask.

“Call Cassian,” Noah suggests.

“Okay.”

Deciding I need to be a good vampire, I stop ogling my boyfriend’s throat and wander into the main room.

Thankfully, Cassian answers on the first ring.

“Did you and Noah finally decide to crawl out of bed?” he asks. “Every time I tried to send a text, it informed me your phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’”

“It was a long evening,” I say. “There was a mix-up with the rooms, and—never mind. That’s not why I called. I accidentally left my blood out all night.”

“What did I tell you?”

I roll my eyes. “If I can get Dr. Martin to call in a prescription from halfway across the country, do you think you could pick it up for me?”

“I’m starting to feel like a blood delivery boy. You don’t even tip well.”

“Fine, I’ll just eat a tourist.”

Cassian chuckles. “The things I do for you. Talk to your doctor and tell him to call me with the details. I’m at your service.”

I thank him and then hang up, closing my eyes as I try to stave off the gnawing feeling. But it’s not going anywhere. Giving up, I call my new doctor’s office.

“I’m going to run downstairs and grab us some breakfast,” Noah says when he emerges from the bathroom. “It should be faster than room service.”

I nod, listening to elevator music because the receptionist put me on hold.

With the help of my vampire prince conservator, after several phone calls, my doctor’s office eventually gets the details of my prescription worked out.

Cassian is currently on his way to the pharmacy, and I wander into the bathroom to get ready for the day. I’m just rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I hear the door open.

“I’m back,” Noah calls.

“I’ll hurry.”

I quickly finish up, get dressed, and then join Noah at the tiny table that overlooks the balcony.

He offers me a small cup of coffee. “I want to apologize in advance. Cuban coffee is usually half sugar, but this just has some steamed milk.”

I pry off the lid and take a sniff. “It smells strong.”

“It could kill a horse.”

Oddly, he says it like that’s a good thing. I take a tentative sip, prepared to dislike it.

The coffee is a strong, dark roast. But it’s also smooth, and I don’t miss the sugar as much as I expected.

“What do you think?” Noah offers me a food item wrapped in brown paper. It looks suspiciously like a breakfast sandwich.

“It’s pretty good,” I admit, unwrapping the paper. It is a sandwich. Sort of. Instead of bread, the egg is nestled between two pieces of ham. There’s cheese, too. “What in the world is this?”

“Places that offer keto items are often our friends.” He takes a guy-sized bite of his sandwich.

“We can have cheese?”

Befuddled, he looks up as he chews. Then he takes a drink of his coffee to chase down the bite and says, “It’s dairy, like milk or cream. Dairy comes from animals.”

I stare at him, indignant. “This whole time, I’ve been able to eat cheese ?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “I don’t like it all that much, so I never think about it.”

I’m tempted to throw the sandwich at his head. And maybe I would, but cheese .

I take a bite, closing my eyes as I savor it. I can almost pretend the meat isn’t there.

“So, I guess you like cheese,” Noah says dryly.

“I feel like I might be able to do this vampire diet after all.”

He swirls his coffee cup. “Vegetarians don’t eat cheese, do they?”

“You’re thinking vegan. Vegetarians eat things vegans don’t, like milk, eggs, honey, and cheese. I crossed the line between vegetarian and pescatarian as well, sometimes eating fish.” My eyes go wide when I realize what I just said. “What about honey? That’s an animal product.” I pause. “Sort of.”

“It’s like tea or coffee. Some vampires can handle small servings, but you wouldn’t want to overdo it. From what I understand, the enzymes in bees’ stomachs break down the flower nectar, turning it into simple sugars. But at its core, it’s still a plant-based food.”

“Huh.”

He polishes off his sandwich. “Maybe don’t try it while we’re on vacation.”

I glance out the window, not sure this is going to be much of a holiday. I’m glad the view has changed, but I’m still stuck inside.

Finished with my sandwich, I fold the paper and then take another sip of my coffee. It’s good, but it’s not a substitute for blood.

Entirely of their own accord, my gaze strays to Noah’s neck again.

Sensing where my attention has landed, he looks up. His eyes are slightly hooded, and his expression doesn’t help the hunger one bit.

And I realize…he hasn’t had his blood either.

Which means we’re both a little weak this morning. A little willpower impaired.

“Did you remember your medication?” he asks, his voice slightly strained.

“Yep. You?”

“Yeah.”

I clear my throat. “We just ate, like, three animals.”

