Page 37 of Yearning For Her

Willow shifted her weight on her feet self-consciously. “I like to treasure hunt in secondhand stores.”

“I see.” Kian shut the cabinets and opened a drawer, making its contents rattle and clank. “Ah, but these are a matching set.” He plucked out a spoon and held it up. The stainless-steel utensil’s color shifted as he turned it in his hand, a rainbow shimmering across it that favored pinks, purples, and blues.

“I…know it’s tacky, but when I saw them, I couldn’t resist. They’re just pretty.”

Letting out a sigh, Kian replaced the spoon and pushed the drawer closed. He turned toward her, leaning back against the counter. “I like them.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Because they make you happy. And they are rather pretty, aren’t they?”

Willow’s heart did a little flip. She smiled and sipped her coffee as he continued his exploration of her kitchen. “So, what do you do when you’re not…you know?”

“Having Sex?”

She inwardly cringed, desperately trying not to contemplate just how many people he must’ve had sex with. It was his nature, and it had happened before they’d ever met. She had no right to feel this way. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had her own sexual partners. But she couldn’t stop a twinge of jealousy, a pang of hurt, from tightening her chest.

Because she couldn’t be sure if this was a game to him. She couldn’t be sure if she was just a temporary diversion, a break from the monotony of his routine.

All the more reason not to let your heart get too attached, Willow.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well, I used to spend a significant amount of time looking for humans to have sex with,” he said with a shrug as he moseyed into the living room. “But that has long been…stale. It’s about feeding…and nothing more.”

Willow followed him. Her cats, alert but curious, kept him within their sight.

“I wander,” he continued. “Explore. Watch places and people. I listen to music, and when the mood takes me, play some myself. I also paint.”

“So you’re an artist and musician?”

“I’m just a bored immortal who happens to come in contact with very powerful human emotions on a regular basis.” Kian walked to the bookcase, which held all her romance novels—and a certain photo album that poked out farther than everything else. Of course, because fate seemed to enjoy a good laugh at Willow’s expense, he reached for the album immediately.

Willow’s eyes rounded, and she rushed forward to grab it. “Wait!”

He snatched the photo album off the shelf before she could stop him, raising it out of her reach. A playful light danced in his eyes. “What secrets are you trying to hide, Violet?”

She stood on her toes and stretched her arm up, but the album was too high. “I-It’s private.”

“Ah, that just makes it all the more tempting.” Kian turned away from her and lowered the album.

She tried to reach around him, but he strode forward, putting significant distance between them, and opened the cover. Face flaming, Willow abandoned the brief chase.

He came to an abrupt halt with the open album resting on his palm and stared at the first photo. She knew exactly what he’d seen.

A black and white image of a dark haired woman in black lingerie, her hair loose, leaning against a windowsill and staring out through the glass. The light played upon her skin, making it glow.

It was a picture of Willow.

Kian turned the page to reveal more photos of her in varying seductive, empowering poses, some in black and white, many more in color. “Oh Willow, Willow, Willow…” He turned the page again and again, browsing pictures of her in different lingerie—and some in which she wore nothing but a well-placed hand. “You sought to hide these from me?”

“They’re not the kind of thing that you just show strangers.”

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them. She loved every single photo in that album. Having them taken had been a turning point on her journey toward self-love.

She’d never shared them with any of the men she’d dated, not even Eli—though she might have considered it, had he ever asked about the photo album on her bookshelf. But Eli’s interest in the contents of her bookcase had only gone as far as him making the occasional dismissive comment about her preferred reading material.

She was happy he’d never noticed it. She’d had the photos taken for herself, not anyone else. Jamie and the photographer were the only other people who had seen them.

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