Page 38 of Craved

In the garden below my window, a woman gave a high, excited laugh. A man’s low voice answered her.

It was like being slapped awake from the best dream ever.

I stiffened and recalled the ballroom of people waiting to celebrate my birthday. Any minute, Victorine would send someone to get me, or come herself. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the scene in the penthouse.

My chest heaved. “Stop.”

Rafe stilled. His thick dark lashes came down. “Damn it, Zoe.”

“We can’t do this.” I set my forehead against his. “My mother—”

His jaw worked. “Right.” He released my wrists and removed his hand from between my legs. His arms came around me in a loose hold. His fingers constricted on my back, like he didn’t want to ever let me go. “Then meet me later. I’ll wait for you here.”

I was tempted. So tempted.

But I couldn’t risk it.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

His hold didn’t loosen. “Please?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, sorrow warring with regret.

“Zoe?”

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I slid from his grasp. Pulled up my panties.

“I have to get back downstairs.”

His lips twisted. “So that’s it? Goodbye, Rafe, it’s been nice seeing you—and by the way, I’m going to choose a mate tonight.”

“I can’t—” I waved a hand between us. “We can’t. I told you. It would never work.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

I took a slow breath, trying not to show how much that hurt. “Because I’m thinking with my brain, not my cock.”

His eyes flickered, the only hint I’d scored a hit.

He dragged a hand over his hair. “Fuck. I need a drink.” He took a bottle of blood-wine from the small refrigerator built into the living room wall and ripped out the cork with his bare hands.

“Help yourself,” I muttered.

Suddenly, I realized something. The signs had been there—the edginess; the feral, angular look of his face; the blue rimming his irises—but I’d read them as lust…sexual lust.

But he was feeling the blood craving, too.

My brow furrowed. “When’s the last time you fed?”

He moved a shoulder and took a long drink. My eyes locked on his strong throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and desire stabbed me.

Desire, and a soul-deep, bittersweet sadness.

I smoothed down my skirt. “Will you be all right?”

“I got in here. I can get out.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant, but I let it go.

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