Page 126 of Red Masquerade

My problems with Lucas seemed minuscule in comparison.

“You can’t be there,” he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me, knowing what I’d say.

“It’s too great a risk. You’re—” the next word stalled in his throat, but I heard it anyway.

Human. I was a human girl. I couldn’t outrun or fight a creature meant to prey on me.

“So, change me.” I stood, making my way over to him.

That fire burned in those gray irises. Want, need, lust for me, for my blood again.

I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling the dull thud of his heartbeat, each thump so spread out from the others that it was undeniable he was living and dead all at once.

The memory of his heart racing beneath me, pounding against his ribcage, his skin hot and damp, while we made love for the first time, came to me.

“Make me,” I whispered, looking up at him.

He shut his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t. Iwon’t.”

Disappointment crept in, but I did my best to hold it at bay. “Why not?”

When he opened his eyes, he looked right at my neck. His throat slid, likely remembering the taste of my blood, how he had almost done it that night in the sacristy. How I had been on the brink of death.

On the precipice of transformation.

He shook his head with much more conviction. “Now is not the time.”

I stepped away. “When will it ever be time?”

Though he moved silently, I knew he followed. “The transformation is too drawn out. It will take days for you to think clearly, months to be able to control yourself around humans.”

So we should have done it before.

I sighed and turned toward him again, my back hitting the bed frame. He stood not two feet behind me.

“I do not want to Make you for any reason other than I cannot bear to be without you,” he whispered, hand coming up to rest on my cheek. I leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his cool skin, the solid presence of him before me. “It shouldn’t be rushed.” His eyes darkened. “I want to take my time with you.”

I felt the ghost of his fangs at my neck, the phantom feeling of the prick of sharp teeth into my flesh. The pain, the fear, that melted into a pleasure so heady I wanted nothing else. I couldn’t imagine coming out on the other end, transformed. How did it feel to be so changed? How did it feel when every part of you died, only to come back with supernatural vigor?

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

“I cannot decide if you’re safer near me, or safer if I send you away,” he said, his thumb skittering across my cheekbone.

I looked into those dark pupils, seeing the torment peeking out there. “You must kill him. Before he gets to you first.” I couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen otherwise.

He nodded, his countenance grave. “The Sire will retaliate.”

“Is this not his retaliation? Sending Brancato to threaten you?” My fingers found his wrist, holding him there.

Vince was silent again, consumed by his suspicions, his unsurety of the coming hours.

“Why did you not tell me?” I asked, voice feeling small—not because I was afraid, but because speaking it aloud would cement the truth that Vince had been hiding this from me.

His eyes flicked up to me again, having settled on my lips. In his silence, he roamed my face, like he was memorizing every inch.

I could only stare at Adam, memorizing the lines of his face, the angle of his cheeks, the little indentation where his dimple would appear. The slightly chapped texture to his lips, the way his auburn hair curled behind his ears, with that cheap pomade. The shadow on his jaw at the end of the day. The way it felt against my lips, the slightly salty taste of his skin, the hardness of his muscles, the strength of his arms around me.