Page 36 of The Vampire Kingpin

“Who says I’m hiding from anyone?”

Spider sighed. “Lark…”

I grimaced. “Sorry.”

He waited, and somehow, I found myself telling him more. He needed to know. In case Jared Darkman found me. Or if I suddenly disappeared…

“Fine. You’re right. I am hiding from someone—and that’s all I’m going to say.”

“Oh, baby.” He gathered me in his arms.

I snuggled into what was rapidly becoming my safe place, my nose in the spot between his neck and shoulder.

A big, powerful hand stroked my back. “You know I’m on your side, right? Somebody tries to fuck with you, they’re gonna have to go through me first.”

“Sure.”

I didn’t believe him, but I appreciated that he’d said it. But when Jared Darkman finally caught up to me, the Vegas Syndicate would bring a world of pain down on Spider if he tried to help me.

He shook my shoulder. “Dammit, Lark. I mean it.”

I rubbed my cheek against his dark stubble, taking his scent onto my skin like a cat. Something to remember in the years to come when this month with him was in the rearview mirror. “Drop it. Please?”

His chest heaved but he fell silent.

I rolled my lips into my mouth. Time to lighten things up.

Pulling out of his arms, I rolled onto my side, head on my palm. “Now I’ve got a question for you.”

“Anything,” he answered.

“What's green, fuzzy, and would hurt if it fell on you out of a tree?”

His thick brows drew together in confusion. “I dunno. What?”

I grinned, even though it wasn’t that funny and I felt anything but happy. “A pool table.”

He blinked, then gave a reluctant smile. “Hah. Now I have a question for you—three questions, actually.”

I eyed him warily. “Yeah?”

“I wanna know three things about you. Not something that’s a secret,” he added when I started to shake my head. “Start with your favorite dessert.”

“Oh.” I relaxed. “Then I’m gonna go with a classic—chocolate chip cookies. Right after they come out of the oven, all warm and gooey.”

His mouth curved. “That was my go-to when I was a little dude. My mama made the best cookies in Brooklyn.”

“She’s gone now?”

“Yeah, she passed a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “She wasn’t happy when I was turned, especially because I did it partly for her—so I could buy her a nice house, send her on a trip to Hawaii. She was a teacher, but she got hurt and had to go out on disability, and she had no savings. And she always wanted to see Hawaii.”

“Did she go?”

“Yep.” His expression warmed, his love for his mom clear. “Took me a couple of years to get the cash together, and then another year to convince her to take it. But she did.”