Page 21 of Betrayed In Crimson
“Steak. Potatoes smothered in butter. Not that fake butter spread. I’m talking proper butter. Irish butter,” he sighs, his eyes lighting up at the memory.
“I mean, we drink from flesh. It’s not too dissimilar to steak,” I shrug.
“You were a vegetarian, weren’t you?” he arches his brow.
“No,” I laugh.
“Steak is nothing like drinking human blood,” he counters, shaking his head and looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Okay, okay,” I relent, holding my hands up in surrender. “You’re right, it’s not alike. I was trying to put a positive spin on our situation.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. “I don’t think living this life and the word ‘positive’ have ever been mentioned in the same sentence.”
I tilt my head to the side, watching his stern exterior melt away as the pungent blood relaxes him and the light-hearted conversation evaporates the darkness that always seems to surround him.
I take the bottle and drink from it. The warm buzz pulses through my veins. I hand him the bottle before I get to my feet.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll until I find the song. Black Sabbath’s War Pigs starts.
I set my phone down and begin bouncing lightly on my feet, my head bobbing to the beat. A wide smile spreads across my face.
“Dance with me,” I encourage Cain.
He shakes his head in amusement.
I pretend to play the drums as my body sways and moves to the music. Laughter escapes me as I dance around on the roof of the club, carefree. Just like I used to do in my room before…
Before everything.
“Satan laughing spreads his wings!” I sing before going hard on the air drums again. “Come on!” I urge.
Cain gets to his feet, planting his boots wide, his blood-red eyes dancing with amusement as he positions his hands like he’s holding a guitar and begins to mimic the guitar solo, head banging, his long hair whipping and flowing as he plays air guitar.
I can’t contain the laughter. The sheer silliness of one of the deadliest men I’ve ever met rocking out with me on the roof, playing air guitar, is too much.
As the song ends, both of us laughing, our gazes lock. The laughter slowly dies.
Aerosmith’s Dream On begins. The electricity between us grows. His smile slowly fades, as does mine.
My eyes flicker to his mouth, my brain flooding with desire. It could be the blood. It could be Evelynn’s comment earlier. It could be everything combined.
But I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his mouth on mine.
I take a step closer and so does he, our bodies now millimetres apart. He leans down, pausing, his lips ghosting over mine.
“This could be a huge mistake,” he whispers.
“I’m good at making mistakes,” I choke, pressing my mouth to his.
His hands cup my face, his fingers threading into my hair and gripping it tight in his fists as he deepens the kiss.
The kiss is good. It’s nice. But something doesn’t feel right.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with mine.
“That was, er…” he pauses.
“Weird,” I say, my lips curving slightly.
