Page 139 of Vampires of Eden
I don’t let him.
“How long do I need to pretend to be this timid and wholesome vampire?” I ask. “When can I be honest about the fact that I would really, really like to make you come again? Hard and inside of me, preferably.” Call me sex-crazed, but now that he’s officially had his fangs in me, Ineedmore. My body craves it. As soon as possible.
The snarling sexual deviant in my nature enjoys the sight of Alexander’s face slowly flushing crimson and his golden eyes reigniting. He doesn’t say anything as he cradles Buffy in his gorgeous (slightly damaged) suit.
“I’m guessing that no one has ever spoken to his highness like this before?” I grin and wiggle my eyebrows. “With such hedonistic vulgarity. I’m not shy or innocent, Alexander. I’ve been holding back a lot with you. I want to be honest about this.”
He bends, gently placing Buffy onto the floor, to which she protests and begins meowing once more. “Well, it’s… Wait. I haven’t even explained why Raph called you. Don’t you want to know?”
“Mildly.” I shrug. “You seem fine?”
“You came all the way here without even knowing why? For me?”
“I did. Are you intentionally changing the subject?”
“No. Well, a little… but I—” He shakes his head, closes his eyes, then sets his palm against his forehead as he takes an intentional breath. “Listen, let me explain what happened today while we get some food. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat. Didn’t you just come from a swanky Central Eden banquet?”
“Yes, but there’s rarely anything that I want to eat at those events. When I can avoid it, I don’t bother.”
I nod, remembering. “Ah, right. Vegan vampire.”
He opens his eyes, smiling, and they’re back to normal. He offers his hand. “Come with?”
Resolute, I slip my hand into his. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 33
Daniel
With his hand in mine, Alexander guides me down several warmly lit and quiet hallways. Not even Raphael makes an appearance along the way and it feels as if everyone in the house is sleeping except for us—and Buffy, who never leaves Alexander’s side. He told me via text that she’s been this way since he got back to the estate. I almost feel like I owe her an apology for hoarding him to myself for a week.
Almost.
We turn a corner into a proper chef’s kitchen. The space is huge but cozy because of all the oak finishings. A series of contemporary metal lanterns hang from the wood-beamed ceiling. Alexander forgoes the main lighting and turns on the discreetly placed recess lights situated beneath the cabinets. The creamy marble countertops sparkle. Clean and organized with rows of attentively labeled glass canisters.
“Have a seat at the island,” he says, letting go of my hand and heading over to the stainless-steel fridge. A tall rectangular table fashioned from warm wood is stationed in the center of the room. There are matching stools situated around it. I pull one out and make myself comfortable.
To my surprise, Buffy hops onto the stool at myside, then climbs up on the table’s surface and sits. Watching me. I narrow my eyes. “You have to share him. I want him, too.”
She looks away from me, disinterested. She watches Alexander at the sink.
“Are you alright with chai?” he asks over his shoulder. “I usually have it before bed if I’m up late like this.”
“Sure,” I say. “The caffeine doesn’t bother you?”
“Nah, my only weakness is alcohol. I like the spices in chai. The taste is comforting.”
With the kettle on, he turns and heads toward the opposite end of the counter where some baked-good situation is set beneath a glass cake stand. I watch silently as he moves, confidently gathering things in his dazzling ensemble.
Soon, there’s a beautiful but humble feast in front of me. A neatly arranged platter of cherries, red and green grapes, macadamia nuts, salted almonds, pumpkin seeds and dried mangoes. He’s also brought a plate with two squares of a moist and delicious-looking apple-crumb cake. Last, but certainly not least, a steaming pot of chai, two cups and a small jug of warmed oat milk. He’s even brought little crystal containers of cinnamon and brown sugar.
Amazed, I chuckle. “Not beer, peanuts and popcorn, then?”
Buffy makes her way around the hoard and into Alexander’s lap. He sits back, letting her get comfortable atop his thighs but he blinks up at me. “Would you rather have those things? I can grab some.”
“No, I’m joking. This is wonderful. Do you do this often?”
