Page 80 of Roses & Ruin

Hayden presses deep and holds there, watching me with desperate, greedy eyes, fangs silver in the snow-drenched light as I writhe and pulse around him, clawing at the ripped linens, squeezing the shards of headboard I find, snapping a few small slivers of wood myself.

“Don’t leave me again,” I say senselessly as I’m throttled with pleasure, and Hayden immediately slips down, pressing full-length against me.

“Never,” he swears against my mouth, starting to move again.

“Say you’re mine. No one else’s.”

“God.” Hayden’s rhythm is wild. Messy. It nearly throws me over the edge again. “I belong to you, Rose. Body and soul.”

“Forever,” I whine. Now I’m the needy one, the desperate one. The scared one. “For forever.”

“Not long enough,” Hayden gasps. “Forever’s not long enough with you.” His hand slips beneath me, pulling himself impossibly closer, as he finally tumbles over the precipice with a snarl. My eyes shoot open so I can witness the searing majesty of his pleasure, the nearly helpless wrench of his face, like he’s at the mercy of something powerful. It’s intoxicating—what can be more powerful than him? Eyes squeezed shut, he mouths my name, sometimes managing to gasp it, his jaw clenching so tight his fangs sink a little into his bottom lip.

I did that, I think drunkenly. My body did this to Hayden.

Hayden collapses against me, and we pant fiercely against each other.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my chest, his voice in tatters. “For then and for even now, when I let my fear, my self-revulsion, push you away.”

“I don’t know if I should forgive you.” I can feel Hayden’s tight swallow. I lift his chin so he can see the sparkle in my eye, the playful lift of my brow. “You might have to apologize like that several more times before I do.”

Hayden rolls us over so I’m straddling him, sits up to give me several hot, deep kisses.

“Oh, Rose,” he rumbles. “You’ve never met a more penitent vampire than me.”

—

There’s a manic frenzy to the way we make love over the next few days. I never knew pleasure like this could exist, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. A staunch avoidance of calendars and clocks, any reminder that my birthday looms like a guillotine.

“The music room has the exit nearest to our bedroom.” Hayden opens one of the glass double doors to sweep a hand across a room with a harpsichord, a bass guitar, an electric guitar, and the biggest amp I’ve ever seen.

“The harpsichord’s the latch, right?” I guess. Hayden looks mildly disappointed when he walks over and taps the lowest key three times, and a wooden panel opens in the wall.

“Guess it sticks out like a sore thumb. Anyway, the lowest key or the highest key works. Tap it three times.”

I want to linger, take in the gorgeous view of the roiling ocean out the nine-foot glazed windows. But Hayden’s already walking out the French doors, nodding toward another hall.

“If something’s wrong with this room, just a little further into the east wing is the chapel. That’s the next closest one to our room.” He leads me down a long carpeted hallway near our suite. “One of the benches has a release on the arm. Push it over and the floor opens to a slide that goes down three stories, exits out the back garden.”

“You have a chapel?” I ask distractedly, twisting my hair around my finger. I know how necessary this is, but I hate it: the battle planning, the cold inescapability of it. We turn down another hall, and I stop walking when I see the windows that line both sides of the hallway.

“It’s not really a chapel in the traditional sense; it’s more of a…” He notices I’m not following, softens when he sees my face.

The room is bathed in delicate pink light from the rows of arched stained-glass windows lining both walls. On each window, rendered in stunning reds and greens and blues, is a portrait of a single red rose, the petals a bright garnet color.

My silence seems to make Hayden nervous. He shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Too much? Borderline obsessive?” Hayden inspects the cuff of his burgundy sweater, trying too hard to appear casual. I swallow hard, close the distance between us, and cup his face.

“You like me,” I say softly, “don’t you?”

Hayden rolls his eyes, slipping his hands around my waist. “You’re alright,” he mumbles.

If vampires could blush, I think he’d be red.

“You’re obsessed with me,” I whisper, rising onto my toes to catch his bottom lip between my teeth.

“You got me,” he growls, sweeping me up in his arms and pressing me against one of the windows. “Let me show you just how obsessed I am.”