He smiles, settling back into his seat and taking out his phone as a distraction. “It’s a different hunger.”

Is it ever. I don’t crave Noah like I crave a donut or a salad. (Because that would be weird.)

But I do crave him.

I force myself to walk away, keeping busy by making the bed and then straightening the bathroom. While we wait for Cassian to show up, we go about our business, pretending this little room isn’t shrinking by the minute.

Noah appears in the bathroom doorway while I’m doing my makeup, leaning a well-muscled arm against the doorframe. “We should probably talk to someone at the front desk and see what they can do about this room situation.”

Because I’m already looking in the mirror, I see disappointment flash across my face. Quickly schooling it, I swipe lip balm over my lips and then press them together. From the way Noah watches me, I can tell I didn’t hide it soon enough.

He steps inside the bathroom, coming up behind me. I watch him, lip balm frozen halfway back to my makeup bag.

Meeting my eyes in the reflection, he sets his hand on my shoulder, running his thumb over the side of my neck. “Unless you’re happy with this arrangement?”

I shiver under his touch. “We probably shouldn’t have this conversation until after we’ve had our blood.”

Noah nods, but his eyes drift down to watch the movement of his thumb. “We shouldn’t.”

We’ve skipped two doses—last night and this morning. Two is a lot when you’re a final-stage vampire.

“Where’s Cassian?” I ask, my voice strained.

“About thirty minutes away.”

I laugh a little. “You already looked?”

“I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you?”

He lifts his eyes as he lowers his mouth to my neck. “I was hoping he’d be closer.”

“Really?” My eyelids flutter when he presses his warm lips against my skin. “Because I’m glad he’s not.”

Noah makes a dark noise, and his hands move to either side of my waist. “I really should go downstairs and talk to someone at the front desk.”

“You really shouldn’t. Not yet.”

He teases his mouth over me. “If I stay, we’ll have to find a way to pass the time until Cassian gets here.”

I can’t even respond. I just make a noise that sounds a bit like a mew.

“I have something in mind,” he says, “if you’re open to it.”

“I’m open to it,” I say immediately.

Noah chuckles. His warm breath sends tingles down my spine. “I haven’t said what I’m planning yet.”

“We both know what you’re talking about, and please. Just do it already.”

“Okay.” He backs up, smirking. “I’ll get a K-drama pulled up on my tablet.”

I blink at my reflection as he walks out of the bathroom. “What?”

His answer is a deep laugh.

“Noah,” I say sternly, marching into the main room after him. “That is not?—”

He catches me around the waist, cradles the back of my neck with his free hand, and presses me against the hall door. His voice a dark rumble, he says, “It’s not what?”

His vampire is showing. He has me trapped, vulnerable. I can feel his hunger. It’s a tangible thing, and it calls to me.

I like it more than I should. Or maybe I like it exactly as much as I should.

We’re the same now. Equals. Both monsters.

Both hungry.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door I’m currently trapped against, and a bright voice calls, “Housekeeping!”

“Go away,” Noah instructs loudly, not mincing any words.

The woman knocks again. “If you don’t want me to clean your room, you have to leave the tag on the handle.”

Noah pulls me against his chest, opens the door just enough to shove the hangtag outside, and then slams it back in place.

I blink at him, not sure if I want to laugh or melt.

He meets my eyes and steps in close. “You were saying?”

I swallow, my mouth dry. “I don’t want to watch a show.”

Noah lowers his head. “Then tell me what you want.”

I’m familiar with this style of questioning. Last time, it ended well. This time, it might end even better.

“You,” I breathe.

Noah nods once, his honeyed eyes darkening, and then his mouth is on mine.

Noah is usually gentle. When we were first together, he was worried about his fangs. And lately, he’s been worried about my fangs. His kisses are careful, respectful even.

But this is not that kiss.

He’s not even that Noah.

Right now, his reckless desire matches mine. He presses me into the door, his body firmly holding me in place. I gasp against his mouth, fire kindling in my stomach, and then fist my hand in his button-up shirt, demanding more.

His hand travels over my back until it lands between my shoulder blades, and then he drags me away from the door. Clinging to each other, we move into the living space of the hotel room, away from the entrance, closer to temptation.

My hunger flares, all-consuming, and my fangs press at my gums. I grab Noah by the shoulders and back him onto the bed. He allows himself to be moved, amusement playing at his mouth even though his eyes are still dark.

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.