Page 29

We made our way back down the tunnel towards my apartment. The bookcase was still open. I trotted in and collapsed on the carpet, exhausted. Magic filled the room, and I was back in my human skin. Clive stepped in and closed the bookcase.

I squinted one eye open and studied him. “Are you hurt?”

Crouching, Clive ran a fingertip over my shoulder. A scar ran across my chest and over that shoulder. Instead of avoiding it, his finger brushed right over the top, as though it didn’t matter. “Of course not. My only concern was you. You may be fierce, Sam, but you are still far more breakable than I am.”

Feeling conspicuously naked, I scrambled up off the floor and rushed to the bathroom. “Be right back.” I took a shower and then slathered on nice-smelling lotion. While brushing out tangles in my hair, I accidentally caught sight of myself in the mirror. My green eyes were too large. They appeared haunted in the harsh light. I refused to look below my neck, refused to let the scars cow me tonight. My traitorous gaze went unerringly to the scar on my lower lip. I’d bitten myself the night of the attack. Unrelenting pain had caused me to bite through my own lip. The scar was faint, but I knew it was there.

I’d forgotten to bring in clothes with me, damn it. Wrapping the towel around myself, I shook off rising nerves. I’d just taken down wolves. I could walk ten feet across a room.

The quiet tap at the door made me jump. Tugging on the towel to make it cover more, I opened the door. Clive handed me an overnight case. It was black with an image of lush flowers standing out against the dark fabric.

“I wanted you to have a proper overnight bag. There are a few things inside I thought you might like here.”

“Clive.”

“Sam.”

“Didn’t we discuss you buying me things?” I loved the bag. I didn’t want to give it back, but I felt weird about the gifts. I’d been on the struggling side of barely making it before San Francisco and The Slaughtered Lamb. I was now on the I-can-eat-and-cover-emergency-expenses side of making it, which eased the tightness in my shoulders, but gifts still made me uncomfortable. Although, if I was being honest with myself, this was the longest I’d ever lived in one place and that was due to Clive’s original gift.

“I believe we did, and we decided that it was acceptable as it brought me joy.” The grin on his face did funny, jumpy things to my stomach.

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You were distracted, so you may have missed a few key points, but you definitely agreed to gifts.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and nudged me out of the way, while pulling the door closed.

“You were pulling a vampy mind trick on me, weren’t you?”

He sighed. “That word.”

“Trick?” I grinned, as the door was shut in my face.

I hugged the beautiful bag to my chest, before placing it on the counter and opening it. More silk jammies, though this time they were lilac. Underneath, there were more panties and bras. I tossed the towel over the bar to dry and slipped on the panties and pajamas. I couldn’t help but run my hand up my arm, enjoying the softness.

I found two more sweaters, three long-sleeve tops in a supple knit that drew my fingers, as well. Beneath those items, two more pairs of jeans and a pair of black trousers. There was something hard beneath the pants. I dug down and yanked it up. A black ankle boot. He’d given me a pair of shoes to wear with the black pants, since the only footwear I owned was running shoes. The man didn’t miss a trick.

Smiling to myself, I brushed my teeth, gave my hair one last pass, and checked out my reflection. My eyes were less haunted, and my scars were covered. He’d seen it all and hadn’t shied away from me. I blew out a quick breath and opened the door.

Clive was sitting on the bed. When I appeared, he rose. “You look beautiful. That color is lovely on you.”

“Thanks.”

“My turn,” he said, slipping past me into the bathroom, a black leather overnight case in his hand.

I had just enough time to freak out and then calm down before the water turned off.

When the door opened, he came to me, slipping a hand down my arm before holding my hand. “May I stay?”

Nodding, I leaned into him. Strong arms crushed me. His mouth took mine with a ferocity I met and returned. I waited for the panic to set in, for the sweating and nausea to overtake me. They didn’t. It was just the two of us. My fear—a usual third wheel—had decided to sit this one out.

Clive made a purring sound in the back of his throat. It should have made me laugh, but I felt an accompanying purr in my chest. I hadn’t realized he’d been dancing me across the floor, until I felt the bed at the back of my knees. “Just full of vampy moves, aren’t you?”

He picked me up and threw me across the bed. “That word.” He sounded disgusted, but he couldn’t hide his grin.

I giggled uncontrollably, propping myself up on my elbows so I could watch what he did next. “Wait a minute. Are you wearing jeans? And how am I just noticing this?”

Knee on the bed, he instead straightened, posing. “Do you like them? I changed after the shower. They’re my first pair.”

Oh my God, how cute was he? “How is this your first pair? Aren’t you older than dir—”

“You? Yes, I am.” He shrugged. “Vampires are formal creatures. We don’t do blue jeans.”

