Page 22 of Guardians for the Vamp
“You like me?” Layla asks, a smile spreading across her beautiful face.
“Yes, and I worry that if I stay here, we’ll never leave your bedroom.”
“That’s okay—”
“It’s not okay. In fact, it’s a bad idea.”
“Rude,” Layla grumbles with a pout, crossing her arms.
“You know what I mean. You can’t have distractions either. You’re not only the new vampire queen, but now you have this committee to lead. It’s a lot of responsibility.”
That adorable bunny nose scrunches as my words sink in. She knows I’m right.
“Fine. I guess I see your point,” she says and sighs.
Layla grabs her phone to look at the time.
“We still have a few hours before sunrise. Do you want to watch a movie?”
I pause before answering because I literally just had this thought—how all I want to do is cuddle on a couch with someone and watch a movie. I try to remember the last time I let myself enjoy the company of another being.
It’s been too long.
Even on my nights off, I’m typically out walking the city, sitting in the park reading a book, or going to a nightclub that Locheran drags me to. I’ll watch documentaries by myself, but sitting on a couch, curled up with another being, while some cheesy rom-com plays is not something I've done before.
Layla’s smile falters at my hesitation. “Right. Bad idea.”
“Itisa bad idea.”
“And it’s not part of your job description...” She bites her lip, her thoughts clearly turning mischievous. “But neither is having your cock in my mouth so...”
I narrow my eyes at her, and she holds up her hands in innocence.
“Fine,” I relent. “One movie.”
She claps and turns to her cabinets. Her excitement for such a mundane activity makes me wonder justhowlong it’s been since she’s entertained. Does Millie no longer come over for a girls’ night? A movie night? Just to hang out? I suppose the former vampire queen has been preoccupied the past couple of months with her new fated mate.
Layla excuses herself and disappears out of the kitchen at vampire speed and is gone for less than a minute before she returns, now dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and baggy pants. She pours herself a glass of wine, and I refill my water then join her in the living room where she scrolls through movie and TV titles on a streaming app.
“Oooh,” she says, finding something that piques her interest. “Is It Cake?! Have you ever watched this?”
She turns her head, biting her lip, anticipating my answer.
“No.”
That was the right thing to say because she nearly jumps with joy.
“It’s so good. These bakers make cakes, but the cakes resemble different objects, like a suitcase or a shoe or a stuffed animal, and they have to trick the judges into thinking it’s real!”
Her words are fast in her excitement, and I’m not sure I understand the gist of the show, but she presses play andsits in the middle of her white sectional couch. She pats the cushion next to hers.
When I hesitate, she pouts. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
I’m struggling to resist this woman.
When I sit, she leans into me, and I instinctively wrap my arm around her shoulders.
