Page 56 of The Rowan's Stone
“Do you always drink procured blood?” I ask, fascinated with the idea of aging blood like wine. I know we serve it at The Abbey, but I’ve never asked any of the vampires about it.
He lifts a shoulder. “Some blood is hard to find, and by ordering it, I can make sure I have a good supply available for when I desire it.”
“So, you don’t always need it?” I ask, diving deeper into the subject. I want to know about this part of him.
“Need, want…” he muses, taking a drink. “You don’t always need coffee or food, but you want it. Although you can’t live without food and water. It’s no different for me.”
“What about taking blood directly from someone?” My heart races as I ask this question, but I don’t look away.
His gaze drops to the pulse fluttering at the base of my throat, and his icy blue eyes seem like flames. “When a vampire takes from your vein, the act briefly creates a path between the two of you, intensifying your emotions and opening the door to your mind. Sometimes, it goes both ways, and a vampire opens the door to their own. Regardless, it’s extremely intimate.” He watches my tongue lick my suddenly dry lips. “Your blood smells mouthwateringly delicious, and even before we met, I wanted a taste. Does this bother you?” He stares intently, waiting for my answer.
“No,” I rasp, desire making my voice hoarse. I hold his gaze, wanting him to see the truth.
Heat flares between us and for several seconds, we sit and stare at each other. Our server arrives, breaking the tension, and Daire relaxes back in his chair and informs him we’re ready for our dinner. Lifting a hand towards one of the paintings, he changes the topic to something a bit less explosive. While we eat and talk, the tension eases between us, becoming a low simmer.
Studying each painting, we discuss the things we like and don’t like about each one until we narrow our picks to two—an abstract picture in various shades of blues and blacks which reminds him of flying at night, and a gorgeous painting of a cottage by the water that brings back memories of his mother.
When the gallery manager comes by, he points to the two paintings, and they wrap them up and load them in the vehicle.
“Dinner was incredible,” I drawl slowly, “and the atmosphere equally impressive.”
“And the company?” he inserts smoothly.
“Intriguing,” I reply sassily, but truthfully.
“I’ll take every crumb I can get,” he jokes. “Want to come help me hang my paintings?”
I snort. “With such a smooth pickup line, how can I resist?”
Once we’re back at The Abbey and in his room, I’m surprised at the touches he’s already added to personalize it. There’s a stunning vase, a bronze statue, and a silver organic shaped bowl. We hang the abstract “night sky” painting over the bed, and the cottage canvas in the lounge area.
“It’s stunning,” I tell him.
“Mmm, I completely agree.” I turn to find him studying me and can’t help but blush.
Grabbing a jacket from the closet, he slides each of my arms through the sleeves. It’s too big, but he doesn’t give me a chance to question it. In a blur, he picks me up, and a second later, we’re on the roof.
Strolling to the edge, I take in the nearby city with its lights shimmering for miles. “It’s beautiful.”
He turns me around to face him. “Would you like to see it from another angle?” His wings snap out behind him.
For a second, I can’t speak. He’s magnificent, with his golden perfection framed against the backdrop of his black silky wings. Now that’s a painting, but I’d want it in my room, not his. “Yes,” I agree huskily.
He swings me up in his arms, and in a heart pounding second, we’re high in the air. My arms cling to him tightly at first, but as we cruise over the city, swerving in and out of the skyscrapers, a sense of exhilaration takes over. Throwing back my arms, I let go of everything and ride the night air with my dark prince, knowing he won’t let me go.
I shiver slightly from the cold, and he takes us back to the roof of The Abbey immediately.
Setting me down, he wraps his hand around my neck and places his thumb on the pulse beating rapidly at the base of my throat. “And the company?” he asks, repeating his earlier question.
“Exhilarating,” I answer breathlessly. “The wings are a game changer. You might be able to reach hero status again.”
“You’re impossible,” he growls out. Stepping in close, he swoops down and captures my lips in a scorching kiss, his mouth dominating mine with unreserved passion. Fingers slide into my hair, gripping firmly, while he shows me the stars.
Moaning, I reach up and clasp him tightly to me, wanting to give everything back to him in return. But I want to take too. I whimper, wanting to dive into his blue fire and revel in it. Turning my head for some air, he moves from my lips to my neck. He skims his teeth lightly down my neck, and I moan, knowing he wants to drink, but he only places a small kiss on my pulse.
Breathing heavily, he steps back and pulls in his wings. His hand grasps mine, and he places a kiss in the center of my palm before laying it on his chest, where I feel a beat. “Will you join me in my room?”
“If I can stop by the lounge for a minute, yes,” I reply, and a puzzled expression crosses his face, but he agrees.