“You do.”

“I do now.”

He unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it free from his jeans, before crawling up on the bed. He caged me in without touching, arms braced on the mattress, body held above. And then he slowly lowered his head and kissed me and kissed me.

I could do this. I ran my hands over his chest, down his abdomen. The purring sounded in his throat again, and I smiled against his lips. I broke for air and said, “I have an idea.”

With a gleam in his eye, he flopped down next to me. “Do tell.”

“I’ve been thinking. Maybe, if you’d be willing, you can lie down and not move. Let me be the one who touches…” I didn’t know how to explain it.

“Yes. I like this idea. Consider me your boy-toy. We do whatever you want and nothing more.”

My stomach fluttered at the thought. “Really? Anything I want?”

“Anything at all.” He tore off his shirt. “Within reason. Don’t set me on fire or stake me through the heart. Omitting that, I’m all yours.”

I sat cross-legged and studied the man before me, from his heart-stopping face, down his strong, muscular body, to his— “You have nice feet.”

He looked down, nodding. “Yes, I’ve always thought so.”

I giggled and he glowed, watching me. I could do this. I reached a trembling hand and touched soft denim, his leg beneath. The fingers of my other hand ran down his stomach, tracing the lines of his abdominals. I heard a harsh intake of breath, but he didn’t move. I could see him straining at his button fly, but still he didn’t move.

Feeling more confident, I leaned forward and placed a kiss in the dip at the base of his pecs. I heard a slow exhale. I could do this. I swung a leg over and sat on his thighs. I waited for anxiety’s claws to rip holes in my lungs, but she was staying on the sidelines. At a guess, I’d say she was in the bar with a bottle of tequila.

The scent of his arousal filled my head, making me want things I never thought I would. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I tipped forward, dropping soft kisses up his stomach, over his chest, at the notch in his collar bone. I ran my hands over his broad shoulders. Clive watched me, his heart in his eyes, as I made my way past the fear to find him.

My gaze dropped to his jeans. I could do this. Fearsome, not fearful. I reached for his waistband, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Thank God,” he said in a low, restrained voice.

I snorted a laugh, unsure but willing. I popped the button fly. His erection pushed at the black, silk boxers. With trembling, tentative fingers, I brushed down his length. His body jolted, but he restrained himself, hands fisted at his side.

I stepped off the bed and grabbed the legs of his jeans, pulling them off easily. He watched me, his eyes heated.

I touched the waistband of his boxers and then hesitated.

“Leave them on for now.”

I nodded, more comfortable with that. I climbed back on the bed and straddled him. I let my fingers play across his stomach and chest, before leaning down to kiss him.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered.

I nodded. My heart was beating so fast, I was afraid I was going to stroke out.

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” I breathed.

He sat up and cupped my face in his hands, kissing me softly, reverently. His fingers slid down my neck and over my shoulders, pulling me close, as his kisses meandered over my cheek and along my jaw. When the tips of his fangs grazed my throat, I shivered in anticipation.

His hands found my breasts as his kisses drove me insane. I reached for the collar button of my pajama top, wanting to feel his hands on me, needing his skin on mine.

“Let me this time,” he said, kissing my body, scars and all, as he exposed it. A moment later, my top was dropped by the side of the bed. He leaned back, his hands skating over my skin, his eyes feasting on my body. “Exquisite.”

It should have embarrassed me, would have if I hadn’t heard the absolute truth in his words. His hands settled on my hips, his thumbs sliding back and forth over my stomach and under the pajama waistband. In his gaze, I was seen. I was accepted. More, I was treasured.

“Clive?”

“Hmm?” His gaze traveled up and met mine.

“Will you make love to me?” I could do this.

Before my next breath, he had our positions reversed, most of his weight on one side, his head propped in his hand, his other hand resting between my breasts. “We will if that’s truly what you want, but there’s no hurry. No finish line, remember. We can touch and kiss until we’ve had our fill, and then we can sleep, wrapped in each other.” He rolled my necklace back and forth. “That sounds perfect.”

I sighed. “It does.” I ran my hand through his thick hair, over his brow, down his nose. My fingertips and brain cataloging and memorizing. I’d felt the change and instinctively knew what it meant. I needed to store as many sense memories as possible. Wolves mated for life. Clive was mine. I hadn’t accepted it when I’d first felt my heart open to make a place for him. He wasn’t a wolf. I wanted nothing to do with wolves ever again, so I’d assumed I’d be forever alone. Maybe, when I was feeling stronger, decades in the future, I’d eventually take lovers, but there’d be no mate because there’d be no wolf.

Vampires didn’t mate for life, like werewolves. He’d move on, but I never would. And so, I needed to save as much of him as I could for the long life I’d live after he’d left.