Page 48 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
CHAPTER19
There’s dim light on the other side of my closed eyelids when I wake. And I don’t really want to come back to consciousness just yet. I’m deliciously comfortable. And warm. I feel rested. Not the kind of rested where I’ve spent my energy healing. I’m talking aboutproperlyrested. And somehow… safe.
It’s that realization that kicks the first domino of thoughts down, striking the rest into motion. The bathroom. The blizzard. The blood.
The Reaper.
There’s a steady heartbeat beneath my ear.
There’s a heavy arm laying across my back.
And skin. A lot of warm skin. A cadence of breath that stirs the hair that’s fallen loose around my shoulders.
And there’s morning wood.Morning. Wood.Trapped. Against my stomach.
Fuck. My. Life.
I am unapologetically draped over the Reaper like a fucking vampire skin blanket. Who the hell knows where the covers have gone. I probably ripped them off to get closer to him. And he was probably awake when I did it too. I bet he enjoyed every single second. My cheek is resting against Ashen’s bare chest and I definitely remember him having a shirt on last night when he laid down next to me. So let’s just assume the worst, shall we? I bet I ripped that off too. I probably tore that fucker right off with my teeth.
Fuck.
Ashen’s breathing is deep and even. He hasn’t stirred. So maybe,maybe, if I’m lucky, I can roll off him before my embarrassment kills me.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Fuuuuuuck.
And there it is. I am officially deceased. I might look alive on the outside, as my blush will tell you, but my insides have died and dissolved into a puddle of scum.
Even worse, I haven’t even fuckingmoved. And now it seems I can’t. I’m frozen in place.
“This is a welcome surprise,” Ashen says, amusement laced through his voice. “Though I should likely be worried for my life, given how proximity to you has ended for me lately.”
I finally peel my face from Ashen’s chest and brush some of the hair from my eyes. I take a deep breath before shifting a fierce glare in his direction that clearly statesthis is your fault, motherfucker.
And goddamn, but he’s so beautiful, even in the morning, even being squished by a vampire for however many hours it’s been. It’s so… unfair. He’s legit angelic, and I’m one hundred percent certain I have leftover mascara smeared beneath my lashes. But no, not Ashen. He’s in tip-top shape, only made worse by the shit-eating grin that he’s barely even trying to contain. The gold flecks in his eyes seem to dance with delight. He looks completely at ease, one arm beneath his pillow, the other still draped across my back.
His grip around me tightens, just enough for me to notice. My glare intensifies.
“Where is your shirt?”
“You requested I remove it. I merely complied,” he says. My eyes narrow. His brighten. We stare.
“Now I’m requesting for you to put it the fuck back on.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence.
“I cannot.”
I suppress a growl. “Why not?”
“You are in my way.”
I try to slide off Ashen’s chest. My shirt must’ve ridden up as I slept and now my abs are flush against his. Our skin sticks and pulls against one another’s in the rising heat of the Italian morning. Ashen’s hold across my back grows a little more solid.
Asshat Reaper Motherfucker.
My glare brightens. Ashen’s smile grows. He’s clearly loving that he thinks he’s winning some kind of battle. But I’m a siren, for fucksakes. No one bests me out of a game of desire. Attraction and Annihilation and all that. I think it’s about time I start playing to win. But that means I’m supposed to have the upper hand. And right now I feel like I… don’t.
