“As I am by you,” he said, lifting his ruined shirt over his head. Even with the dim lighting I could make out all the areas where the material had been shredded. Areas where he’d been stabbed by the centaurs’ spears. “You don’t need to fight it. I am your soulmate. I like it that I can affect you this way.”
My gaze dropped to his naked torso, my chest rising and falling. Unlike his shirt, his broad expanse of chest was unblemished, save for some smears of dried blood where he’d briefly bled before his skin healed over.
His words sounded like a dare to me, and dammit, I gotten this far in life being a baddie! I wasn’t going to stop being one now.
I grabbed the edge of my torn shirt and worked it over my head, uncovering my bra and my pale skin. I stayed like that for only a moment, and then I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra, exposing myself to him.
Andre stilled and his muscles tensed. He hadn’t yet put a shirt on, and in that moment it was unclear whether more clothes would be added or subtracted to the equation.
I breathed in the intoxicating smell that rolled off Andre. It was impossible not to in the small confines.
I held up the corset he’d given me. “Will you help me put it on?” I asked.
He prowled over to me by way of answer. Taking the bustier from my hands, he wrapped it around my torso and began hooking it together down the front. His fingers brushed the skin between my breasts, but like the gentleman he was trying to be, he didn’t pay them any extra attention. I wish he had.
Once he finished, his hands lingered at my hips. “It might not be the most comfortable outfit, but the leather will offer you the most protection.”
Uh huh. Like that was the real reason why a freaking corset was today’s casual wear. I probably would’ve kicked up a fuss, except that it was impossible to focus with him this close.
I placed a hand on his chest, and my thumb moved over the dried blood, rubbing it away. I concentrated on the tan skin in front of me, pulled taut over muscle.
Beneath my touch, he shuddered. I glanced up at him, only to see his eyes closed and a small smile dancing along his lips.
Gently he removed my hand, giving it a squeeze as he opened his eyes. “I’m trying to show some self-restraint,” he said, “but with you it’s a lot harder than it should be.”
“I thought you said that you didn’t need to fight it.”
A low, pained groan came out of him. “I said that you didn’t need to fight it. I, however, …” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to take things at a pace you’re comfortable with, and it’s taking every last ounce of control I have.”
He turned from me then and crouched next to our bag. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a blood bag and a protein bar. “Eat up,” he said, handing them to me. “You’ll need your energy today.”
I stared down at the two items. It was a sad day when the blood held more appeal for me than the human food. I gave the protein bar back to him.
Andre pushed it back towards me. “Drink the blood first, then see if your appetite returns.”
I did so, but it pained me to admit as I finished drinking the liquid that not even the blood held much allure for me today.
Before I could think too much on it, I tore open the protein bar and had a few bites. When my stomach didn’t immediately try to upchuck it, I ate more. Eventually I managed to polish the thing off, though I felt a little queasy.
“What about you?” I asked, shoving the wrappers into the bag. Apparently the anti-Christ didn’t litter, which made everyone who else did a bunch of royal D-bags. “Aren’t you going to … have breakfast?”
“I’m saving the blood bags for you.”
I stared at him, aghast. “But you also need to feed.”
“I did last night, if you remember,” he said. “I’m in no danger of starving.” But you are. Those words went unspoken, but I still heard them. Both of us had noticed my diminished appetite.
It had only taken days for me to lose most of my human hungers. I worried that my vampire ones would go just as quickly. The body could only continue so long without food and water. If I stopped drinking blood, I’d have only days to live.
If that.
Chapter 9
“Now tell me again how exactly this place factors into our great escape?” I gazed at club Bleu from the shadows as I covertly picked out the world’s worst wedgie. Leather.
“You’ll see,” Andre said, being cryptic for the five millionth time in the last two days. My hands were itching to shake him until he spilled his secrets—seers be damned.
He took my hand. “C’mon.”
I tried not to stare at my surroundings as we crossed the street, but it was impossible not to when human sized windows showcased scantily clad men and women. I’d read about Amsterdam’s Red Light District, but reading was different from seeing.
Way different.
Andre strode towards Bleu, his hand tugging mine when I lagged behind. I felt all sorts of exposed walking out in the open like this. Even this late into the evening, the streets were crowded, which meant that someone would inevitably recognize me. Especially if we partied it up inside one of Andre’s swanky supernatural clubs, which I was assuming this was.
After slipping out of the crypt, we’d driven for a couple hours until we’d entered Amsterdam. And now we were here, at a nightclub, and I was sure I had the remnants of vomit, blood, and corpse dust clinging to me.
As the line of people waiting outside the club caught sight of Andre, they began to scream excitedly. I’d been through so much with him that it took me a moment to remember that in addition to being old as dirt and the king of vampires, he was also an international celebrity. Maybe it was the swagger or the face that promised danger, but he always, always had this effect on crowds that recognized him.
However, as soon as Andre’s fan club caught sight of me, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd went from screaming to silent. I could smell their fear, their excitement, their lust.