“Are. You take my breath away, Sydney.”
“You don’t have any to breathe.” But he could tell he was teasing from the way she dipped her head, allowing her swing of dark hair to fall across her face in the manner he’d just described.
His fingers ached to scrape back her midnight locks until he exposed the vulnerable line of her throat. Then he’d sink his fangs into her flesh and take from her as he’d sipped from her wrist, not stopping until he’d finally made her his.
But that wasn’t the answer. Never mind the very real possibility of death—un
less he and Sydney went into hiding, and what sort of life would that be for her?—if she didn’t come willingly, he’d never know if he’d ever really had her at all.
“You’re a little vixen, you know that?”
“No.” Now her teasing smile bloomed beautifully. “I’m a vampire. And don’t you forget it.”
Joy coursed through his veins, as syrupy thick as the blood she’d given him. “Since when—” his voice wasn’t steady, so he cleared his throat and tried again “—do you believe that?”
“It’s not a matter of belief, is it? I am one whether I admit it or not.”
If only that were true. If she were already a vampire, he wouldn’t have to think about her being sired by his best friend. She could stay like this, caught between two worlds, and it wouldn’t matter to him. He’d love her regardless. But now, if she chose to embrace what he’d longed for her to accept, he’d be, in essence, sharing her permanently with Lucas.
She eased Emily’s head onto his knees, carefully supporting her head. She still hadn’t stirred. “Is Luke at home?”
“Actually, no, he’s not. He’s away on business.”
And thank the gods for that. He’d waited until Lucas’s plane had taken off before he’d gone after Sydney, on the off chance that she would come home with him. Or more likely, if he’d dragged her to his man-cave like the oversexed vampire he was.
He didn’t miss the relief that flowed into her eyes. “For how long?”
“A week.”
“A week,” she repeated. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do.”
His lips twitched. How he’d missed her. “Do tell. What are we going to do?”
“We’ll take Emily back to your place. I’ll stay with her. We’ll take Luke’s bedroom. Luke’s bed,” she added pointedly, rising.
“Together?” He wasn’t sure if he liked that idea.
“She’ll probably do nothing but sleep for a while, right?”
“Probably.”
“And if she wakes, you’ll know it.” She gathered some wet paper towels and did a quick clean up job on the blood spatter on the floor, then disposed of the waste and returned to his side. “Now help me get her up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rather than assist her in her fumbling attempts to lift Emily without disturbing a hair on her head, he simply scooped the other woman into his arms. He glanced at the gleaming black bags of coffee that lined the shelf in front of the cash register. “You still sell that Kenyan dark roast?”
“Of course.” Smiling briefly, Sydney picked up two bags of coffee on her way to collect her purse. She dug out her wallet and carefully counted bills before depositing them in the cash register. Then she hurried ahead of him to hold open the door.
“You owe me $19.50,” she said as he passed. “Plus tax.”
He had to laugh. “Put it on my tab.”
Chapter Twelve
It had been all well and good to suggest spending time at Kellan’s, except for one vital problem. Being trapped in close proximity didn’t exactly give her a lot of mental headspace for her to come to a rational decision about their relationship. The lust he aroused in her was another issue, but she’d sublimated her need for sex by raiding the meat freezer the minute they’d arrived. As if he’d somehow known her tastes, four prime Porterhouse steaks had been iced and waiting.
Feeding took her less than ten minutes. Showering and changing another twenty.
Now what?