Page 19 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. One Books #1-4

B rayden lifted his phone again and checked for a response from Willow. Nothing.

It was nearly midday, and he needed a few hours’ sleep. He didn’t know when to expect the queen; it could be any time. Until he did, he needed to stay here.

And afterward?

Could he return to Willow and act normal? Would he ever feel normal again?

“Fuck it.” He sat up, leaning on the headboard, and dialed her number.

Ring. Ring. Fucking ring.

“Hello!”

The sound of her voice calmed him. “Hey,” he said, all husky. “Switching to FaceTime.”

“Oh, hey...oh hey!” she repeated as his face appeared on the screen. “Where are you? It’s all dark. You okay?”

Oh, right. He hadn’t thought this bit through. He was also shirtless. What good reason would he have for lying in the dark in the middle of the day? Jesus, he was losing it.

“Migraine,” he said. Thank goodness for human TV.

“Damn, I get them occasionally. Do you have medicine?”

Medicine?

Nope, and he didn’t have the information of what they used stored away, so please don’t ask, he silently prayed.

“Yes. I’ll live, but I wanted to see your face before I crashed.”

A smile spread across his lips as a blush hit her cheeks. God, she thrilled him. The way she reacted to his voice, his body, his mind—it was beyond anything.

“You are so sweet.”

Yeah, fuck, he was not sweet in the slightest.

Warmth spread through his chest at the way she was looking at him. “I’ve never been called sweet before, Willow.”

The blush deepened and she chewed her bottom lip. His cock stiffened.

“I don’t want you to be sweet all the time.”

The delicious moment hung between them until it became awkward. Like full-of-feelings-and-sexual-need awkward.

He coughed.

“Are you feeling okay today? After last night?”

He’d been hard on her body. She had loved it, but he suspected she would be sore today. God, he really wanted to be with her right now, taking care of her.

She nodded, not shyly, but in an intimate way only the two of them understood.

“I’m all right. I was in the bath soaking, which is why I hadn’t responded to your messages.”

His body relaxed at the explanation, and he mentally reminded himself to kick his own ass. What a pussy. Then he realized it wasn’t insecurity, but a need to ensure she was safe.

Fine, not a pussy. Thank fuck.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine, Bray, honestly. You get some rest and take care of your migraine.”

His body tensed with the need to port to her and hold her. To gently make love to her or simply massage her. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and sunk down into his bed. God, how he wished she were in his arms and they could just lie and talk all day.

It never felt like he had enough time with her.

“I’d rather you were here.”

Whoa .

Where the fuck had that come from?

It was one thing to think these emotional thoughts, another to say them out loud.

“Same.”

More of the staring.

Speak, for fuck’s sake.

“Well...” He coughed. “Yeah, I’ll get some rest and head over. If...” He’d been planning to make an excuse for tonight, assuming Kate turned up, but now he was so fucked up in the head about everything he didn’t know what to do.

About anything.

“If you don’t feel up to it, stay home. Or I could come to yours?”

Nooooo.

His heart literally skipped a beat. It could never, ever happen. He watched Willow’s beautiful, hopeful eyes poke dents in his heart.

“I’ll text you later to tell you how I’m doing, okay, beautiful?”

She nodded, giving him a small smile at his nonanswer.

“Bye,” he said, soaking up every little inch of her as she blew him a kiss and ended the call. Brayden slammed the phone on the bed, frustrated, his fangs extending.

What the fuck?

He sat up, touched his fangs, pricked his finger, cursed, then licked to seal the wound.

Now, this was new. Not the fangs. He’d had those since birth. His powerful and aggressive reaction to his female was new.

His?

Goddamn it.

He teleported into his bathroom because walking was too slow in a moment like this. He had to know.

Just fucking look.

Taking a deep breath, he peered into the mirror.

Yes? No? Maybe.

Heart pounding, he couldn’t tell if he was imagining a fine, thin line appearing around his irises, or if it was real.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He needed to figure this out fast. Walking around with shades on like U2’s Bono wasn’t going to cut it.

The knock on the door and the tiny body which slipped inside without his permission made his blood go cold.

Kate picked up on his reaction from a room away and didn’t try to pretend otherwise.

“I feel the same.”