Page 21 of Zomromcom

“I feel pretty toasty right now, even without a heated seat.” She wiggled her toes, which had prickled back to life around the time he’d located her clitoris. “Good work, vampire boy.”

His irritated scowl at the nickname wasn’t especially convincing, since he was kind of preening in self-satisfaction at the same time. “Don’t call me that.”

“Or…what?” she asked interestedly.

“Or…” He paused. “Or…”

Just as she’d thought. “Don’t bother with threats. I won’t believe them.”

His jaw twitched in frustrated exasperation, even as his fingertips lightly skimmed her hip and paused over a bruise there. He covered the darkening blotch with his palm, frowning. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

“Whatever.” She waved that off. “I know we have to get moving again so we can report the breach. But I need to be alert to watch your back, and I genuinely don’t think I can stay functional without at least a short nap. Just let me rest here for a few minutes, Max. Please.”

“But you’re still chilled, Edie.” His free hand chafed her upper arm, coaxing warmth back into her skin, and she wanted to purr and stretch beneath his touch like a contented cat.

“I’m warm enough for a quick snooze. And if I get too cold, I bet you could find some way to heat me up again.” She waggled her brows. “If you know what I mean.”

He simply looked at her.

She waggled some more. “And I think you do.”

As he fought a smile, his austere expression contorted slightly.

“Or…” Lifting her butt from the couch, she rubbed up against him, doing her best to ignore the damp chill of soaked denim.

“Since your erection is currently trying to bore a hole in my thigh, I could take you in hand and—wait. I keep forgetting to ask: How do vampires get erections, anyway? I would have thought there’d be blood flow issues. ”

His nascent smile withered into a scowl. “Vampires aren’t dead , human. Our blood flows perfectly well. Just because it’s cooler than yours and circulates more slowly doesn’t mean we can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” She raised a hand in surrender, then slid it slowly down his chest, all the way to the snap of those formfitting, waterlogged jeans. “Forget I asked. Anyway, since we’ve established that your erections are chilly and sluggish but serviceable, why don’t I—”

Her voice faltered as he let her feel the full weight of him, the strength, pressing her down into their makeshift bed and settling between her legs, cool and hard and ruthless.

He might be wet, but that was fine. So was she.

“ Ma bite is far more than serviceable . But I want more than a few stolen minutes, fucking you with one eye on the door.” His hips rolled, and her head fell back onto the cushion. “I’ll have you. And when I do, I intend to give you my full attention.”

She’d been wondering what drew him to her.

Why he’d been catering to all her needs with so little hesitation and so much determination.

Whether he considered her a mere toy, a temporary human plaything to sate his sexual hunger, or whether she’d somehow burrowed beneath his skin and slipped into his veins, arrowing toward his heart.

Because with every beat of her own heart, he was making a home for himself there, and it scared the shit out of her.

Now, though, she no longer cared why he wanted her or for how long. Her fear couldn’t touch her as long as he touched her.

“You’ll drown in me, my Edie.” His open mouth dragged along her flushed cheek, and his thigh pushed tight and hard between her legs. “You’ll come for me until you cry.”

He gripped her ass and rocked her against that swell of firm muscle, and her lips parted in a soundless moan.

If this was a fever dream, she didn’t want to get better.

“Soon.” With a sigh, he pushed up and off her, stood, and unzipped her duffel. “Not now.”

She lay there, bereft and breathless, her damp skin prickling in the sudden chill. “What the hells, Max?”

Efficiently, he dried her off again, maneuvered her upright, and helped her step into fresh panties and coveralls, then slip on clean socks. Once she’d recovered somewhat, she slapped his hands away and did the rest herself.

“You’re cranky when you’re sexually frustrated,” he noted, sounding amused.

She scowled at him, zipping the outfit up to her neck. “You’re cranky all the time, jerkface.”

“Fair enough.”

When he turned away from her to gather all the dry tablecloths, he was smiling, the withholding, contrary bastard. She fought her own smile and flopped onto the couch again, wondering if she could even rest anymore with a knot of need aching deep in her belly.

