I’ve also had her soft voice in my head all day, which seems to be as intimately close as two people can get without being physically inside each other.
I’ve subsequently spent half the day fighting a boner.
I’m frustrated as hell and have been growing steadily more pissed at myself for being such a dick to her in the past. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wonder if I should apologize again or make some gesture to grovel to her. Show I really mean it when I say I feel like a prize dick for trying to tear her down.
I don’t think I’d mind too much if she wanted me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. It’s not something I’ve tried before, but it seems like the sexiest fucking idea I’ve ever had in my head.
It’s not like I didn’t know I was attracted to her before today, or the past week, I guess. I just had other shit to focus on, like how I was gonna protect my brothers from having her raise their hopes and then set them on fire.
Having her around pissed me off. I didn’t trust her. And anger is easy to hold on to. It’s a good way to mask all the other shit.
If you’re pissed off, you’re not scared or vulnerable.
But I’m not pissed anymore.
Okay, I’m not entirely devoid of anger. I’ve not suddenly morphed into Mr. Cool. I’m... fuck, I’m a little pissed off that Silver forgave me so easily. Not just because I missed out on the hotness factor of repenting for all the shit I said. But mostly because it just shows how soft she is.
Gooey in the center.
One day, someone’s gonna notice her softness and try to squish her flat.
We both freeze as another vamp drops onto one of the basement couches and Silver grabs my wrist. The contact sends a lightning bolt through my arm and I try not to jerk away or make it too obvious that her touch has an electric effect on me.
“Look at this guy.”
I peer out of the air vents, wishing I was half the size I am. It’s too fucking cramped in here for a normal sized person, and I’m no one’s idea of regular sized.
The latest vamp to drop by is skinny, shaven-headed. Looks kind of like he’d stab you in your sleep. Dressed like a mob boss.
But it’s the faint scar that’s just visible on his neck that’s the tip-off.
Since vamps don’t scar easily, I wonder how the hell he wound up with it. But it also makes him pretty memorable.
“Fabian trusted this guy? He couldn’t look more skeezy if he tried,”Silver says.
I shrug and my arm brushes against her soft skin. “People lose their heads when they’re desperate.”
“Any update, Simpson?” Claudia asks.
“I’ve told you, it’s a slow process, but it’s gonna be worth it.” The guy’s voice is a long drawl, like he has zero shits to give. “When the little prince turns fully and you’ve got a rabid mage on the loose, you’ll see. They’re going to be begging for protection.”
“The damn process is so slow. Have you at least infected others? The head Nightshade, for example?”
What the fuck? These fucking vamps and their lack of morals.
There’s the telltale sound and scent of someone lighting a cigarette. “It’s not as simple as that,” Simpson replies. “It’s not like I’ve got a boatload of the tainted stuff like you guys do with your party drugs. He’ll infect plenty of others once he’s unleashed on the streets. Don’t you worry about that.”
My eyes meet Silver’s. This Simpson guy is definitely the vamp that gave Fabian the cursed blood. They can’t be talking about anything else, but it sounds like they don’t know he’s cured of the curse.
This is good.
Great, even. Since it sounds like this guy doesn’t have any more of the tainted blood. Or at least he’s not admitting it.
“We can’t let this guy walk out of this room,”I say.
Silver’s hand clenches where it’s still gripping my wrist. Seems she’s not too happy with that idea. But we can’t risk him having more tainted blood, or finding out Fabian’s not cursed.
It sounds like his entire plan was to turn Fabian into a feral monster and let him loose.
