Page 65 of Tempting the Dhampir

“Temper. Temper. I wouldn’t dream of challenging you,” she recites.

“Wait. Are you quoting The Lion King?” I shift my hand until I’m cupping her jaw.

“You started it.” She pouts, the smile creeping across her lips giving away her amusement.

“Tell me, are you a fan?” I trace my thumb back and forth across her cheekbone as I stare into her clever eyes.

She tracks her hand as it climbs up my black shirt and toys with the button on my sternum. “Yup, maybe we can watch it together sometime?” Her eyes flick up to mine, and apprehension and hope war with each other in their depths.

She’s making plans for the future. It’s not yet the level I had wished for, but these baby steps can lead to bigger ones.

“I’d love that. It’s been years since I’ve seen it. We had limited technology available at boarding school. We ended up watching a lot of nineties movies.”

“I can’t imagine all the males getting into those types of movies. Some seemed so… stoic.”

“It was just the environment and the stress of the situation on the island. You’d be surprised by them if you get to know them. They’re great males.” I defend my friends, oddly dejected that she got that impression of them.

Maybe if things work out, we can travel around the world, and she can meet them in their home environments. I think she’d really like them. I wonder if she’s ever been to Paris. Or Seoul.

“I’m sorry, you’re absolutely right. I think all of us were a bit out of sorts,” she concedes, reaching her hand up to give mine a squeeze.

“I know we have some more questions to ask, but can I show you something?”

“Does it have anything to do with the box you’ve been carrying around?”

“It might,” I hedge.

She bounces on the balls of her feet a little as she says, “I’m trying to play it real cool, but my curiosity is scratching at my skin. At least you have this amazing view to distract me with.” She laughs.

“It’ll be sunset soon, and then you’ll be thoroughly distracted,” I promise.

“I can’t wait. But first, tell me about this box.”

Chapter thirty-one

Sadie

Everett takes my hand and leads me through the luxurious bathroom to the walk-in closet. The walk-in closet that’s the size of my apartment’s whole living room.

I gawk at him. “This is huge. Why is it empty? Where are your clothes?”

“I use the closet on the other side of the room. This one I’ve been saving for my wife.”

“Wife?” I blurt out.

“I mean, partner?” He sounds unsure. “Spouse? Fiancée? Girlfriend? Lover? Whatever she would prefer to be called.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “But before you overthink that, I want you to have something.”

He moves to the center of the room and pushes the box on the island toward me.

It’s a plain white box with no markings, and my heart starts racing in anticipation. I love surprises and gifts.

Trying to draw the moment out, I slowly lift the lid to reveal a familiar dust bag.

My brows rise and my eyes go round as my expectation grows, and my heart starts pumping blood through my body at an increasingly rapid rate. I open the bag and reach in without looking, hands wrapping around rough texture and down to a sharp point. I swallow hard as my hands trace a shape I recognize from countless hours of staring at on a screen. I pull one out, then the other.

Then, my heart just about stops.

My eyes flood with tears as I stare at the most elegant pair of shoes I’ve ever seen.

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