Together, they tucked the makeshift blankets around her, and she bundled up another one to serve as a pillow and stuck it beneath her head.

Without a hint of modesty, he stripped to the skin, removing all his own soaked clothing as she watched avidly. There wasn’t much of him she hadn’t studied before, what with his furry thong and shirtless videos. The parts she hadn’t seen, though…

Well. Maybe he wanted to use her as a convenient toy, but she’d been relying on her own toys for a while now, and he was definitely an upgrade. The luxury model.

She nestled her head more comfortably into the cloth pillow. “Below the neck, you’re smooth everywhere. Like a Ken doll.”

His expression of outrage was delicious.

He waved a hand, directing her attention to his semi-erect dick. “ Not like a Ken doll, clearly.”

“Hmmm.” No worries. Her attention hadn’t wavered from that area since he’d dropped his tablecloth. “Do you wax? Because the thought of ripping my pubic hair out by the roots…yeesh. No, thank you.”

“It’s a vampire thing,” he said shortly.

“Waxing?”

As he wrapped their umpteenth tablecloth around his hips, he pinned her with another flat stare. “Very funny.”

“Thank you. I thought so.” Feeling loose and remarkably happy for a woman who’d likely die in an attempt to save her neighbors from a zombie attack, she decided to push her luck. “Did you find any scissors in the stock room?”

The wariness with which he regarded her was a real compliment. “Why?”

“I can make your sarong into a thong if you have a pair of shears handy,” she offered sweetly. “Since that’s apparently a thing for you.”

He snorted again. “You just want to see my ass.”

“Guilty as charged.” She held out her wrists. “Cuff me, officer. Then cuddle me.”

“If I must,” he said with such a long-suffering sigh that she snickered.

For all his feigned reluctance, he willingly allowed himself to be tugged down and arranged to her liking.

Within a few seconds, his body was spooning hers along the length of the couch, one of his tablecloth-covered biceps now her pillow, his other arm slung over her hip.

A few twitches spread their makeshift blankets over both Max and herself, neck to feet.

She brought his palm to her lips and gave it a quick kiss. “Wake me up in thirty minutes, okay?”

His fingers curled into a loose fist as he exhaled. “I will.”

She closed her eyes. His hand settled on her hip once more, then gradually rose to spread over her chest, between her breasts.

And no matter how many sheep leapt an imaginary fence in her mind, no matter how deep and slow she made each of her breaths, her exhausted mind kept whirling, flashes of the last twenty-four hours playing against the backs of her eyelids like the world’s worst movie theater.

Also the world’s sexiest, depending on the flash in question.

After a few minutes, a discreet nudge of her ass against his lap told her he probably wasn’t asleep either. Which was a shame for him—although she’d offered relief; if he was suffering now, that wasn’t her fault—but welcome news for her.

“I think there’s a Williams Sonoma next door,” she whispered into the dark chill of an abandoned Pottery Barn employee breakroom. “Let’s make a quick detour there before we go.”

He responded immediately, his chin nudging the top of her head. “That’s what you were thinking so hard about? Kitchen supplies?”

“It’s one of the things I’m thinking about.

” One of the least upsetting too, which was why she was choosing to focus on it.

“I need a new set of stainless-steel measuring spoons. I hope looters aren’t into accurate determinations of volume.

” She traced over the bones of his wrist where it rested against the side of her breast. “What were you thinking about?”

He paused long enough that she didn’t think he’d answer, then slowly said, “I was wondering why you don’t have a soulmark. I thought I might see it when I undressed you.”

“Not every human gets one.” Only those with fated mates, and only if those fated mates were human as well. “I’ve always figured my missing mark was probably for the best. Destiny or no destiny, most potential partners would refuse to live in the Containment Zone with me.”

“Mmmm.” It was a noncommittal noise, full of thoughts unspoken.

He didn’t need to say them aloud. She already knew the obvious response to her statement: Couldn’t you move?

Why wouldn’t you simply leave the Zone and live somewhere else with your mate?

