Page 92 of Vampires of Eden
Contrary by nature, I don’t want to show him how much that gesture has ruffled me. “What makes you so certain that I’d want him in return?” I ask.
“Because you’re here,” he says plainly. “Taking a risk by coming to this estate that would otherwise be off-limits to you. He’s unwell and you came to his aide. You’re standing in this ballroom, having this conversation with me. Why else would you be here and doing these things if you didn’t desire him, too?”
The warmth in my chest flushes up toward my neck. “Maybe we’re just friends?” The statement falls flat as I choke it out. I’ve been avoiding this—my feelings and this undeniablesomethingthat’s been slowly building between us over the past few weeks. But after his eyes alighting (twice) and even his reaction toward me earlier in his bedroom…
Are we “just” friends?
No.
Leoni is my friend. Her eyes have never once alighted for me. She’s never licked me and I’ve never casually wondered what it would be like to touch her in my delirium before falling asleep at night.
I feel these things for Alexander. These wayward inklings of longing. Spontaneous and strong urges to touch him. To be closer to him in some meaningful, physical way.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to press my lips to his. To open my mouth and taste him. Not only his scent, but tobreathehis sweet citrus essence.
In the very dark of night, when the hour is obscene and I’m alone and painfully restless in bed, I wonder what it would be like to make him come. What would he look like in the throes of ecstasy? Willingly vulnerable and breathless to the intense pleasure that I know I could give him. What would it feel like to pushinto him? Or better yet, have him push into me—all heat and slip and flesh without any barriers between us as I revel in his vibrant essence dancing across my naked skin and rushing through my veins.
Raphael is right. Leoni is right.
IlikeAlexander.
I desire him, but I… I don’t allow myself to think too deeply about what it means. I don’t let my mind wander in the light of day like this because it terrifies me.
Whatever the case, we’re not “just friends.”
I never think about having sex with my friends.
“If you say so.” Raphael grins as if he knows I’m full of shit. He stands from the bench. “You can use the piano while you’re here, if you want. Lexie told me that you don’t have one at your disposal anymore. So, help yourself.”
As he moves from the platform, I feel incensed. Raphael is pushing me to think about and confess things that I’ve largely been avoiding and privately grappling with. Saying them aloud gives them a realness that I’m not sure I’m ready for. He’s encouraging this… whatever the hell this is between Alexander and me.
And yet, he’s ignoring the most obvious and impermeable obstacle.
“What about his parents?” I blurt as he approaches. “His peers, the Royal Order and the whole of Central Eden’s aristocracy? None of them wouldeverapprove of someone like me. And I refuse to be his dirty little secret—or to be mistreated and looked down on. I won’t put myself through that.”
Not again. Not ever again.
Raphael looks at me as if he’s bored. “He told his parents about you.”
I start, almost climbing out of my skin from shock. “What?”
“A couple weeks ago. He told them he’s seen you and asked his dad if he remembered you. He hasn’t told them about his spending time at the safe house or the vineyard cottage—butthat’s because… well, Lady Victoria Kendrick is a tough customer and we like to avoid conflict with her whenever possible.”
“My point is valid, then?”
Raphael shrugs. “It’s complicated. Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it? I’m going back upstairs to check on him and make sure he hasn’t spewed blood everywhere. Would you like to join me?”
I frown. “That’s a charming invitation.”
He snickers. “It was a nightmare, to put it mildly. You can stay here and use the piano, if you want?”
Glancing over at the instrument, it looms in the corner like something lovely but also heart-rendering. A beautiful sonnet that I want to read, but that will also make me cry. I turn my back to it.
Not right now. Not yet.
“I’ll come with you,” I tell him. Silently, we leave the hall together.
When we went to check on him, Alexander hadn’t rejected the blood, which was a huge relief. He was still asleep, though. I sat by his bedside well into the night, reading a chosen book from the library. He slept the entire time, deeply and peacefully like a fallen angel we’d found in the yard and were nursing back to health.
