Page 90 of Even Vampires Bleed
It’s not like it’s been obeying me very much lately.
I’ve woken up with the worst hard on every single day since we arrived.
It wasn’t like this when I was in Notre Dame.
Liar.
It was like this the first few days.
And then my pillows stopped smelling like her, and my sex drive died down a bit.
It sounds like I have an addiction.
I have an addiction to the sweet smell of Cassiopé.
And my body craves her as much as she dislikes me—see what I did? I’m not saying “hates” anymore.
It might not help that I have barely slept since we arrived.
Why? Because there’s only one bed.
One freaking bed.
I read books. I read romance books.
And I’m not about to turn that escape trip to save my brain into a freakish one bed trope that’s probably going to fry my brain.
So, I’ve been sleeping on the couch.
And I can tell you that fox didn’t plan this like that, because that couch isn’t made to sleep on.
I don’t know if I’m too tall for it or if the fox was just tiny, but my feet poke out at the end, and my head bends because of the armrest. I keep waking up with a kink in my neck in addition to the hard on.
Every single morning.
And it’s not even her fault. She was sleeping. She. Was. Sleeping.
And her smell still permeated the whole house and drove me crazy.
It’s still driving me crazy, but it’s worse now, because she’s touching me, and she’s completely oblivious to the turmoil inside of me.
45
Cassiopé
Léandre has been silent on our way back to the house, and I don’t know what to think of it.
I don’t know what to tell him either, and that might be a first for me.
How do I tell him that I don’t want to spend time with him because he both reminds me of someone I loved and that, at the same time, I feel like the idea of spending time with him is a treason to that other person? And to top it all, how do I say that when the two people I’m talking about have inhabited the same body at some point?
I’m scared that I might like you as much or more than your previous you, but I’m even more scared that I’ll like you less.
I don’t see that going well at all.
He’s going to think I’m a lunatic—that I have a loose screw or something.
“Do you know how to cook?” Léandre finally asks when we reach the house.
