Page 33 of Little Mate

I’m shaking my head minutely before he’s done with the question. “There’s no exact reason, Theo. But I can’t deny that my soul sings each time you do.”

“That’s because you’re mine, Gabriella.” The smile on his face is beautiful. He’s otherworldly. He’s mine. “The second my eyes met yours, my life truly began. This pretty little thing that I want to circle around and protect—cherish and fuck. I want to devour you, sweetheart. Own you. And yet, above all that, I want to spoil you.”

Heat spreads across the apples of my cheeks. I feel it, but I’m not going to deny us. Him. “I want that too. Only with you.”

“Good girl.” My answer earns me another soft kiss, but this one ends with his sharp, quick nip. “Now, I’m going to need you to answer my previous question. How in control are you of your gift?”

“Very much so…” I arch a brow, though “…why?”

“Because I’m willing to help in any way you need.” Theo’s response doesn’t hold any hidden meaning, the expression on his face genuine. “I’m not looking for favors or control over you, pretty girl. Just for you to know I’m here in any capacity you need. You can’t kill me, nothing can, but I’d let you practice on me either way.”

“You’re serious?” I ask, my heart fluttering wildly inside my chest. His trust in me is humbling.

“I am.”

Shifting back a smidge so I can meet his stare a little better, I ignore the slight growl of protest that builds in his throat and smile. “That’s sweet you’d let me kill you, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You’re going to be stuck with me for a long time.”

Always. No way out for either of us.

“I’d never stop you from trying, Gabriella.” The way he says my name with reverence—the deep timbre with a velvet quality—sends a delicious rush of excitement through every limb. He knows the way he affects me; I see the way his mouth curves up into a sly grin, and I can’t help but to match it. How can a man I just met become my world within the span of a few hours? Because he has. Totally and irrevocably.

“Are you daring me to, Theo? Want to play with me?”

“Always.” Those beautiful eyes flash red for a second, the truth of his nature winking at me. Vampires are known to be volatile and unreasonable—impulsive—and yet their king is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, the rumbling in his chest a secret song just for me. Why does he feel human to me? “Just know I’ll always come back to you.”

“You have no choice.”

“I’m a demon, sweetheart. Can’t kill what’s never truly been alive.”

My brows furrow. What does that even mean?

Then again, there’s so much we don’t know about each other:

Likes and dislikes.

How we grew up.

Our dreams for the future.

How his body temperature mimics mine while his flesh molds to me when it should be hard. Unmovable. Cold.

Curiosity is a funny bitch and I blurt out my first question, much to his amusement. “How can that be, when I feel the rise and fall of your chest? Your every exhale is a caress across my skin.”

“My father is a demon, while my mother was a human,” he answers me as if that explains everything. It doesn’t. Instead, I’m left with more inquiries than before. I also don’t miss how he refers to one parent as being alive while the other as passed.

“Then you are half-human?” I thought all vampires were made, not born.

“I’m not.” Theodore moves us, pulling me with him to sit before I can argue. We kneel on his bed, the mattress sinking a bit under our combined weight while we face each other. Our knees touch. Our chests rise and fall in sync. “Pay attention.”

“What’re you...” I trail off on a hiss, watching with wide eyes as the extended nail of his pointer finger trails across my left breast, an inch above the edge of my dress. A shallow cut, just large enough that a few rivulets of blood pour from the small wound. My complaint ceases at that, though, because now I’m transfixed by the similar sharp line he drags across his chest.

This one is deeper. His claw slices through the hard flesh as if it were churned cream, and as morbid as the sight is, I find myself leaning closer. There’s blood at the wound, which contradicts his non-human argument, but when I look a little closer, I notice the difference. While my sanguine drops are a bright red and thin in consistency, his are thick and darker—almost the color of dried blood. The beads fall like mine, slowly, but the distinction is clear to see.

But then again, I’ve never heard of a vampire bleeding.

Or being warm. Or breathing. What the heck?

They take, feast on the life source of all living creatures, and yet their veins remain dry.

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