But the only answers she had to offer wouldn’t satisfy him, just as they hadn’t satisfied anyone but her over the years. Better to change the subject entirely.

Her thumb, which had been exploring the unfamiliar, jutting terrain of his knuckles, stilled. “Is there a vampire equivalent to human soulmarks?”

Because if so, maybe he was simply passing time with her. Amusing himself with a mere human while he waited for the arrival of his vampire mate: an elegant, haughty creature who would match his chilly demeanor and spurn canned taco products at all costs.

She pushed his palm harder against her chest, hoping the pressure would ease the ache there.

“No.” If he felt her abruptly relax against him, he didn’t let on.

“With few exceptions, we tend not to care deeply about anyone outside our own families. Not vampires or humans or any other species. That predilection only grows stronger over the centuries. At some point, many vampires without families dissociate entirely from the world around them, stop caring about anything at all, and simply…let go.”

Wow, that didn’t sound ominous. “What does let go mean?”

“Vampires who have detached that fully often harm either themselves or those around them.” His voice sounded both exhausted and clinical. “Detachment is the leading cause of death among vampires now that most hunters have hung up their stakes.”

“ Detachment .” She considered the word. How it sanitized what sounded like terrible isolation and either deep depression or psychopathy. “Is it sort of like…violent ennui?”

His breath ruffled the hair at the crown of her head. “Ennui’s what it was called in my youth, before American vampire psychologists began studying the phenomenon.”

“And your youth was…when?” A rumbling, openly fake snore came from behind her, and she lightly kicked his shin with her heel. “Fine. Tell me more about those few exceptions , then. What happens when vampires do care deeply about someone?”

His biceps tensed under her neck. “In defense of anyone we consider ours, we’ll unleash and withstand untold violence. We either protect those we love or die in the attempt.”

She winced.

Good thing she wasn’t one of his exceptions , then.

If she had her wish, no one would ever die for her safety again.

And the thought of someone other than her parents protecting her was so foreign, she couldn’t even imagine how it would feel.

With her locked shutters and martial arts classes and daily walks scouting the neighborhood, she protected herself and others, and she neither expected nor received their protection in return. She didn’t even want it.

Did she?

She swallowed over a painfully dry throat. “There’s nothing for vampires in between absolute disinterest and absolute commitment? You don’t ever just…make friends?”

“Sometimes.” His voice was flat. “It’s usually a mistake.”

Something fragile and green inside her shriveled at that, its reaching tendrils wilting.

Of course he didn’t want to be her friend. Of course he’d consider any emotional intimacy they might share during an emergency a mistake.

Still, she persevered. “What about…” Did she really want to know? “Have you ever had a long-term relationship with anyone?”

He took his time answering. “Once.”

“A human?” This wasn’t her business, but somehow she needed to know. “A Supernatural?”

“Human,” he said shortly. “Enhanced.”

“And?” she prompted, smothering an unexpected spark of jealousy.

“It was also a mistake.”

There was a terrible finality to that statement. It thudded between them like a stone barrier.

And yet…she’d been wrong, hadn’t she? Someone had been protecting her.

She might not have expected her neighbor’s vigilance, but he’d employed it on her behalf anyway.

Not only last night, but for at least the past year, during which time he’d intercepted two different intruders on her property.

Without her asking for help. Without her realizing he’d watched out for her and defended her safety. Without them so much as holding hands.

Whatever he felt for her, then, it wasn’t utter indifference, and it wasn’t purely sexual. Even if he considered intimacy with her—with anyone—a fool’s game.

As her thoughts began to drift, she hazily wondered what to make of that conclusion. Maybe he’d lied to her about the rarity of vampire friendship and attachment. Or maybe…there was always the flip side of that vampiric coin. On one face, absolute disinterest.

On the other: absolute, to-the-death commitment.

Could he possibly feel that strongly about her?

She didn’t see how or why he would, and she wasn’t certain she wanted him to. In her weakest moments, she might long for love, but she’d rather die herself than have anyone else risk their life for hers. Including Max.

Especially Max.

She took that thought with her into slumber. Into dreams. And finally, into nightmares.