Page 5 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

I almost feel bad for them. Especially when he returns to me, pulls off his apron, and says loud enough for all to hear, “I’ve fulfilled my duties as a good son, and now I’m all yours.”

One of the customers is so busy watching him, she runs her cart into a stand of gift cards.

Startled by the noise, Noah glances over, but she’s already hurrying off, pretending she didn’t just collide with the display while drooling over the grocers’ handsome son.

Yep, I need to get Noah out of here.

I loop my arm through his just because I can, and we leave the store, stepping into the cooling mountain air. Once we’re outside, I say, “Next time we meet, remind me to wait in the car.”

He flashes me a smug look as he opens the passenger side door of his SUV for me. “You don’t like my fan club?”

“Youdidnotice them.”

He chuckles as he walks to his side and slides into the seat.

“But no, that’s not the reason,” I say. “I just can’t pass through the bakery again.”

Noah grimaces as he starts the engine. “It’s rough, isn’t it?”

“Does it get easier?” I ask, acknowledging that I sound a little desperate.

“Yeah, mostly. Occasionally, a craving will hit you, but the longer you abstain, the weaker they become.”

Unlike other things, which are far more difficult the longer you abstain. I let my eyes stray to Noah’s neck, and my gums tingle where my fangs press into them.

“I can feel you ogling me,” he says.

“Maybe I’m just hungry.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Sure.”

We both know that my wanting to bite Noah has nothing to do with blood. A shiver runs down my spine, and I rip my eyes forward. I thought these weird urges to nibble on his neck would pass after I became a final-stage vampire, but no. They’re still here.

Which is fine.

I’m fine.

You see, Noah and I have already had this discussion, and we’re waiting. For biting. For intimacy. For all that.

Just like I said I wanted.

But that was then, and this is now, and between craving donuts, craving sunshine, and craving Noah, I’m about to lose my mind.

Be strong.

“You never said where you want to eat,” Noah reminds me, wisely directing the subject back to a safe place.

I’m about to answer when Noah’s phone rings.

“It’s Cassian,” he says and then hits the accept button on the vehicle’s dashboard screen. “Why are you calling me?”

“Sophia’s been kidnapped,” the vampire says through the car’s speakers, forgoing a greeting.

Noah sits a little straighter. “What?”

“I just got a call from an unknown number. They said they had her, and then they put her on the phone.”

The two-hundred-year-old vampire is trying to act unruffled, but he’s failing. Cassian’s tight voice and clipped words betray just howruffledhe is.

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