When Chloe finally made it out of the house – it was a very near thing on the doorstep when he kissed her goodbye, but the cold air bested his attempts to slide his hands under her sweater – Maxwell felt strangely…
“Lonely,” he said out loud and frowned. He didn’t get lonely. Maxwell was used to being alone, after all. Even when he had travelled the world with his friends, he had spent plenty of time by himself in one of his many homes. So why should he feel lonely now?
He knew the answer, of course. Because Chloe’s presence had warmed his house, filled it with joy, pleasure, and fun in a way that no one ever had. And when she left, the house felt bereft, even though he had been perfectly comfortable there before.
She really was something else. He was lucky – beyond lucky – that she wanted him. But Maxwell couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before his luck ran out.
After all, a man like him – an undead man – couldn’t hope to keep a woman like Chloe forever.