Thunder and Lightning

He’d forced himself away from her. Was shocked he’d found the resolve.

Then again…not so much.

Because something wasn’t right.

The notion had registered with lightning-quick speed in his mind, flashing like the biggest, brightest beacon. And it still haunted him.

Something’s not right!

His gaze landed on Bev, curled up in the middle of the bed, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in staccato beats. Her eyes were wild with orgasmic delight yet tinged with confusion and uncertainty. Perhaps even a hint of fear. She stared at him like he was some untamable, rabid animal.

And in some ways, he was.

But no… He wasn’t advancing on her, wasn’t even remotely close to attacking her. Ravaging her. Draining her.

Because something most definitely was not right!

“Cane?” Her tone was soft, tentative. So as to not startle him? No sudden movements and all that?

He almost laughed, but this situation was much too serious to be comical. He had no intention of hurting her.

“You’re safe,” he said to placate her, calm her.

She shifted on the bed, came up slowly on her knees. Her eyes were glued to his as though she were afraid to look away for even the briefest of moments.

Shit, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m sorry about the teeth… It was an accident, I swear.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “It’s nothing, Cane. Just a scratch. I wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t…flown across my bedroom.”

And that’s when it all fell into place for her.

He could see the dramatic change in her pale eyes. The realization, the shock, the…acceptance? No, that couldn’t be right.

He shook his head. “Bev—”

“You’re not…normal,” she said, her voice tentative again, though it held a hint of something akin to excitement. Again, that couldn’t be right.

What the fuck was going on here?

She climbed off the bed. Still moving warily. Still on guard, preparing herself in the event he advanced on her.

Stepping around the tall metal post on one side of the footboard, she said, “Your skin, your eyes, your strength, your reaction to my blood. Everything about you is…different.”

“Bev,” he tried again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“You’re a vampire.” Her tone was bold and confident now.

Cane’s mind reeled.

How the hell…?

And what did it matter how she’d figured it out? All that mattered was that she knew.