Page 66 of Even Vampires Bleed
I’d like to say that the thought of him needing to go away didn’t cross my mind while flying back to Notre Dame, but I’m not that good of a person.
Sometimes I hate that he doesn’t know what he took from me when his former self disappeared, but I can’t blame him either, because like I said… He doesn’t know.
When we finally arrive at Notre Dame and drop to theparvisnaked, I try not to look at Léandre. I try not to look at how his back seems to have developed since the last time my nails grazed it. I try not to look at how his pecs are so much more defined and how his abs now look like a perfect chocolate tab. I try not to look at his butt when he turns, either.
Yeah, I try to look for our new butterfly friend instead.
But you guessed it. I tried. But I failed. I never said I tried very hard.
I still need to stop staring or he’s going to get the wrong idea.
And we don’t want that.
32
Léandre
It took me to be plastered against a wall by a bat to realize why Cassiopé seemed so familiar.
I’ve spent nearly a week in close quarters with her, but it didn’t hit me at any point.
Maybe because she did everything in her power to stay as far away as she could from me, hiding behind the bulk of the bear-shifter.
But when I came to save her, there was no one to hide behind anymore and the smell of the butterfly-shifter might have mingled with hers, but she couldn’t hide it anymore.
Passion fruits and cinnamon.
The smell from my pillows is hers
The one that has slowly been driving me mad for over two weeks now is Cassiopé.
And I’m only now making the connection.
No wonder she hates me.
She was the last person I slept with in my other life.
And I don’t remember it.
To be honest, I could have slept with the whole world in my first life, and I wouldn’t know, so it’s not against her, but it’s got to sting.
Because that gives me more perspectives. It also reminds me—and explains why at the same time—that she was getting out of my bathroom when I saw her for the first time.
Well, it sounds like she might have liked who I was, but isn’t so fond of the new me though.
I catch her eyes wandering.
She doesn’t seem to mind what I did with my body, though.
I don’t look at her, but slowly I flex my muscles for her to appreciate some more.
Cocky?
Yes, totally. But I worked for those, so it feels good to see they don’t go unappreciated.
I almost laugh at my own joke but stop myself from looking like an ass, because surely that’s what I’m going to look like if she realizes I’ve been flexing for her since she started looking at me.
Instead, I look around.
