didn’t hide the pain from him when he looked into her eyes. She wanted to fall into his arms and feel them around her, holding her, taking away all her hurt and tiredness. She wanted him to make her feel safe as he used to.
“Take it off,” he said with a nod to her jacket.
She obeyed, silently removing the coat and letting it drop to the floor. It was ruined now. The sight of it torn and wrecked seemed to break the shackles and smash the defences around her heart. Reality sank in swiftly and painfully. She didn’t want to spend eternity without Jascha.
Loving him and not having him would make eternity hell and she didn’t think she could bear it anymore.
“Who did this?” His voice was soft, as gentle as his touch.
Her eyes followed his fingers as he rolled her sleeve up to reveal the wound on her arm. He breathed in sharply and she wondered if the cut was worthy of such a reaction. She looked at it, taking in the deep gash and the charred skin where the stake had rested long enough to burn her. She’d had worse injuries but something about the careful, tender way that Jascha was treating it made her feel as though this little scratch was life threatening. He seemed to see it that way.
His grip on her arm was so light, barely touching her as he cradled it and his thumb brushed along the skin beside the wound. Her focus shifted to his face, drinking in the sight of all that concern directed at her. There was so much love and affection in his expression and all of his actions. It melted her heart, releasing the last of the chains around it and leaving her free to accept her love for him.
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, from feeling light and wholly painless because of how he was acting. It was endearing, beautiful. She had never felt so loved.
“The vampire hunter. I hurt him too. I know I can defeat him now.”
“This needs to be sealed,” he said in a low voice and glanced at her with eyes that clearly expressed his feelings.
Marise nodded and then closed her eyes when he changed into his vampire guise and lowered his head to her arm. She tensed at the first tentative stroke of his tongue against the wound and then sighed when he began to clean and seal the cut in earnest. The kisses he pressed against her arm didn’t go unnoticed. Her chest ached and stomach flipped with each one. She wanted to cry, and laugh, and tell herself that she was crazy for keeping away for him for so long. Fifty years of robbing herself of this pleasure, of the warmth of his affection and the comfort of his embrace. She must have been insane.
He licked her arm again and then pulled away. She frowned at the loss of contact and opened her eyes to look at him. He was smiling, evidently satisfied by the effect he’d had on her. She smiled in return and then her expression shifted to confusion when his smile faded into a sorrowful look.
She kept her eyes locked on his face as he wrapped a bandage around her arm, pinning it in place. He smoothed it, trailing his fingers down to her hand and holding it.
“I know an apology won’t fix things between us, Mari, but I am sorry,” he said and then looked up into her eyes. She hated all the hurt she could see in them. She had made him suffer for fifty years because she hadn’t had the bravery to tell him, to admit to things and take part of the responsibility for what had happened. “I missed you. I thought about committing some offence so you’d have to come for me.”
She shook her head.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she said. “If you’d done that, I would’ve had to kill you.”
He smiled.
Reaching over, she ran trembling fingers over the bite marks on his neck. His gaze slid down to watch what she was doing. Could he feel how scared she was? Could he sense how nervous he made her now?
“They always looked good on you,” she whispered.
He frowned and met her eyes again. “They’re my sire’s marks... yours are the other side.”
She hesitated and
“Take it off,” he said with a nod to her jacket.
She obeyed, silently removing the coat and letting it drop to the floor. It was ruined now. The sight of it torn and wrecked seemed to break the shackles and smash the defences around her heart. Reality sank in swiftly and painfully. She didn’t want to spend eternity without Jascha.
Loving him and not having him would make eternity hell and she didn’t think she could bear it anymore.
“Who did this?” His voice was soft, as gentle as his touch.
Her eyes followed his fingers as he rolled her sleeve up to reveal the wound on her arm. He breathed in sharply and she wondered if the cut was worthy of such a reaction. She looked at it, taking in the deep gash and the charred skin where the stake had rested long enough to burn her. She’d had worse injuries but something about the careful, tender way that Jascha was treating it made her feel as though this little scratch was life threatening. He seemed to see it that way.
His grip on her arm was so light, barely touching her as he cradled it and his thumb brushed along the skin beside the wound. Her focus shifted to his face, drinking in the sight of all that concern directed at her. There was so much love and affection in his expression and all of his actions. It melted her heart, releasing the last of the chains around it and leaving her free to accept her love for him.
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, from feeling light and wholly painless because of how he was acting. It was endearing, beautiful. She had never felt so loved.
“The vampire hunter. I hurt him too. I know I can defeat him now.”
“This needs to be sealed,” he said in a low voice and glanced at her with eyes that clearly expressed his feelings.
Marise nodded and then closed her eyes when he changed into his vampire guise and lowered his head to her arm. She tensed at the first tentative stroke of his tongue against the wound and then sighed when he began to clean and seal the cut in earnest. The kisses he pressed against her arm didn’t go unnoticed. Her chest ached and stomach flipped with each one. She wanted to cry, and laugh, and tell herself that she was crazy for keeping away for him for so long. Fifty years of robbing herself of this pleasure, of the warmth of his affection and the comfort of his embrace. She must have been insane.
He licked her arm again and then pulled away. She frowned at the loss of contact and opened her eyes to look at him. He was smiling, evidently satisfied by the effect he’d had on her. She smiled in return and then her expression shifted to confusion when his smile faded into a sorrowful look.
She kept her eyes locked on his face as he wrapped a bandage around her arm, pinning it in place. He smoothed it, trailing his fingers down to her hand and holding it.
“I know an apology won’t fix things between us, Mari, but I am sorry,” he said and then looked up into her eyes. She hated all the hurt she could see in them. She had made him suffer for fifty years because she hadn’t had the bravery to tell him, to admit to things and take part of the responsibility for what had happened. “I missed you. I thought about committing some offence so you’d have to come for me.”
She shook her head.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she said. “If you’d done that, I would’ve had to kill you.”
He smiled.
Reaching over, she ran trembling fingers over the bite marks on his neck. His gaze slid down to watch what she was doing. Could he feel how scared she was? Could he sense how nervous he made her now?
“They always looked good on you,” she whispered.
He frowned and met her eyes again. “They’re my sire’s marks... yours are the other side.”
She hesitated and
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