Page 33 of Just for a Taste

Z eno trained his gaze on me unapologetically, his eyes visibly trailing along the curves of my body. His fingers grazed against my cheek, snaked slowly along the veins in my neck, and lingered for just a whisper over the hollow of my throat. Only then was his path blocked by the oppressing lip of my high shirt collar.

His hand froze, and I became acutely conscious of the rise and fall of my chest as he puzzled out the predicament we were in. He fumbled with it for a moment, trying in vain to move the fabric. Then, after a few excruciating seconds, he finally growled, “Fuck it.”

In a swift motion, Zeno pulled me against him with one arm, hooked his fingers into my shirt, and yanked. A chill ran down my spine in perfect unison with the sound and sensation of tearing fabric. I gasped as cold air met freshly bare skin, my shirt now torn in a jagged V so that my shoulders and the tops of my breasts were exposed.

Zeno’s grip around me tightened so that we were flush against one another, and he pinned my arm to my side before I could cover myself with it. The vampire sank his fangs into my neck, and searing heat washed over me.

Zeno grasped feverishly at me, using every ridge of every rib to claw me closer. His nails dug so tightly into my back that I feared the rest of my shirt would be torn to shreds within seconds.

I squirmed at the electricity in his fingertips, and Zeno frenzied at the movement, drinking me in further. My skin fluttered every time he moaned, and it took only a few greedy gulps of my blood before the entirety of my body was a numb, shaking mess. Once every crevice of our bodies was pressed as tightly as possible against each other, we were trembling statues.

There was a moment that seemed both endless and fleeting, where the only thing I could feel was the pulsing of my veins and Zeno’s warm breath on my neck.

He pulled away from me slowly with a shaky breath. Our faces were now inches apart, our noses touching. I could see my blood on his parted lips, and within his eyes burned a fire I had never seen before. I had been clutching his shirt tightly, had been pressing my body into his and digging my nails into his arms. Though I loosened my grip and untangled myself from him, the exhilaration coursing within me had not abetted.

Slowly, deliberately, he swiped his tongue across his lips, savoring the last drop of me. I took one step back, then another, until I was touching the desk behind us. He was panting now, excitement coursing within him, waiting to pounce the moment I gave him the go-ahead.

I nodded.

With a fierceness I didn’t know he possessed, Zeno threw his arm across the desk, sending books and papers flying. An inkwell tipped over, black ink pouring down the far corner of the desk.

And then he was on top of me, feverishly kissing the spot he had drunk from me. His lips traveled along my collarbone, and his hands were everywhere, tearing off the rest of my blouse, pulling at my skirt, unbuttoning his pants.

Then he placed his arm just above my head, hovering above me so closely, I could feel the warmth emanating from his chest.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Zeno whispered, cupping my face with his other hand, trailing his thumb across my lips. “Those eyes will undo me. Those lips will be the death of me.”

The soft movement of his fingertips along my jaw sent a wave of shivers through my body. My breath caught in my throat when we locked eyes. Were mine just as dark and desirous as his? Was I looking at a reflection of my want?

But then, beneath the wanting, I caught a moment of hesitance in his movements. He loosened from me, and something stormed between us—some unseen dilemma within him.

“Please,” I whimpered, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Don’t stop.”

There was a moment of silence. I bit my lip, and something in him unraveled.

Zeno pulled my hands off his neck and pinned them above my head. “How can I resist such pretty pleas when I’ve already waited so long?”

I let out a gasp, and he smothered my cries with his lips. I arched my back, pulling him into me.

Indeed, how had we waited so long?

∞∞∞

I woke up the next morning in his bed, his arms wrapped around me. His skin felt real, his breath on the top of my head felt real, and the soft beating of his heart in my ears felt real. But I had dreamed of being in Zeno’s bed so many times, I dared not move, or even breathe. I held my breath as long as I could until finally, I couldn’t help but nestle into him. If this was a dream, I should savor it. And on the off chance that this was reality, I needed to savor it even more.

