Pavel.
He’s the nearest thing to a walking corps as I’ve ever seen.
And suddenly what Prey said about vampires aging makes so much more sense. He’s ancient. He truly is.
I stiffly place the pictures face down on my nightstand and try to breathe out the uneasy feelings tangling tightly in my stomach.
I’m walking into a nightmare.
I should rest. I know they’ll all be up until the dawn, and I’ll be expected to do the same. But I’m too anxious and wired to sleep.
“You should practice some meditation or breathing exercises. Your heart is a bit faster than theirs, but right now it’s a slamming noise that is much too loud to belong to a vampire.”
I peek open an eye at the shifter.
“How do their hearts beat?”
In movies, their pulse is nonexistent.So how can I blend in if even Vuitton can hear every beat of my anxious heart?
“They still have a pulse, but it’s just different from a human’s or even my own. Mine always sounds like yours does right now. Shifter hearts speed nonstop, while vampire hearts maintain a slow rhythm. The nearest thing to death as I’ve ever heard. It’s just enough to keep them living, but more than enough to keep them from dying.”
I exhale the slowest sigh, and though I can’t immediately tell if my pulse is calming, Vuitton nods with a sweet smile at my attempt.
“You can do this,” he whispers like his encouragement is a secret he doesn’t want Prey or Louis to know about.
“Thanks.” I roll my head from side to side and try my best to release all the tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders since these men stormed into my life.
“Come here,” he steps closer and I hesitate for only a moment before I sit up and lean into the one person who has been a friend to be during all of this madness.
Do I trust him? Ab-so-fucking-lutely not.
But he isn’t an enemy. I can tell that much at least. My sister took him in because she trusted him to protect her. That speaks to his character some.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone in the supernatural world.
His big hands lift cautiously and I have to force myself not to shift beneath his touch as he wraps his warm palms around my shoulders, just under my neck.
And then he starts kneading.
I hold his gaze as he delicately works the stiffness from my muscles. His pace is slow and firm and it all feels oh so fucking good. A shaking breath slips from my lungs when his thumbs press just right and the smile that pulls at his lips is wide and alluring.
Charming.
Perfect.
The touch of his fingers is hypnotic. Their very presence is an addicting sensation, like the rush of adrenaline just before a fall.
My defenses subside and my shoulders slump while he works my body like he knows every inch of it. I unknowingly lean in so far that my temple brushes against his smooth skin. I tilt my head up to find myself just a kiss away from the hard lines of his abs. Lines carved as if from granite cut through his solid muscle tone. A heavier breath pushes from my lungs causing him to shift as my exhale washes down the thin trail of hair that leads down the lowest part of his stomach. Down. Down. Down...
My gaze lowers, and then lifts back up.
His light brown eyes pulse with a deep green ring around them. His hands against my body halt entirely. All that exists between us is the way he looks at me right now. It’s a hot spark of energy, a fire of want.
A blaze of lust.
His head dips forward and I don’t even think about it as I sit up on my knees. His hands shift. My chest presses against his, but it’s still not enough.
“Vuitton?” I ask in the breath of a voice. Barely a sound, not even a word at all.
More of a moan.
Then he presses his lips hard to mine, parting my lips and tasting the desire lacing his name on my tongue. The warmth of his hands shift, and the strength of those palms slides down my body in a controlling and delicious way. I arch into him as he wraps his hands around my thighs and slides my body up against the bed. He positions me just how he needs, his thickness is hard between my thighs, his hips nestle perfectly between mine.
Then I realize he isn’t using my body for himself at all.
He positions himself just a fraction of an inch over me. His hold on my thighs slips around my hips, and then his fingers are teasing along my stomach, just over the button of my jeans. Warmth flashes across my flesh in a shiver that shakes all throughout me.
His kisses slow down. He pulls back just slightly, allowing our gazes to shift over one another. Our breaths clash in the air between us.
As he second guesses his actions and my desires, I make it totally clear for him.
I just want to drown in the energy he gives off.
Perhaps it’s the human part of me firing off warning flares, or maybe it really is some kind of supernatural magic.
But I want more of that addicting spark that’s glowing between us.
My fingers slide from between his, just to unsnap my jeans before I slam my lips back into his. A groan shivers between our mouths and I’m honestly not sure if it’s mine or his. The flick of his tongue against mine spirals unending energy right through my core, but it’s nothing compared to the static sensation that blazes over my flesh the moment his warm fingers trail down my abdomen. It’s a casual pace, an exploration of my soft skin against the roughness of his palm. It slows even more when his fingertips dip down, then sneak beneath my jeans.
My back arches to
