Page 67 of Taming His Vampire Mate
He came into the living room wearing nothing more than his underwear and a sleep-glazed expression. Then he froze.
“You’re still here,” he said, staring at me.
“Yes.”
I was curled on the couch, clutching a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. For the last two hours, I’d been staring out the window, watching night lighten into day, forcing myself not to think about why I was still here.
“Uh—” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly at a loss. “Um. That’s… err—”
He broke off, settling for staring at me like he had no idea what to do next.
Poor guy. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to stay. That made two of us. But now that we were both thoroughly off our track, it somehow seemed easier. For me, at least.
“Go brush your teeth,” I suggested, narrowing my eyes. “Unless you enjoy having your breath smell like vomit.”
He blinked, rapid-fire.
“Um. Is this how you express care?”
That didn’t dignify a response. I deadpanned, “Are you saying youenjoyhaving your breath smell foul?”
Oddly, he relaxed. “Only for you, darling,” he shot back.
Some bit of tension in me eased. If he could trade barbs, he wasn’t as bad off as I’d feared.
“Then go do something about it, wolf.”
He rolled his eyes but disappeared into the bathroom.
With shaky hands, I set my mug on the coffee table. Relief that he was more or less okay crashed through me, even though I tried not to feel it. I shouldn’t have cared how he felt. I should have been glad he was suffering.
But I wasn’t.
Because what he’d seen last night had wrecked him. And it had forced me to admit—albeit grudgingly—that maybe everything I’d seen from him so far added up to someone very different than my maker could ever be. Jeremy wasn’t some cold, unfeeling asshole who did what he wanted at others’ expense. He was capable of love. And of suffering for it.
When Jeremy returned, I could smell the mint from his toothpaste.
Propping himself against the doorframe, a small smile on his lips, he looked invitingly masculine.
It would have been so easy to touch him. To feel the way he shivered against me. Memory rushed in of our first night. When he got into it, Jeremy was primal. Animalistic.
Even though it was a terrible idea, my cock began to harden at the memory.
“Teeth are brushed,” he said, his voice husky enough that he had to have caught where my thoughts had gone. “Any other commands you’d like to lob in my direction?”
I had several. None of them was a good idea. Instead, I asked, “Who was the man in the dreamscape last night?”
Jeremy sucked in a breath like I’d punched him.
Guilt flashed through me. Stupid, stupid,stupid.
I shot to my feet, hands up in a placating gesture, my usual defenses disarmed. “You should know, I’m a piss-poor agony aunt.”
“No. It’s okay.” He grimaced. “The man we saw last night was my mate. Ian.”
About a million emotions—all of them better left unspoken—crashed over me.
“You’re mated?” I let out a shuddering breath. Vampires don’t need to breathe, but we still do, especially when hit in the chest with a battering ram. “I figured, because of how you behaved with James. And with me—”
