"Wake now," he said, brushing his palm lightly over her brow. "You have rested long enough, Dylan. You may wake up now."
He didn't need to stroke her cheek in order to lift the trance. He didn't need to let his fingertips linger on the velvety skin with its charming spray of diminutive, peachy freckles. He didn't need to play his touch along the delicate line of her jaw...but he couldn't resist taking his time.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The dark brown fringe of lashes lifted, and Rio was caught in the golden-green light of her gaze. Belatedly, he let his hand fall away from her face, but he could see that she knew he'd taken the liberty. She didn't flinch from him, just drew in a soft breath through her parted lips.
"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice small and thready from the long sleep he'd put her in. She wasn't aware of the trance or the travel. To her human mind, she was still in Reichen's Darkhaven, her consciousness put on pause in the moments before she and Rio left for Boston. "I'm afraid of where you're taking me..."
"You're already here," Rio told her. "We just arrived."
A look of panic bled into her eyes. "Where - "
"I've brought you to the Order's compound. You're in my quarters, and you're safe here."
She glanced around her, quickly taking in her surroundings. "You live here?"
"I used to." He stood up and backed away from the bed. "Make yourself comfortable. If you need anything at all, just ask. I'll see that you get it."
"How about a ride to my place in New York?" she said, her systems clearly coming back online now. "Or a GPS map of where you're currently holding me, and I'll find my own way home?"
Rio crossed his arms over his chest. "This is your home for now, Dylan. Because you are a Breedmate, you will be treated with all the respect due you. You'll have food and comfort, whatever you need. You won't be locked inside these apartments, but I assure you there is nowhere for you to run even if you tried. The compound is completely secure. My brethren and I will not harm you, but if you attempt to leave these quarters, we'll know before you take the first step into the corridor. If you try to escape, I will find you, Dylan."
She was quiet for a long second, watching him speak, measuring his words. "And then what will you do to me, hold me down and take a bite out of my throat?"
Cristo.
Rio felt all the blood drain from his head at the very thought. He knew she expected the act to be one of violence, but to him the image of pressing Dylan down beneath him as he pierced her tender skin with his fangs was one of total sensuality.
Arousal spiraled through him in a hot coil, all of it pooling in his groin.
He could still feel the silky warmth of her skin in his fingertips, and now another part of him craved to know her. He turned away, angered at his body's swift, urgent reaction to her.
"When I was in Jicin, I heard about a man who was attacked by a demon. An old farmer witnessed it, said this demon came down off a nearby mountain to feed. To drink human blood."
Rio stood there, staring at the door in front of him while Dylan spoke. He knew the night she referred to, remembered it clearly because it was the last time he'd allowed himself to feed. He'd gone more than two weeks without nourishment when he prowled onto a humble farm outside the forest at the base of the mountains.
He'd been starving and it had made him careless. An old man came upon him - saw the attack, saw Rio holding the human throat in his teeth. It was a reckless slip, and the interruption was likely the only thing that saved Rio's prey from an out of control feeding that might have meant his death. He stopped hunting that very night, afraid of what he might become.
"It was just an exaggeration, right?" Dylan's voice got a little quieter during his answering silence. "You didn't really do that. Did you, Rio?"
"Make yourself comfortable," he growled. As he started to leave, he grabbed her messenger bag that contained her laptop computer and digital camera. "I have things I need to do."
He didn't wait for her to protest or say anything more, just knew he had to get the hell out of there. A few brisk strides carried him to the open French doors and the living room beyond.
"Rosario...?"
He stopped walking at the sound of her voice behind him. Scowling, he pivoted his head to look back at her. She had lifted up on the bed at some point, now bracing herself on her elbows.
God, she looked deliciously disheveled like that, beautifully drowsy. It didn't take much to imagine this was how Dylan might look after a night of rousing sex. The fact that she was lying against the plum-colored silk of his bed only made the image all the more erotic.
"What?" His voice was a thick scrape of sound in his throat.
"Your name," she said, like he should know what she meant. She tilted her head as she studied him from across the room. "You told me that Rio is only part of your name, so I just wondered what it's short for. Is it Rosario?"
"No."
"Then, what is it?" When he didn't answer right away, her light brown brows knit together in impatience. "After everything else you've told me these past couple of days, what can it hurt to tell me the name you were born with?"
He scoffed inwardly, recalling all the things he'd been called since his birth. None of them were kind. "Why is it important to you to know?"