“Nhn” came back at him. “Zat you?”
“Shayna?”
“Uh-huh. I feel like I could sleep for a year.”
“Me, too. Never felt like this before. Almost drugged.” Even his speech was slightly slurred.
Slowly he opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling of his New Zealand cavern bedroom. This was good. He’d awakened in the same place he’d gone to sleep. He just didn’t understand why he felt this way.
He tried to put it into words and finally stumbled across the reality that he felt peaceful, honest-to-God peaceful—which made no sense at all except that Shayna had agreed to stay and she’d put on his blood-chain.
She’d told him that the vision was personal, meant only for her. He got that and didn’t press her. After all, the only thing he really cared about was right here, still pressing on his chest, her arm slung across his abdomen and dangerously close to his wake-up erection.
He slid his arm around her shoulders.
He could get used to this, waking up slowly, Shayna in his arms.
She wore a thin dark-purple nightgown that went well with her almost white-blond hair.
The chain at his neck was very quiet, an indication she was still in a sleep state, so he let her be.
The trouble was, his arousal wasn’t diminishing, not even a little, and that surprised him. Instead desire for her suddenly rolled through him like a wave lifting a boat.
“Anything wrong?”
“Hard to explain. I’m trying to understand.”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “You smell wonderful, Marius, have I told you that?”
“You asked about it.” Oh, God, now his gums vibrated and dammit, he couldn’t keep his fangs from descending. None of this had been done consciously. His hips rocked.
Shayna finally lifted her head to look at him and her eyes went wide. “Your fangs? Do you need to feed?”
What he wanted was to push her onto her back, drive between her legs, then drink from her throat for about an hour. He felt almost maniacal with sudden need.
He gritted his teeth, then finally said, “I need the bathroom.”
“I can feed you if you want.”
“No.” The word came out harsher than he’d intended. “I’m sorry, I’m not myself right now.”
She rolled off him to flop back against the pillows. He’d worn pajamas, something he’d done strictly for Shayna’s benefit. He got up and made a beeline for the bathroom.
But he’d only taken three long, quick steps when the chains warned him that if he went farther he’d most likely land on his ass.
“Hold up,” Shayna called out. “The chains are pulling.”
He stopped up short and glanced at her over his shoulder. He was still making a tent out of his pajama bottoms. “Sorry. I forgot. It’s that proximity thing I told you about just before we went to bed.” The chains wouldn’t let them be farther than ten feet apart at any given time, one of the reasons they’d shared a bed.
“Right.” She slid from bed and given that her silk nightgown showed a lot of cleavage, he averted his gaze. He needed a shower. A cold one.
As soon as she drew close, he continued on. With Shayna waiting by the sink, he went into the small space that housed the toilet. He had a hard time taking care of business, knowing that Shayna was right there, until he heard the water running and what sounded like Shayna splashing water on her face.
Okay, that helped.
He shook his head. In all the concern and frustration about getting her to stay, he’d forgotten the logistics the chains would require.
When he finished, she still looked sleepy-eyed but beautiful. She’d combed her hair, straightening a careful part.