Page 106 of Bite
I should probably be paying more attention since this is my world now, but instead my eyes keep drifting to the diamond on my left hand, marveling at how it catches the candlelight.
We haven’t set a date yet. Every time the subject comes up, one or both of us ends up distracted by a different kind of hunger. Not that I’m complaining. My future husband fucks like it’s the only thing keeping him out of hell, and frankly, I hope he never finds salvation.
I flick my gaze at the clock. The party started an hour ago; we should probably head down soon.
Leaning back, I roll my neck and let my thoughts continue to wander. It’s strange to think how much has changed in the month since me and James bonded. I still remember the first time I walked into this house as a paid donor– anxious, defensive, unsure if I’d end up dead or just ruined.
Now,everythingis different.
The bond has changed me. And I don’t just mean the freakishly fast healing of the bruises James leaves behind or the dreams that seem to bleed into waking life. I mean the way my entire body feels rewired, like every cell just got the memo that I’m alive, wanted,radiant.
I still have the scars of my past and the anxiety that paces the length of my ribcage some nights. But I also have a cat with more attitude than Bex on a bender, an immortal fiancé who worships the ground I walk on, and a bestie who regularly sends me vampire memes at three in the morning just to make me smile.
This is the happiest I’ve ever been.
James’ voice drops to a lower register, and I feel it vibrate in my chest before the sound even hits my ears.
“Of course,” he says, each word iced with precision. “But if the numbers haven’t improved by next quarter, I’ll be forced to take more drastic measures.”
A pause, a sip of whiskey.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
He ends the call, and the room immediately feels lighter, the tension dissolving on a dime. He doesn’t move right away– just stares off into space, swirling the last inch of his drink. I study the hard line of his jaw, the fall of his platinum hair into his eyes, the curve of his bicep where the sleeve clings. If he weren’t already mine, this would be a truly embarrassing display of thirst.
A prickle dances along my scalp– the unmistakable warning that James is about to speak without moving his lips. The telepathy thing is real, and he’s gottenverygood at it. I haven’t mastered it yet, but I can’t deny how much I love the way his thoughts slip into mine.
Gorgeous.
The word drops into my brain like a pebble in a pond, and I look up to see him grinning. He sets the glass aside, smooths his hair back, and crosses the lounge to me in a few easy strides.
“That’s cheating,” I say, smirking up at him.
He arches a brow. “If we’re not going to use telepathy, then what’s the point of even having it?”
“I told you, it makes me feel like I’m being haunted by a horny ghost.”
He closes the remaining distance and sinks onto the couch beside me, one arm draped along the back, fingertips brushing my bare shoulder. “Are you implying I lack subtlety?”
“Absolutely not.” I lean into him. “Just try to keep it clean tonight, huh? The last time you did it in public, I almost came in the middle of a charity auction.”
“That was intentional,” he purrs, fingers tracing idle patterns down my arm. “You wanted to bid on thatawfulcat painting. I had to distract you.”
“But it looked like Oz,” I pout– though the memory of how he distracted me makes my teeth catch my lip.
“Having that creature living here is quite enough. We don’t need to glorify him in art.”
“But it would’ve looked great above the mantel,” I tease.
He gives me a long, unimpressed look before shaking his head, dismissing the idea entirely.
I giggle softly as I glance down at myself, smoothing my skirt. “Do I look okay?”
James doesn’t even hesitate.
“You look ravishing, darling.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Absolute perfection.”
I blush despite myself. His compliments never get old. It’s not even what he says– it’showhe says it, the way he looks at me like he’s undressing me with his eyes.
