Page 60 of Bleed

“Finally time?” I ask as I take it.

He settles back onto the couch and raises his own glass. “It could’ve used longer,” he says, swirling the wine. “But patience isn’t your strong suit.”

I’m not sure whether or not I should be offended by that. He doesn’t sound judgmental, just observant, like he’s stating a fact. Which… I guess he is.

We sit there for a while, watching TV and sipping wine in companionable silence. Every now and then, I catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye, his expression locked down tight.

I finish my glass embarrassingly fast, then get up to head for the kitchen to refill it.

“You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he murmurs from the couch.

“Who says I’ve got an empty stomach?” I scoff, grabbing the decanter and pouring myself another glass.

“You haven’t eaten dinner.”

I pause, wondering how the hell he knows that. Then I huff a laugh, turning back toward him. “What, are you stalking me now or something?”

Something strange flashes across his face, gone almost as quickly as it appears. “Am I wrong?” he counters.

I wave him off, walking back over to the couch and taking a seat, a little closer this time. As I raise my glass to my lips for a sip, I glance over and realize he’s barely touched his own.

“Aren’t you thirsty?” I ask, nodding toward it.

He exhales slowly, leaning forward to set the glass on the coffee table. “Not for wine.”

My pulse stutters.

Oh.

A wicked idea takes shape, and I set my glass down beside his, sweeping my hair away from my neck. “Maybe this, then?” I ask as I lean toward him, exposing the line of my throat.

Elliott goes still, his eyes immediately zeroing in on my pulse point. “Don’t tempt me, little mortal,” he grits out.

I laugh and shift closer, bridging the distance between us until there’s barely a foot of space left. “Why not?” I taunt, tipping my head back against the cushion and gazing up at him through my lashes.

His dark gaze drags slowly along the line of my throat, lingering on my pulse point before drifting lower down my body. Heat unfurls low in my belly as his eyes rake over me, the muscles in his arms tensing, veins standing out like he’s bracing himself against some internal force.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a thick swallow.

The corner of my mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Oh, I think I do.”

The second the words leave my mouth, his gaze snaps back to mine, and the look in his eyes steals my breath.

Not anger.

Not annoyance.

Hunger.

His lips part, fangs extending with a soft pop, and for one reckless second, I’m certain this is it. That he’s about to give in, sink his teeth into my throat, and finally give me the shot of vampire venom I’ve been craving for weeks.

Instead, he abruptly turns away, surging to his feet.

I sit up, mouth dropping open, but I can’t even get a word out before he’s moving toward the staircase so fast he’s just a blur at the edge of my vision.

“What the hell?” I choke, twisting around on the couch as he shoots up the stairs in a blur of vampire speed. “Elliott!”

In the next blink, he’s gone, leaving nothing behind but the dull hum of the TV and the frantic pounding of my own heartbeat. A door slams upstairs and I sink back against the couch cushions, mortification and annoyance twisting together in my gut until I’m almost physically nauseous.