Read Online Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) by Emily Rose - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Rose
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and saw that his white teeth flashed in the relative darkness.
“That’s why I’m often alone,” he told her, softly, his smile fading. “I frighten people.” There was something unexpectedly vulnerable in this confession, and all trace of cocky sureness had so vanished from his voice that it was oddly unfamiliar.
A thousand questions swirled in Cecelia’s head as she looked at the man sitting next to her. He was confessing this unique experience, of being a vampire, of being a frightening predator of nightmare and horrific legend, and yet he was expressing the most human and touching of emotions, baring a kind of pain that proved he was more of a man than a bloodthirsty beast of myth.
“Well,” she said, finding herself unable to ask any of her questions, “Maybe you don’t spend enough time around the right kind of people.”
He smiled wryly at that. “Perhaps you’re right.”
The car halted smoothly, and he helped her out to stand on the sidewalk. They were at, of course, the most expensive restaurant in Chicago, and naturally upon being told of their reservation, the maitre’d led them to the best table in the house. Cecelia could hardly take in the entire view of the glittering Chicago skyline at nighttime, and silently stared out the window, transfixed, as they sat at the table. She only realized how rude she was being when Andrew said:
“You know, it looks completely different to me. I wish you could see it how I do.”
She shot him a confused glance.
“I can see better at night than during the daytime,” he explained, as calmly as if he was explaining that it might snow again tomorrow.
Cecelia attempted a passable affectation of his offhanded demeanor. “Oh. So it looks like daytime out there, now?” This is something to add to my ‘distinguishing characteristics’ section.
“No, not at all. It’s still nighttime. But the bright lights are that much brighter, the buildings that much clearer. I can see for miles. One of the benefits, I suppose.” He gazed out the window, too, and Cecelia took the opportunity to study his face. It wasn’t one that betrayed emotions easily, she’d come to realize. Except for cockiness, amusement, and interest, she hadn’t seen anything more complex cross his face. Now, she saw that though he seemed perfectly calm and open, his expression unworried, his brow unlined and mouth soft, his right hand was clenched into a fist on the white tablecloth.
Impulsively, before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Cecelia placed her hand on top of it. She was surprised to feel some of the tenseness there lessen instantly. He looked at her much the way he had when she had touched his jaw the night before – with confusion and surprise at the tenderness.
I can’t ask him about his life, Cecelia understood at once. At least, not in the way that I have been. These were clearly thoughts that caused him pain, and if she kept asking, it would amount to nothing more than painful digging. And clearly I can’t tell what causes him pain, either. Not if just talking about the night sky bothers him so much.
“Tell me about this evening?” she asked, struggling to break the silence. “The clan thing? Is that a clan of … your family?” This seemed to ease him a little further, as he was simply no longer the sole subject of the conversation. Is he just as uncomfortable with himself as I am with myself? Cecelia had a chance to wonder before he answered.
“We don’t really have families in the normal sense. We’re usually … loners. We don’t work well together in groups because, I don’t know, I guess it’s
“That’s why I’m often alone,” he told her, softly, his smile fading. “I frighten people.” There was something unexpectedly vulnerable in this confession, and all trace of cocky sureness had so vanished from his voice that it was oddly unfamiliar.
A thousand questions swirled in Cecelia’s head as she looked at the man sitting next to her. He was confessing this unique experience, of being a vampire, of being a frightening predator of nightmare and horrific legend, and yet he was expressing the most human and touching of emotions, baring a kind of pain that proved he was more of a man than a bloodthirsty beast of myth.
“Well,” she said, finding herself unable to ask any of her questions, “Maybe you don’t spend enough time around the right kind of people.”
He smiled wryly at that. “Perhaps you’re right.”
The car halted smoothly, and he helped her out to stand on the sidewalk. They were at, of course, the most expensive restaurant in Chicago, and naturally upon being told of their reservation, the maitre’d led them to the best table in the house. Cecelia could hardly take in the entire view of the glittering Chicago skyline at nighttime, and silently stared out the window, transfixed, as they sat at the table. She only realized how rude she was being when Andrew said:
“You know, it looks completely different to me. I wish you could see it how I do.”
She shot him a confused glance.
“I can see better at night than during the daytime,” he explained, as calmly as if he was explaining that it might snow again tomorrow.
Cecelia attempted a passable affectation of his offhanded demeanor. “Oh. So it looks like daytime out there, now?” This is something to add to my ‘distinguishing characteristics’ section.
“No, not at all. It’s still nighttime. But the bright lights are that much brighter, the buildings that much clearer. I can see for miles. One of the benefits, I suppose.” He gazed out the window, too, and Cecelia took the opportunity to study his face. It wasn’t one that betrayed emotions easily, she’d come to realize. Except for cockiness, amusement, and interest, she hadn’t seen anything more complex cross his face. Now, she saw that though he seemed perfectly calm and open, his expression unworried, his brow unlined and mouth soft, his right hand was clenched into a fist on the white tablecloth.
Impulsively, before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Cecelia placed her hand on top of it. She was surprised to feel some of the tenseness there lessen instantly. He looked at her much the way he had when she had touched his jaw the night before – with confusion and surprise at the tenderness.
I can’t ask him about his life, Cecelia understood at once. At least, not in the way that I have been. These were clearly thoughts that caused him pain, and if she kept asking, it would amount to nothing more than painful digging. And clearly I can’t tell what causes him pain, either. Not if just talking about the night sky bothers him so much.
“Tell me about this evening?” she asked, struggling to break the silence. “The clan thing? Is that a clan of … your family?” This seemed to ease him a little further, as he was simply no longer the sole subject of the conversation. Is he just as uncomfortable with himself as I am with myself? Cecelia had a chance to wonder before he answered.
“We don’t really have families in the normal sense. We’re usually … loners. We don’t work well together in groups because, I don’t know, I guess it’s
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