Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I’d never felt so out of control.
“I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet,” she drawled.
“I’m trying here.”
“You should have been trying before,” she ground out. “You know, earlier when you took me to meet your family and showed every single one of them how much you dislike me—which is pretty interesting since you’d spent the hours before that fucking my brains out!”
“It was a mistake,” I conceded, hiding my wince. The argument with my father had been one of the lowest moments in our relationship, and I’d done some pretty terrible shit in the past.
Reese turned back to me and stared at the small closet. It was full to bursting, with random pieces of fabric spilling out onto the bedroom carpet.
“Fine,” she said finally.
I let out a quiet breath of relief.
“Just so you know,” she said after a moment. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is that I don’t want to spend the next week feeling like I’m boiling from the inside, and I don’t trust that you won’t leave me here—completely fucked—whenever you decide you don’t like me again.”
“I didn’t want to leave the first time,” I pointed out.
“Wait in the car,” she ordered. “I’ll be out once I pack a bag.”
Instead of arguing with her, I strode out into the living room. I couldn’t make myself actually leave the apartment, but at least I’d be out of her way while she did whatever she needed to get ready. My focus had been distracted when I’d been in her home earlier, and I finally took the time to look around the room. The couches seemed to be the only thing in the entire apartment that were newer. The rest of it was worn and colorful. The coffee table was definitely mid-century unless it was an excellent replica. There was a hurricane lamp that was made long before Reese had even been born. I wondered where she’d found it. Books were tightly packed on a bookcase along one wall. There were too many of them to fit neatly on the shelves. She’d decorated her space to reflect her perfectly. Loud and chaotic.
I couldn’t say I hated it.
“I thought I told you to wait in the car,” she said flatly as she carried a duffel bag into the room.
It was as good of a time as any to tell the truth.
“I couldn’t make myself leave the apartment,” I replied evenly.
Her gaze shot to mine.
“Couldn’t leave the parking lot earlier,” I continued with a shrug.
“It’s—I—” She stuttered to a stop and took a deep breath. “Right. It’s just as bad for you.”
“In some ways,” I agreed. The physical symptoms were worse for her, but she didn’t have the Vampire instincts I was fighting.
“Well, let’s go,” she said, moving toward the door.
By the time we’d pulled out of her parking lot, the tension in my shoulders had dissipated to almost nothing. The burn in my gut was still there, churning, but the knowledge that she was coming home with me was making it easier to ignore.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to go without her blood. The thought of it made my skin crawl. I didn’t even know if I could stomach the banked blood anymore. I’d never heard of a mate rejecting the exchange, but surely it had happened before. I was beginning to realize that the stories I’d been told may have been exaggerated. There was no way that all mates not only ignored their instincts and waited for weeks or months for the human partner to decide whether or not they’d accept the mating, but that once they had, everything was great.
The mating bond had made me want to protect Reese from harm and crave her to a tortuous degree, but it hadn’t made me dislike her any less.
Or maybe it had. Maybe that was why I felt more accepting of her filthy mouth and chaotic presence all of a sudden.
“I don’t know anything about you,” Reese murmured sleepily as we pulled onto the freeway.
“It’ll come,” I assured her, reaching out. We had unlimited time to learn everything. Being in such close proximity without touching her was uncomfortable at best. It must’ve been bothering her, too, because she allowed me to lace her fingers with mine.
“When were you born?” she asked curiously.
“December 13, 1870,” I replied, glancing at her.
Her hand tightened, but she valiantly tried to hide her shock.
“No shit?”
A laugh rasped out of my mouth at her strangled words. I nodded.
“Jesus, you’re old.”
“I haven’t aged since around 1901,” I corrected.
“So your body is, like, thirty-one years old?” she said, turning toward me just a fraction.
“Why? Does it seem older?”
“No,” she replied instantly, making me laugh again.
“How old is your dad?” she asked in fascination.
“Old,” I replied, my lips twitching.
“Your mom can’t be more than twenty years older than you,” she mused. “Women married young back then.” She whistled. “This is so weird.”