His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

I blur between them, catch Aurelia up around the waist and try to trace, but I can’t focus. Abe’s fangs bite into my back, ripping my shoulder.

Aurelia throws a bubble of protection around both of us, and the vampire falls back.

“Hey,” two big guys round the corner. They’re huge and covered in tats—most prominently a wolf paw tattoo on their right shoulders. “You leeches aren’t welcome. Get the fuck outta here.”

Great. The werewolf patrol. I better get us out of here before they call Lucius, and the vampire king imprisons and tortures us all. There’s a reason I’ve been trying to lay low. Vampire politics are bad for my health. Bad, as in deadly.

I close my eyes and calm myself, picturing Aurelia’s living room as I pull her into the ether.

When we materialize, I feel her tremble.

Fuck. I almost lost her back there. I haven’t been so afraid since...probably since I was mortal.

“What the hell were you doing?” I snap. “First of all, I told you I didn’t want you walking around alone at night. Secondly, I told you to use your bubble and run.” I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom where I drop her on the bed. “When I give you an order, I expect you to obey it, especially when it’s for your own damn safety!”

She lies still, watching me with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you go when I told you to?” I demand.

“I wasn’t going to leave you!”

Something painful turns in my chest. Was it just a few hours ago I’d believed her to be selfish?

I was dead wrong.

“I am a vampire, love. Immortal. My wounds heal unless I am decapitated or I bleed out. You, my dear fairy, are not. And those vampires wanted to drain you for your power. I warned you of that.”

Tears shine in her eyes, and I freeze.

Oh hell. A wave of her emotion rolls over me—regret? Despair?

I drop on the bed beside her to cradle her in my arms. She burrows against me, clinging to my neck and nestling her face against my chest. I brush her tears away as I stroke her back. “Shh, love. You’re safe now. Did those thugs scare you?”

She shakes her head, pulling back to look at me, tears still spilling out of her eyes and dripping down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you did that.”

What did I do? I rack my brain. “Those vampires--”

“I don’t care about them. I’m talking about you!” She slaps her hand against my sternum. “You walked away again!” She strikes me again. “You always just disappear, and I’m left trying to figure out what I did wrong and how to fix it.” She smacks my chest again and again, saying, “I don’t. Want. You. To leave.”

I catch her two wrists and hold them in one hand against my chest. “Okay,” I whisper hoarsely, her distress shaking me. I thumb away another tear and try to tuck her head back into me, but she pulls her head free.

She seems to gather herself. “I’m sorry I was a….a brat about the blood.” She looks up with brave humility.

I let out a short bark of surprised laughter, not expecting such an apology. Of course, I hadn’t expected her to slap me, either. “You weren’t a brat.” All my previous irritation dissolves.

“Yes, I was. You needed to drink, didn’t you?”

I nod, once, not liking to admit any weakness, even to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t you fed?”

I draw a breath. “I guess I’m just a one-woman kind of man.” I shrug. “I always have been.”

She blinks up at me, the gold flecks in her eyes glimmering. “Do you mean…” she trails off, looking uncertain. “Because it’s sexual?”

“Yes. I’ve only wanted your blood since the night I first met you.”

“And I refused to give it to you.” Her voice is soft with regret.

I stroke her hair back from her face and put a finger under her chin to bring her gaze back to my face. “You were just scared.”

She swallows and nods. “I’m not anymore. I’m yours to take as you please.”

Her words go straight to my cock. I cradle her head and lay a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ve been telling you that since the day we met.”

She twines her arms around my neck and starts to bury her face in my shoulder, then jerks back with a gasp. “Oh my God,” she says.

I glance down at the dried blood from my cut. I pull my shirt back to show her. “Look at it,” I urge. “Vampires heal very quickly. You see how the flesh is already knit back together? Never worry about me.” I lift her in my arms as I stand. “I’ll take a shower. You need to get to bed. Please call in sick tomorrow. I don’t want you showing up to work on three hours’ sleep.”