Page 68 of Vampire's Choice

Wondering why he acted the way he did, being his own worst enemy, waking up so fighting mad…

“‘Guess it’s just the cowboy in me,’” she sang softly. The restlessness, the heart of stone… The smile left her as her hands tightened on him.

Merc listened. By the time the last note finished, he had a faint frown on his face, and an unexpected opinion. “It’s you, too.”

He cupped his hand behind her neck, drawing her up onto her toes, making everything tighten. Her hands landed on his chest and hip to steady herself. His body twitched under her touch. “How so?” she managed.

“There’s not a line I haven’t drawn that you haven’t crossed.”

“That one applies as much to you as to me. Just ask Marcellus and Yvette.”

She’d made a mistake. He didn’t like being reminded he had a keeper. He let her go and stepped back. Maybe she’d be compounding the mistake with her next question, but fuck it.

“Did you seek me out because you’re hungry, and you thought about what I said?”

His expression darkened. “You think that’s the only reason I’d come to you?”

“You tell me. I haven’t seen you much.”

“No.” He stepped closer again, though this time he didn’t touch her. She wanted him to, and she knew he could tell. He liked making her want. Not to be pointlessly mean. But to be pointedly mean, holding out of reach what was his to decide to give. “But you’ve felt me, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” They stared at one another.

“Would you like to sit in one of the places where I watch you?”

At her nod, he slipped an arm around her waist, letting her put hers around his neck. As she did whenever he gave her the opportunity, she played with the short hair there, liking the brush of it against her knuckles. Her eyes half closed in bliss at that lovely lift feeling, the wind from his wings brushing tendrils of her hair back from her brow. A few moments later, they were perched in a longleaf pine located in a cluster of them on the southwestern side of the camp. The tree offered a panoramic view of the Circus compound, the road leading into the small Georgian town nearest them, and the hills it disappeared into. “Wow. Good line of sight.”

“One of my jobs is to monitor the area from the high ground.”

So not just a lurker. He was a scout and camp guard. Marcellus and Yvette were good at employing their people’s strengths.

Merc sat against the trunk, one leg resting along a substantial branch, his other foot braced against another, a triangle of stability. It allowed her to settle on his thigh and prop her feet against his opposite leg. His wings had folded behind him, cushioning his back, the tips trailing down either side of the trunk.

He slid a finger into the V of her T-shirt, tracing her breast above the hold of her bra. “You don’t sample human food as much as other vampires do.”

“A lot of vampires like the sampling thing. I don’t do as much of it, unless it’s a formal dinner where the host has prepared something. Don’t want to be rude.”

“Blood tastes better?”

“Yeah. But I really like certain things, and I can only have a little of them. Having a little can be as bad as having none, if you know what I mean.”

He studied her. “Perhaps. What things?”

“Well, Kohana… He was my father’s right hand, a second mark who was like a human uncle to me and Adan. He made this stoneground corn bread and added stuff to it. He’d make it for me when I was sad, or to celebrate, or just for the hell of it. He’d cut it into little heart-shaped cubes. He bought the cutter special for me.”

She paused, cleared her throat. “After he passed… If I ever sat down to a loaf of it again, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I’d eat all of it, and be sick for days. Which is a moot point, because if he isn’t the one making it, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“Vampires can get sick from human food?”

She gave him a curious look. “How do you not know that? You said you’ve watched vampires sample food.”

“Yes. I didn’t know that was why. I assumed it was because vampires simply prefer blood.”

He hadn’t asked anyone. Did he feel questions made him vulnerable, by exposing ignorance? Or was his focus primarily on the information necessary to safeguard his own survival or respect the boundaries that would keep him from becoming a further target?

He'd already revealed enough about why he didn’t want them to know about his visit to the island to suggest his presence here was like being under house arrest. If he wanted to leave Marcellus and the Circus, could he? Or was that death sentence his only other option?

“I’ll figure out what other favorites you might have,” he decided. “I like the idea of feeding you and leaving you wanting more.”