Page 75 of Taming His Vampire Mate

He took another sip, his expression wary. “Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t give a shit, even though it’s abundantly fucking obvious you do.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Jeremy, don’t do this.”

I gulped down half my drink. “Fine. I won’t push. But, for the record, I am curious. And if you want to tell me in a week, or a month, or a year, I’ll be ready to hear it.”

Thierry stared, going even paler.

“Just like that?” His tone said he didn’t believe it. That I’d really drop it just because he asked?

“You set a boundary. This is me respecting it. Just like I’ve done every time since we met. And since we can’t talk about this—or about us being mated, or the dreams, or Godric, who you keep trying not to think about, or—”

“And he comes out swinging,” Thierry chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Here I was, waiting for you to take any sort of opening. It’s not always nice to be right.”

“No!” I snapped, glaring, outrage bubbling up. I set my drink down. At the flicker of indignation I felt from him at my lack of civility, I rolled my eyes and slid a coaster under the glass. “Look, I get that you’ve got secrets—”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“—And that you have this idea of who I’m supposed to be. And that’s okay. Because you’ll see you’re wrong soon enough. But I’m not an asshole one hundred percent of the time, no matter how much you want me to act like one.”

“Fine, then. Explain. Enlighten. Elucidate.” His voice went cold, defenses up. “What the hell are you doing right this very moment?”

“Look, I don’t want to be the guy you’re afraid of. I want to be the guy you can trust. And I know that has to be on your terms, not mine.”

The hand holding his drink trembled; he looked away sharply, like I’d struck him. Which made no sense. Anxiety wove through him.

Through the bond, I heard him think I was more dangerous than he’d imagined. That I could hear every thought. Sooner or later, each of his secrets would end up at my feet, ready to be used against him the moment I pushed. Unless he learned to block me out. Or until I was gone.

I didn’t point out the obvious—that Icouldhave pushed. That I could’ve pulled every answer I wanted from him. But I hadn’t. Not once.

Instead, I said, “Thierry, I want you to know I don’t listen. It happens sometimes, but I don’t try to. You know that, right? That has to count for something.”

“What do you want me to do?” he demanded, glaring again—but his hand still shook. “Do you want a prize for not rooting around in my head? Yet.”

“No. I want you to tell me why you stayed.”

His glare faltered. “What?”

“You came over last night, after what we saw in the dreamscape—” my voice hitched at the memory “—I didn’t ask you to, but you did. You sorted me out, put me back to bed, and stayed until I woke up. Why?”

All his walls slammed back down. Suddenly I couldn’t read him. Interesting. So the bond had limits. Apparently,wantingto block each other out was enough.

“It’s because you can’t stand the idea of me in pain, isn’t it?”

When his defiant gaze met mine, I held it, banishing any trace of anger I felt. It didn’t feel right to make myself vulnerable to anyone—it never had—but I knew he needed me to.

“Because that’s how I feel too,” I said. “I can’t stand the idea of you in pain. I know you’re suffering—and have been for a long fucking time—and I hate it. I don’t ever want to be the cause of it.”

“We’ve known each other five minutes.”

“Wolves bring a U-haul on the second date. Besides, I’ve seen enough to know you’re actually a pretty damn good person.”

I might’ve expected anything—except what happened next. Thierry’s defiant expression crumbled. His eyes went glassy. He looked away sharply, hand shaking so badly he sloshed expensive scotch over his fingers. He set the glass down with a sharp clack.

I reached over, took it, and slid a coaster under it for him—mostly to give him a moment of silence.

“Jeremy, I hate you so much,” he said thickly, all the ice gone from his voice.