He planted a soft kiss on top of my head and pulled me in tightly. “Good morning, passerotta. ”

My face grew hot. Passerotta— “little sparrow.” Being given a pet name seared what happened last night into reality.

“G-Good morning, er, Zen—Duca de’—” I stammered desperately, then admitted defeat by burying my head into him.

Zeno laughed and caressed my hair. “No need to get flustered. You don’t have to call me anything but my name.”

“That’s probably for the better.” I giggled. “I don’t think you’d want the kind of nicknames from where I grew up. Unless Tater, Squirt, or Sugar Pie make your heart skip a beat.”

He feigned a contemplative look. “I could get used to Sugar, I think. Especially if you used that pretty Southern accent of yours.”

I rolled my eyes but still smiled. “It’s either Zeno or Q-tip. That’s definitely what you would have been called. Take your pick.”

The vampire scoffed and gently pinched my face. “Cheeky, aren’t you? Zeno it is, then.”

He sat up in bed, taking me with him. The change in position shifted the feeling in the room, and I wondered if our banter was a prelude to something a bit more serious. The events of last night had been unexpected, and so many questions were still unresolved that talking through them was clearly warranted. What were we now? Were we supposed to tell anyone, or was this meant to be a secret? Where would we go from here?

But when Zeno looked down at me, every question was answered with a single known truth—I was his beniamina , in every sense of the word.

We still needed to talk, I decided, but it could wait a bit. We could just enjoy simplicity and one another’s presence.

Unfortunately, my counterpart had other ideas.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for a trip to Puglia for a few weeks,” he said plainly. “I plan on bringing you with me.”

Yet another curveball. The sheets rustled as I shifted away from him to make eye contact.

“Tomorrow?” I asked, brows raised. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the abbey?”

“Who said you were allowed to get out of bed yet?” Zeno grumbled playfully. In a motion equal parts gentle and swift, he pulled me back into his chest. “I have no qualms with the abbey,” he added after nuzzling his head back onto mine. “Rather, the Puglia residence is one of the oldest Medici properties, and it rarely sees any guests. I went there only once as a child, when my family went to visit Sforza’s villa. Seeing him was why I remembered that place. He’s been quite . . . amicable, despite it all. Regardless, there have to be countless untouched documents there, ones which hold many secrets.”

I remembered my bags. I felt cold despite the warmth pressed along my back. I moved my hands, which had been wrapped around his forearm, to my side.

“You were going to have me go there, weren’t you?” I demanded. “And send me off under the guise of ‘temporary research.’”

He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “It was a fleeting thought during those first few hours when we got back. One of dozens. I decided the more appropriate option was for me to go and send them back to you here. Either that or send you away fully stipended and buy you some house to live in wherever you wanted.”

Taking advantage of the gap between us, I crossed my arms. “But you know where I want to live. And you know I don’t want some allowance. That would just make you feel better about it all, not me.”

Zeno scoffed and gave me a bittersweet smile. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m a selfish man.”

The rumbling sensation of someone laughing while pressed against me was too sweet, and despite myself, I loosened up again. Of course, my emotional guard remained. “How do I know that me being there isn’t just a fleeting thought? How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to change your mind?”

“Oh, mia passerotta , that will never happen,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “Now that you’ve agreed to be mine, I have no intention of letting you go.”

Ba-dump, ba-dump. I didn’t know whose quickened heartbeat I was hearing, but I got the strange feeling they were synchronized. That was all it took to give in to it once again—that intoxicating feeling of infatuation.

“I’ll go with you.”

I pulled his face closer, threw aside the sheets, and breathed him in. He pulled back to meet my eyes and assess my intent, and I gave a smirk and nod.

Released from self-restraint, Zeno lowered me onto my back and stared down at me, already teeming with electricity. I caught a glimpse of his eyes in those few milliseconds before he kissed me, full of passion.

I could spit in his face and cut his throat, I realized, and even to his dying breath, he would love me more than life itself.