Page 36 of An Acquired Taste

“Can’t you just give me some of your blood?” I ask, remembering the way he closed my puncture marks after he bit me.

He shakes his head. “You’d have to ingest it for an injury like this, and I’d rather avoid that,” he says. “If this were a serious injury, it’d be one thing, but for a mild sprain…”

I frown. “What’s wrong with ingesting it?”

“It can be addictive, for one,” he says. “And it also creates a temporary bond.” When I give him a quizzical look, he continues, “It’s akin to the bond between a fledgling vampire and their sire. I’d be able to sense your location and emotions, and influence you to an extent.”

“Oh.” The thought is enough to make me blush. Definitely best to avoid that so I won’t pester him with all of my wild mood swings and unsavory thoughts. “Well, yes, okay, let’s not do that. It’s not bad, anyway. I’ll be fine. I’m sure a doctor isn’t necessary, either.”

He slowly raises his eyes to meet mine. “I say it is.”

The intensity in his gaze makes heat flood my face. Now that my mind is finally clearing up, the reality of what happened today sinks in.

“You came looking for me,” I whisper.

“I wasn’t sure what to think when I realized you weren’t in your room.” He lifts my other sneaker into his lap and begins to attend to those laces as well. “And when I asked around, I heard that you had missed dinner.” He removes the shoe, peels off the sock, sets my foot beside the other while I sit still. “I wondered if perhaps you had… left. But then I realized Barnabas was missing.”

“I just wanted to take him on a walk,” I say, sheepish.

“In the rain.” His lips purse. “Of all the imbecilic—”

“It wasn’t raining when I left!”

He sighs. It’s especially dramatic because I know the man doesn’t even need to breathe. He reaches up to touch my ankle, just below where my jeans are plastered to my skin. “Can you remove these yourself?”

“I could.” A beat. “But you’re doing such a good job of it.”

He blinks, his eyes shifting up to meet mine. When they do, I crack a small smile.

Something almost like relief floods his expression. “You certainly seem to be feeling better,” he says. He shifts forward, his hand sliding over my jeans from my ankle to my knee, to the inside of my thigh. I suck in a sharp breath, but he’s all businesslike as his hands move to the button of my jeans and my zipper. Almost like he’s… teasing me?

Then he tugs my jeans down my legs, and any hint of sexiness is quickly lost as my wet pants stick to my equally wet skin. I try to wriggle to help him out, which only makes it feel more ridiculous. He sends me tumbling on my ass with one firm yank, and I collapse into helpless giggles as he finally pulls the pants free.

“My God,” he mutters dourly, which only makes me laugh more. I look up at him from where I’m sprawled on the rug before the fire, wrapped in a blanket with my hair still soaked and wild, and catch a glimmer of what I dare say is amusement in his dark eyes. He sets my pile of wet clothes and shoes aside and tugs me up so I’m sitting on his lap in front of the fireplace. He wraps his arms around my almost-naked but blanket-cocooned body.

I wish I had a reason to get him under the blanket with me, but unfortunately, I can’t use the excuse of body heat when he’s a vampire. Instead, I just rest my face in the crook of his neck and breathe in the smell of him.

Whenever he’s out of sight—which is most of the time—it’s easy to convince myself that Sebastian hates me, that he’s using me for my blood or taking care of me out of pity. That he’s some callous asshole. But when he’s here, holding me so tenderly like this, I feeldangerouslyfond of this infuriating man.

“You’re lucky you weren’t hurt worse,” he murmurs into my damp curls. I think I feel the faintest brush of his lips against my hair, but it could be my imagination.

“How long were you out searching in the rain?” I ask.

“Not long, thankfully,” he says. “I thought that if you were with Barnabas, he would lead you to…” A pause, a swallow. “On the path of our weekly walk.”

To the grave, I realize, flashing back to that lonely headstone beneath the willow trees.Eternally beloved. The fresh roses. He walks there every week? I almost ask about it, abouther, but I stop myself. As curious as I am, I can’t bring myself to ruin this rare moment alone with Sebastian.

Plus, his arms are so strong around me, and the fire is so lovely and warm. Slowly, my frozen skin and chilled bones thaw. As the cold seeps out, exhaustion creeps in. Before I know it, my head is drooping onto Sebastian’s shoulder, and my eyes are drifting shut.

The last thought that occurs to me, before I fall asleep, is that I never asked Sebastian why he was looking for me in my room in the first place.

Chapter Nineteen

Iwake in my own bed to the smell of coffee. A breakfast tray rests on my nightstand. I must have slept through Ellen delivering it, though thankfully the coffee is still warm. I drink a third of it in one big gulp, and then nearly choke on it in surprise when I realize there’s a sealed letter underneath.

Who would send me a letter? Benjamin, maybe. As soon as I think of him, I feel a pang of guilt for not keeping in touch with him more. But as I tear the envelope open, I read the short message in seconds and realize it’s not from Benjamin at all.

“Hewoulddeliver a letter in his own house,” I mutter, but I can’t stop myself from grinning as I scan the short message again.

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