Page 22 of Hot Blooded
I begin to wonder if the sun is affecting him. “Should we go inside?”
“Whatever you want, Tressa.”
When I don’t respond, Reign takes a step closer. I like watching him, and could stare at him for hours. His bone structure, his perfect physique. He rarely smiles, but somehow, I even like that. Something we have in common, I guess.
“What do you want?” he repeats.
I want you to taste me.I stiffen at the unexpected thought. Where had that come from?
Reign’s mouth twitches. “Your mother is wrong about you, you’re exceptional and...” My gaze moves to his mouth and my eyes hold a sultry look. “…and you’ve got to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I’m breathless.
“Like you want me to kiss you and never stop.”
My lungs seize. I do want him to kiss me—if only to see what it’s like. Or maybe because I haven’t been kissed by anyone in such a long time. Or, maybe because it’sReign,and I find him utterly irresistible.
“It’s not a good idea,” he says finally, voice somewhat wooden.
I nod once, tipping my chin.
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. It doesn’t stop the dangerous thoughts playing through my brain.
Distracted, I bend down and lift a wilting flower to inspect the bud, when a sharp thorn pierces my skin.Ouch!Without thinking, I bring my aching index finger to my lips and wince. A tangy, metallic taste remains on my tongue even after I pull my finger away.
Reign stiffens and takes two steps back. “Are you okay?”
I hold up my finger, inspecting it. “I think so. It’s just …”
“You’re bleeding.” His voice is cool, but interested.
“I-I guess I am, but it’s really okay…” That’s when I realize that whileIam okay, Reign is not. The sight, or maybe the scent of my blood is affecting him. His expression is pained, and his gaze is locked onto mine—like a hunter watching his prey. A small jolt races through me at that knowledge. “I’m sorry,” I manage, throat suddenly tight. I’m dizzy, but not from the blood loss.
“You’re sorry for bleeding?” His lips tilt up.
“Is this… bothering you?” I ask, still holding up my hand.
“It’s…distracting, yes.” He swallows.
The mental image of Reign’s mouth nuzzling against the pad of my finger, of his full lips closing around the digit flash through my brain. I contemplate what it would feel like for him to lick and suck at the droplets of blood. Another warm pulse of desire washes over me.
Reign takes a final step back. “Go inside, Tressa.” His voice holds an edge of warning. “You really should bandage that finger.”
I’ve been dismissed, and just like that, our magical little afternoon is over.
Chapter 12
Tressa
I’m working in the library when a small leather-bound book catches my attention. It’s been wedged deep in between two larger volumes. I carefully lift it out and inspect the cover. It’s red with an engraved rose on the cover. There’s no title. No author name. Maybe it’s missing its dust jacket. I flip it open and realize it’s not a book at all, but a journal. Tidy, scripted handwriting lines the aged pages. I flip to the front to see if there’s a name of the owner, but there’s nothing.
The first entry is dated May 6, 1902. It’s well over a hundred and twenty years old. I close the book and set it on my desk. I want to have a closer look at it, but I’m in the middle of cataloging the foreign-language titles, so it will have to wait. Something tells me this particular book has been waiting a very long time for someone to stumble across it, so what’s a few more hours?
That evening, after my work is complete, I head to the kitchen to locate something to eat. Aside from eating dinner that first night with Reign, I’ve mostly been left to my own devices. I’m guessing it’s because mealtimes for him hold a different meaning. I am decidedly human, and my stomach inevitably starts rumbling by six o’clock. I find Mrs. Potts humming to herself in the kitchen.
“Hello, dear.” She smiles warmly, welcoming me in with a wave. “Take a seat.”
I settle in at the breakfast bar and watch as she kneads a large blob of dough on the floured marble island.
