He didn’t lift his gaze, didn’t acknowledge my useless platitude. “I have had a very long time to get past it, to move forward. As I became older, stronger, it was easier to pretend it had never happened at all. However, when someone touches me, they put their hands on me, I feel the same spark of disgust I did before, and I react as in on instinct.”
I folded my hands in my lap, trying to make it clear I wouldn’t press his boundaries. “I didn’t realize.”
“Of course not. How could you? I have shared that with no one.”
“No one? In”—I muttered a jumbled string of sounds since I had no idea how old he actually was—“years?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “If you know the worst of my secrets, what does my age matter? I was turned around 1800 BC.”
That shocked me. I’d known he was old, but I’d thought a few hundred years. Maybe a thousand? The math quickly added up to over three thousand years old, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard of a vampire of that age.
Most, when they reached a fraction of that, retreated from the world, found some out-of-the-way place and all but atrophied to nothing. The weight of time passing grew too much for most, which was one reason asking a vampire’s age was such a taboo. It was an unwelcome conversation, a reminder that while they didn’t grow old, their time was rarely unlimited.
“How…” I asked, unable to formulate a question.
He turned his head to look at me, and it reminded me of when he’d been asleep, as if he’d lowered those defenses for a moment and let me see him. “Not many of us make it to my age intact. We are most often killed by those we turn who want more power. I, however, have never made another vampire. Time passed, and no matter how much, I always knew I had something worth being engaged for.”
“What?”
He turned away. “It doesn’t matter. I understand if this is too much, Ava. After what I did, I understand if the danger is too great, or if you simply don’t wish to pursue anything, especially because of…”
“Like I’d hold that against you. My life hasn’t exactly been peaches, and what the vampire who made you did, that wasn’t your fault.”
He sighed, as if my answer was unexpected. “It isn’t exactly the sort of thing one wishes for from their male partner.” Before I could jump in and tell him, again, that it didn’t make me think less of him, he changed the subject. “I would not hurt you, not on purpose.”
“I know. Maybe bed sharing isn’t such a good idea, though?” I laughed, but it held no humor.
“Perhaps,” he admitted softly. “I’d hoped it would be different with you.”
“So you’ve tried this before?”
“Not exactly. You are unique, a situation I’ve never found myself in before. However, yes, I have attempted to work through my aversions in the past.”
“And?”
“And I am able to enjoy sex—fully—but still can’t allow a female to touch me freely. I’m afraid that may be too far for me to ever expect to get.” He paused, then blew out a long, unhappy breath, one that reminded me of how many years of pent-up feelings he had—especially given his revelation about his age. “I truly hoped it would be different, that I wouldn’t react to you as I had in the past, so if this isn’t what you want anymore—”
He was rambling. It was obvious, the way his language became impossibly more formal, as he restated the same thing over and over because he wasn’t sure what to say next, that he would just keep talking until he hit a point where he ran out of words. He was caught in a loop, one where he wanted to give me an out I didn’t need.
So I tried to tell him what I needed to the only way I could. I shifted so I sat front of him and pressed the insides of my wrists together, then set them in his folded hands.
He lifted his gaze to mine, his eyes the same deep brown I was used to—I might accept him, but I didn’t love that red thing they did when he went all feral—and he closed his hands around my wrists.
He leaned forward and kissed me, hungry and desperate, as if he could put the unpleasant conversation behind us with that alone. I could taste the chalk of the sober-up pill on his teeth, telling me at least it wasn’t ambrosia driving his actions.
He shifted my wrists behind me, held them against the small of my back, then tugged me forward and into his lap.
No matter how I shifted, his grip didn’t loosen at all.
And yes I wanted to touch him. The need to run my hands along his hard flesh, to explore his body fully consumed me, but I’d rather have what he was willing to give than nothing at all.
His fangs were sharp, but he was careful, even when he deepened the kiss. I kept my tongue away, not wanting to slice myself, especially after his last reaction to my blood.
I might have been offended by that again if it wasn’t for how his hard cock pressed against his slacks—and against me.
It was difficult to care about him not fancying my blood when he clearly wanted my body.
He slid his free hand into my hair, holding me still as he took my lips until I was mindless with want.
He wasn’t old as fuck, we weren’t in danger, we weren’t even in hell. It was two bodies driven by something they’d wanted and been denied.
He broke the kiss to meet my gaze. “Can you keep your hands there?”
I nodded. If it meant he’d have two hands to use on me? I was pretty sure I could do anything.
Kase undid the fastening on my pants and worked them off, one leg at a time, and while
