Page 46 of Taming His Vampire Mate
I followed in silence, watching his back with suspicion. What was he playing at?
Moving quietly, we checked every building on Main Street, listening for the telltale sounds of human life. We branched into side streets, but after covering half the town, three of our four hours were already gone.
If we’d turned a corner to find the horde of bloodthirsty newborn vampires waiting—or even Godric—I’d have welcomed the distraction. But the hours passed, and Jeremy didn’t act any differently toward me.
He didn’t mention the dream, even though every detail was seared into my mind. He barely spoke at all. If he was thinking about it, he didn’t let on.
But how could he be thinking about anything else?
I kept replaying it—a habit I’ve always had when faced with something unpleasant or humiliating. I turn it over and over, as though I might somehow change the outcome. I never do. Usually, I just exhaust myself. Even so, knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to stop.
If I stepped away from the sheer horror of what it meant long-term, I had to admit the dream had seemed more vivid than the waking world. It wasn’t just that we were both there, but that our existence there felt more real than reality.
Rookwood, in comparison, seemed pale and flat, its colors washed out and horribly mundane. Jeremy had literally plucked a mote of pure magic from the air and held it in his hand, his rugged features softening with boyish wonder. That wouldn’t have been possible here.
And then I had thrown myself at him.
And he had rejected me.
It took longer than it should have for the sting of that to fade so I could see the truth of what had happened.
Because hehadbeen interested—or at least his body had been. But he had still stopped. Instead of satisfying his own needs, he had forced me to recognize it wasn’t just a dream. That it mattered.
He could have taken advantage. He had to have known that. And he hadn’t.
In fact, he’d taken a risk. He thought vampires volatile, bloodthirsty monsters. He hardly knew me. Perhaps, in his mind, there was a chance I might have reacted… poorly.
And he’d told me anyway.
Grudgingly, I had to admit he’d done the right thing.
Magnus never would have. He would have toyed with me, used me until there was nothing left, ensuring I felt every ounce of shame afterward. Even after destroying my brother, he hadn’t let me go. Decades passed before I escaped him. And he had never let something like consent stop him from getting what he wanted.
The difference between Magnus and Jeremy, even in that single moment, was impossible to ignore.
Which meant…
Well, Jeremy was still an asshole, but he wasn’t the monster I’d pegged him for. He wasn’t like Magnus at all. But how did that square with what had happened with James and Pierce?
“You know, I wonder why this doesn’t happen more often,” Jeremy said at last, breaking the silence. He frowned at the motionless tree-lined street. Sunset was an hour away, shadows lengthening ominously.
Even if he wasn’t Magnus’s caliber, he was still an ass, and I couldn’t resist the opening. “Right, because all vampires are monsters who can’t control themselves around the living?”
He led us up the driveway of the next house, chuckling. At the gate, he turned back with a look that said he wasn’t taking the bait. “No. I’m surprised because all it takes is one newborn who doesn’t know better, right? They bite someone, then that person bites someone else, and—”
“No.”
He paused, brow furrowed. “No?”
“It’s not like it is with wolves. Just biting someone isn’t enough to turn them into a vampire.”
He frowned, unlatching the gate and holding it open for me, then letting it bang shut. “How does it work, then?”
“Your pack lore doesn’t teach you about other supernatural creatures?”
He raised his eyebrows and waited.
I sighed. “For someone to turn, a vampire needs to feed them their blood and then kill them immediately—before the blood expends its magic healing wounds or causing arousa—”
