Philippe blinked and looked up at the vampire still stretched across the middle of the bed. The smile spread over Rafe’s lips stopped his heart, and some of the peace he’d felt earlier was easing into tense muscles.
“Give me no more of you than you’re comfortable giving,” Rafe murmured.
“I want to give you all of me.” Philippe’s voice shook, but he stubbornly held Rafe’s gaze.
“When you’re ready.” Rafe’s playful smile returned. “We do have eternity stretched out in front of us. There’s no need to rush.”
But Philippe didn’t want to wait any longer. Didn’t want to hide.
Holding on to Rafe’s smile, Philippe unbuttoned and lowered the zipper of his jeans. He hooked his thumbs inside of his pants and briefs, shoving them both down to the floor. He paused long enough to remove his socks as well and then straightened to find confusion furrowing Rafe’s brow and wiping away his smile.
“I…I don’t understand,” Rafe admitted softly. “You are perfect. You have no reason to hide yourself. Artists would have fought for the honor of capturing your likeness with paint or marble.”
Philippe fought to hold tight to the tremulous smile on his lips. Rafe’s praise warmed him deeply, but the sexy man couldn’t see what still haunted him after so many years.
Slowly, Philippe crossed to the bed and climbed onto the mattress. As he drew closer, Rafe’s eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side as if trying to get a better view of Philippe’s right hip. Swallowing hard, Philippe turned so that his lover could fully see his right side, wrenching a harsh sound from Rafe’s throat. The handsome vampire reached out, straightening his fingers from where they’d been balled into a fist to lightly touch the old scar on the side of Philippe’s right ass cheek.
He didn’t need to turn his head to know what Rafe was seeing. A large Q was carved into his flesh. The skin there was still a little ragged and red, as if the mark had been made just days ago rather than centuries.
“Who?” Rafe’s wonderful voice trembled with rage. “Who did this to you?”
“My maker.” Philippe cleared his throat of the self-loathing that rose up whenever he thought of the scar. “My story is too similar to Gideon’s, it would seem. As a human, I caught the eye of someone I didn’t want. Quentin. He didn’t appreciate my rejection, so he marked me. Wanted everyone to know whose property I was. And then he turned me so the scar would always be fresh and new.”
“Mon ange…”
Philippe gave a little shake of his head, wanting to get all the words out, so they could finally move past it. Not think about it. Pretend he wasn’t branded like some piece of cattle. “It was by sheer luck that he was killed by another vampire a couple of months later, allowing me to disappear. But despite being dead for almost all of my vampire existence, he made sure that I could never forget him.”
Rafe’s hand left his hip to tightly grip his jaw. Philippe reluctantly turned his head, leaning into that strong touch while lifting his gaze to meet Rafe’s glowing eyes. Desire still burned there, but also rage. “That worthless creature’s only redeeming act was to bring you into our world so that I would have the good fortune of meeting you so many years later. Beyond that, he does not merit a thought. This mark does not diminish you. You are still a perfect golden light. You are still mon ange. Nothing will change that.”
And Philippe’s heart soared from his chest. He lunged at Rafe, sending them crashing back onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Hot skin pressed together, and they both moaned into their kiss. Philippe thrust both hands into Rafe’s wild hair, holding him prisoner as he ravaged his mouth. He ate up every groan and whimper as if he were starved. Rafe’s wonderful hands roamed his body, massaging away tension and leaving muscles loose.
Breaking off the kiss, Philippe wandered slowly down Rafe’s taut body, nipping and licking at whatever bits of delicious flesh presented themselves. His tongue dove into the hollow of his collarbone and swirled around one nipple, bringing it to a hard peak before moving to the other.
Rafe stretched out his arms to his sides, fisting the sheets. His head was thrown back, pressed into the mattress while the tendons in his neck trembled and strained, as if he couldn’t bear to hold still another second.
“Dearest, you’re making me feel quite selfish,” Rafe said in a harsh voice.
Philippe’s hand tightened on Rafe’s thick thighs while his tongue swirled around his adorable belly button. “It would be quite selfish of you to steal away my fun.”
“Perish the—fuck, Philippe!”
Philippe nearly chuckled as he managed to break Rafe’s train of thought while sucking one of his balls into his mouth.