Newborn

PART THIRTEEN

It was clear as day that she did not return those feelings, for her blue eyes streamed with something more along the lines of pure hatred. Yet I still couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her. We continued upstairs and down the long, dark hallway. Again, he led, and I followed behind him, feeling like his shadow.

"So, do you believe me now?" he asked.

My brows tugged together. "About the vampire thing?"

"No, about us being magical unicorns," he replied. "Yes, the vampire thing."

I slowed in my step. "I don't know, I guess so. I mean, I don't know how else to explain all of this. But I still expect to wake up from this nightmare." I shrugged. "Or maybe I really did die, and this is hell."

Something about that amused him because he snickered as he opened the door to his room, and then he signalled that I go inside.

"When I turned you, it created a bond between us."

It occurred to me that I had heard him use that term before. "A what now?"

He walked in long strides toward his wardrobe and started to unbutton his shirt, right in front of me. I turned away instinctively, but then he continued talking, and my gaze curiously dragged back toward him.

"A bond," he said, his French tone like melted chocolate, smooth and alluring. I swallowed sharply, struggling to focus on his words. "Vital moments of my life, you saw them when I turned you. Since you were human, it would have been in flashes, quick and hard to decode, but it's all there . . . in your mind, and though you didn't know vampires existed before now, the blood in your veins—my blood—will force you to accept what we are."

There was something about his tone, something grave like he believed we were something different than just vampires. "And what are we, exactly?"

Darien faced the mirror, and in his reflection, I saw his devil-may-care smirk. "Monsters," he murmured underneath his breath.

He slid his black cotton shirt down his broad arms and my eyes followed as this hunger started to build inside of me. His abdomen was perfectly sculptured, with a strong indent of a V-line that directed my eyes down further, toward his package.

I felt my hands start to tremble with sweet adrenaline as I watched him, breathless, and my blood seemed to race. I didn't know what was coming over me, but I couldn't look away.

As he turned slightly, still topless, I noticed an ink tribal tattoo that lined his left arm. It looked like the thorn of a rose, as it wrapped around his bicep and forearm, creating a sleeve of inked skin.

When his dark eyes flickered up in the mirror, to glance back at me, I cleared my throat and averted my gaze.

"Helena, Helena, Helena," he made a tsk-tsk sound, but I was too focused on the way his tongue wrapped around my name.

I gulped. "Yes?"

"I think I should make a few things clear," he said, as he abandoned his post by the mirror to appear before me.

He moved abnormally fast, like the speed of light. In the blink of an eye, his half-naked body was pressed against mine. My breath held in my throat as I met the nearest wall with a light thud. The weight of his masculine body was enough to pin me down. I stared up at him, drinking in those dark bedroom eyes before my gaze slowly lowered toward his lips.

"I realise that as your Maker, you may feel some . . . sexual urges around me. You should know that I am not 'boyfriend' material. I will never return those feelings, and even though I am a compulsive flirt, it means absolutely nothing."