Page 112 of Immortal Bastard

An exasperated breath huffed out of her. Tempted to see how far he’d go if she broke his rules, she considered letting an F-bomb drop, but what if he really was serious and it hurt? Forget that.

It was already starting to work.

Was it really her language or was her language just a vehicle to get him off on some Amish discipline kink? He said he could never truly hurt her, so it was a bit of a catch twenty-two.

“Fine. I’ll try not to swear.”

“Good. I’m pleased with how our negotiations are going.”

She supposed he would be, being that he got sex and spankings with a side of no talking to boys or cursing. How had he managed all of that while she only got chaperoned field trips around the farm? It was time to go for the jugular. “My turn. I want to visit my shop.”

“No.”

“Do you know another word? What the hel—eck? Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re different now. Your body has needs. The more you starve yourself, the less self-control you’ll have. You could injure someone unintentionally. And you still haven’t learned the basics of compulsion. It’s too great of a risk to you and to others. It’s my duty to protect you, so the answer is no.”

“You could go with me.”

“Of course, I would. But it’s still out of the question.”

“You’re not negotiating with me. You have all these conditions and demands, but you won’t compromise if it’s something you don’t want. How is that fair?”

He hesitated then suggested, “I’ll reconsider in two weeks. If I feel you still aren’t ready, then my answer will remain no.”

“And what criteria qualifies me as ready?”

“Trust, for one. Right now, I don’t trust you.”

“At least we have that in common,” she grumbled. “I still feel like you’re getting more out of this deal than I am.”

“You asked for no biting. I agreed. You asked for freedom on the farm. I granted your request within reason.”

“But you added conditions. I didn’t limit you when you asked for fucking—shit! Sorry. Screwing. Can I say screwing?”

He sighed. “The preferred phrase is intimacy.”

She rolled her eyes. Like anyone called it that. What was next, her flowering vagina and her heaving bosom? Dear God, she was rotting away in a bad romance. Lady Gaga could write a lyrical masterpiece on this one.

“Ask me for something realistic, pintura, and I’ll be more than happy to grant you it.”

She couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t instantly shoot down. Then it came to her. “No more feeding me without my consent.”

His head lifted, all playfulness replaced by serious concern. “Will you feed on your own?”

“I’ll eat.”

“Feeding is different from eating. Blood serves a different purpose than food.”

“Has a vampire ever starved from not drinking blood?”

“Immortal. And it can become very painful. The body begins to atrophy over time. Flesh rots and bone crumbles—”

“All right, all right. I get the picture.” She felt sick just picturing that. “I don’t want you doing that bedazzle thing on me again. I want you to respect my choices and trust that I know my body best.”

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