Page 107 of Vampire so Virtuous

Cally glared at him. “You expect me to agree to this, just so others don’t have to go through what you’ve already put me through?”

He shrugged, saying nothing.

“Fine,” she spat, holding out her wrist. “Here. And fuck you, Antoine.”

He didn’t move. “I don’t feed from a wrist.”

“Don’t, or can’t?” Her arm remained stiff, the motion defiant even as her skin tingled at the thought of him touching her.

He shook his head. “Merde, in almost three hundred years—”

“—You’ve been alive three hundred years?” She stared at him in disbelief, her arm falling slightly.

He inclined his head. “Rounding up a little.”

“So the French isn’t a Canadian thing.”

“I told you I was French.” He almost sounded offended. “I am originally from a town called Brest, in Brittany. It has been a long time since I was last there.”

Cally saw the distant look in his eyes, a flickering hint of the loneliness of his life. But what did it matter that a monster was lonely? Did he not deserve to be? No, that was unconvincing; it failed even to persuade her. Everyone deserved someone, even if they were a coffin enthusiast.

Dangerous ground, Cally. He’s a monster, and don’t forget it.

She sighed. “You can feed from me, if you must, but not from my neck.”Not after how it felt last time.

His lips twitched. “There’s a lovely artery in your inner thigh.”

“Fuck, no.”Is he serious?She proffered her arm once more. “Wrist, or nothing.”

She couldn’t track his movement; one second, he was opposite her, standing casually with one hand loosely tucked in his pocket, the other holding the envelope, that smug little smirk playing on his lips. The next, he was behind her, cradling her against him, his hand tightening around her throat as he forced her neck back, pinning her in place. Somehow, the letterfrom the Curia was on the coffee table.

“Why do you think I would let you dictate to me?” his lips brushed her ear. “Especially when I know what it is you really want.”

“Please don’t.” She was helpless in his grip, all her strength and speed meaningless. It was futile to fight, and she hated how weak it made her feel.

He brushed his lips against her neck. “You shouldn’t say such things to me.” His voice was a breath across her skin. “It calls to the predator in me.”

“I’m no one’s prey.”

“Why so sure,ma chérie?”

She felt the sting of his fangs at her neck, her body tensing reflexively beneath his bite. She couldn’t help the gasp of pain, or the way it turned into a moan as soon as he drew the first mouthful of her blood. Why did it feel so good? Why did it pull at her, in places it had no business pulling at?

“Stop…” The word barely escaped her lips, a whisper he ignored. She felt him pull again and again, her blood rushing through her body, and the light-headed sensation flooding her mind. Unable to help herself, she leaned against him, his body firm against her back, and lost herself to the pleasure he created—the pleasure she had so desperately wanted to avoid.

All too soon, he stopped. His tongue licked across her neck, and she knew there’d be no wound—just a trace, and even that would fade within a day or two. Faster than before, thanks to the mark. She’d still need to skip another session with Joon, and pretend she wasn’t the plaything of a vampire. The dizziness faded swiftly too, fast enough for her to push away from him. He didn’t try to restrain her.

“I told you to stop.” She wheeled to face him, backing away. The distance between them was an illusion of safety; to him, it was no gap at all. She clutched her neck in reflex, but the pain had faded. It only tingled, and not in a bad way.

Unbothered, he slipped his fingers into the pockets of his jeans with his usual infuriating grace and smugness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“That’s not the point, you bastard, and you know it.”

“So you did enjoy it.” His smirk was intolerable.

She took a deep breath and let it out, but it didn’t help. “Do you know what rape is, Antoine? Do you know what makes you a monster?”

“Rape? How does feeding qualify as ‘rape’?” His expression sobered, and she took some vindictive pleasure in that. Then he dropped his chin to his chest, staring down at the carpet. “My only choice is to survive”—he gave a bitter laugh—“or go sunbathing, as you so delicately suggested last time. I choose, rightly or wrongly, to survive. Which means I need blood.”He looked up at her. “I take comfort in knowing that it brings my prey some pleasure. Many vampires kill. I don’t. Many vampires feed off pain and suffering. At least I don’t have to do that. But it’s not rape.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t kill, I don’t feed off those with families, and I don’t feed on someone more than once.”