Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(66)

“Maybe he’s right.”

“And maybe not.” Christian peeled off my socks and tossed them over the edge of the tub. “It’s what makes you and me a force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t have fought off that many men had you not healed me.”

“With my blood,” I added, staring at the bloodstains on my pants as I drew my knees up even closer. “Blood is addictive, and you said yourself that Vampires shouldn’t be sharing it.”

Christian licked his lips. “Rest assured, I don’t crave you in the wee hours of the night.”

I flicked a glance up at the same time he looked at me, and butterflies tickled my stomach. “Nothing whets your appetite?”

He smirked darkly. “I wouldn’t go that far, Precious. But the things I crave have nothing to do with blood. I haven’t had bloodlust since I was a youngling.”

“When you gave me your blood, I could taste your desire. You don’t need to lie.”

He bent his arm and leaned his head against his index finger. Light played on his shadowy face, and he averted his eyes. “Yours doesn’t taste like other Vampire blood. Maybe it has to do with your being mixed, but it has a unique flavor I’ve never known before.” He waggled his brows. “Worry not. I’m a man who can control my urges.”

I snorted. “Except for sex.”

“Haven’t had much of that lately either.”

I tucked my hair behind one ear. “What was she like?”

“Who?”

“The woman you previously worked for. The one who… didn’t need your services anymore. I’m good at reading between the lines.”

He pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side. “She found herself a big pussy to latch on to.”

I quirked a brow.

Christian straightened his arm and drummed his fingers on the edge of the tub. “She mated with a Chitah. And I didn’t love her, for feck’s sake. I just… She just reminded me of that connection. Maybe it was her drinking my blood that brought out those feelings.”

“Is that something you normally do with your clients?” I smiled impishly and bumped legs with him. “You probably didn’t have many women hire you to protect them, so the whole caveman instinct kicked in. I think it’s understandable, but you can stop playing bodyguard when we’re out on a job. I’m not a client.”

Christian barked out a laugh. “You’re an entirely different woman, comparable to none. Especially being as new as you are. Rarely have I seen someone not born into our world acclimate so well. You’re tough, fearless—”

“Pretty? I bet she was pretty.”

“Aye, she had a soft face. Her hair wasn’t as black as yours, but her skin was simply flawless. She had the complexion of a Vampire even though—”

“She wasn’t a Vampire?”

“Mage.”

“So much for sticking to your own kind, Mr. Poe. Good to know. Anyhow, it doesn’t sound like she was your type.”

“And what type is that?”

“B negative?”

We both chuckled.

“She wanted to be tough, but she wasn’t born that way.”

I pulled my arms inside the tub and put them on my lap. “So you want a tough girl? Someone to bend you over her knee and give you a spanking? What a naughty boy you are.”

His cheeks flushed. “Put a cork in it. I don’t want a relationship. She just reminded me of my humanity.”

“Ah. The pesky thing you keep trying to kill. You act as if caring about someone will ruin your reputation.”

He pinched his beard, deep in thought. “I’ve seen too many men lose their lives for a four-letter word. If the fates gave us immortality, it wasn’t for us to waste on such a frivolous emotion. That’s not the Vampire way.”

Christian’s hand stroking my ankle belied his words. He clearly craved physical affection. Maybe that was why he engaged in debauchery—to have that connection with another person. The same craving I felt whenever he touched me so tenderly.

“Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter. She wasn’t the biggest mistake in my life.”

Were the women he had sex with a means to make him forget that he actually had a heart and had made the mistake of listening to it once or twice? Thinking about what went on inside Christian’s head had become not only a pastime of mine, but a means of torture.

“Should I cook dinner?” I offered.

He gave me a crooked smile. “If you enjoy the suffering of others, by all means.”

“Don’t you ever get hungry, even for blood?”

“No.”

“So you just live in a state of nothingness? Never hungry, never full.”

He scratched his scruff, a sign he was hiding something.

“What?” I nudged him with my foot. “Tell me.”

“We didn’t have exotic fruits in Ireland. When I came here, you ate whatever was local. It wasn’t until years later that I began noticing strange fruit. Watermelon fascinated me. Such a hard exterior with ugly markings, and yet when you sliced it open, it was gorgeous. Juicy and bright red.” He licked his lips. “I’d never tasted anything like it. Every so often, I crave watermelon.”