Page 66 of By the Pint

But it had been three days, and he’d not explicitly told me to put my cock inside him. Instead, we worked on his blocking techniques, I quilted, and we chatted, about absolutely everything. We chatted like two people who hadn’t seen into each other’s minds. Like there was everything to discover.

Because, it turned out, it didn’t matter how much of someone’s thoughts you thought you knew, there would always be more to learn.

We sat atop the volcano again. This time it was raining. Icy cold early February sheets hammered on all four sides around us. I used my telekinesis to create a shelter. Casey, for once, wore a sensible wool coat over his suit. He looked fucking incredible. Like a runway model or a classic actor from a black and white movie where the main character steps off a steam train onto a platform looking like a super snack.

“How are you doing that?” He gazed up at the rain making a square shape above our heads in obvious awe. It made my chest feel funny and squeezed. “How exactly does your telekinesis work?”

“Most people think telekinesis is moving objects with your mind, which, okay, it is, but it’s more like moving the air around the objects. You know?”

He laughed. “Not really. It’s odd though, how you can do it, and Killian can’t.” The mention of my ex-friend’s name made irritation bubble in my gut.

“It’s just always something I’ve been able to do. I’m not sure how many of my sire’s children could do it. Not sure how readily it passes from one vampire to another.”

“It’s impressive, though,” he said. “Keeping us dry whilst you ‘sew’ your blanket. Like, how do you keep your mind focused enough to stop the rain and sew, and barricade your thoughts from me, and break into mine?”

“Eh …” I shrugged. Never thought about it before. At home, I could work on six quilts at once. I didn’t like to do any more than that because my ‘sewing’ got sloppy. “Six hundred years of practice, I guess.”

“Mmhmm,” he said. He understood the first three centuries of my un-life were a sore spot, and he avoided talkingabout them. Casey opened his mouth to say something, but evidently decided against prodding me and snapped it shut with a clack.

The fact that I couldn’t hear his thoughts was thrilling. It sent little bursts of electricity across my body, like tiny bolts of lightning. He could have been thinking anything. That he found me utterly repulsive, that he wanted me to fuck off into the forests and never return, or maybe even plotting my murder. He wasn’t though. I knew what he was thinking, and not because I could see his thoughts, but because I was beginning to know him.

And really, what did it matter if he learned things about me? Things I’d been hiding from him. Mostly, for his own protection, but also because besides Mal and Goldie, I’d never been truly honest with anyone about my past. Casey would become a vampire. Killian would turn him. And he would no longer remember me. But he would also no longer remember anything I had said to him.

“It’s okay.” I put a hand on his knee. He jolted a little at the contact. “You can ask me about that time. My past. Ask me whatever you want? I’ll answer all—most of your questions. It’s not like you will remember my answers anyway,” I added to his confused expression.

“Fuck, okay. I have so many questions.”

“Hit me.”

Casey turned to me. His gaze raked over my face, my hair, my deliberately-undone-to-tempt-him collar. A smile ticked the corner of his mouth, and he blew out a breath that warmed the space between us. It seeped into my skin through my pores, right into my chest.

“What’s your beef with Killian?”

I laughed. “Wow, straight in there.”

His face fell. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Nodid turning hurt?Nodo you remember anything from when you were turned?”I teased.

“I’ve done my research. I know the answer to both questions already. A fuck ton and probably not. Don’t feel you have to tell me anything about Killian— Dammit, I shouldn’t have asked. I wish I could scoop the question back into my mouth.”

I realised my hand was still on his knee. I gave it a squeeze and removed it. “It’s fine. I said ask anything. I meant it. Why don’t you tell me what it’s been like working for Killian all this time, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“But, you’ve seen inside my mind. You know what it was like working with Killian.”

I didn’t miss the subtle change in preposition. “Humour me.”

“Fine,” he said, blowing out another breath, but his smile belied his reluctance. “Killian is a randy teenager. Basically. He’s, I dunno, like six-hundred-and-twenty-years old, same as you I guess, or roughly, but he behaves like the spoilt son of a billionaire. He’s had no one to answer to for a good few centuries.”

“Until you came along,” I offered.

Casey laughed, warm and smooth, and so sexy. “Until I came along. He came to one of my games. About fifteen years ago. I was twenty-five. You can imagine how cute I was.”

“I am.” I reached across and took Casey’s hand in mine, rubbing my thumb on his knuckles, trying to be subtle about it. “Go on.”

He glanced at our interconnected hands and smiled. “Of course, I didn’t know he was telepathic until a couple of years later. But he started coming to all my home games at Bordalis. Which was weird because you almost never see vampires at wingball games.”

That made sense. Vampires were banned from playing competitive sports because of their unfair natural advantages. But even if we weren’t, most vampires developed a marrow-deep repulsion for any form of exercise regardless. Again, sedentary beings were sedentary. Even watching others exert themselves made us sleepy.

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