Free Eye of Abernathy by Rashelle Workman Page B

in his mouth. Stuffing it in his cheek, he gave us two thumbs up, said, “Later,” and jogged away.
    I touched Christopher’s arm. His fingers grasped my hand as he pulled me into my bedroom, closing the door.
    He wanted to hug me, I could tell, but he wasn’t sure where to touch. I was covered in his blood. But then, so was he.
    “You want a shower ?” I asked.
    He brushed my cheek tenderly. “I want to kiss you,” he said softly.
    In response, I met him halfway, our lips crashing into each other. My heart raced as he pushed open my mouth with his tongue. A whimper escaped my throat. The noise encouraged Christopher, and he pressed my body close, no longer caring what we were covered in. Walking backward, we made our way to the bathroom, our lips never straying. It’d been two years, and I’d missed his kisses, longed for them.
    He closed the bathroom door with his foot. I pushed his shirt off his finely sculpted s houlders, down his arms, and let it fall to the floor.
    Free of the shirt, I let my hands roam his body, taking special care of the spot the Vampire Queen ripped open. No scar. Nothing to indicate his insides had been exposed to the world—that he’d so nearly died.
    He pulled back momentarily and my eyes searched his, the incredible new color, like nothing I’d seen before—except on Envy’s horn.
    What did the magic of the Seal do to him, I wondered, touching his face with one hand and placing my other over his heart?
    “Does it hurt?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “No.” His lips found mine again, a new urgency in each kiss. I responded, my body coursing with desire. I wanted him to bite me, drink from me.
    I sighed at a realization. He would never do those things again.
    Christopher noticed. “What’s wrong?”
    I didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t his fault I was changed, my blood no longer alluring. “It’s nothing,” I answered, trailing a finger along his collarbones, down the middle of his chest to his stomach muscles. I felt his body tremble at my touch.
    “You’re sad.”
    I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “I’ll miss your lips on my neck. The way your fangs part my skin. I’ll miss that part of us,” I said.
    He didn’t respond and I looked up. An unreadable expression puzzled his features. As if making a decision, his gray-violet eyes focused on mine. And he smiled, a genuinely happy smile.
    “What?” I asked, curious about what changed.
    He nuzzled my neck. “You mean like this?” he asked, kissing a line down the vein.
    “Yes,” I gasped, clutching his shoulders.
    He moved to the other side of my neck and kissed the vein there. “Like this?”
    “Yes. Yes.”
    I craved him so badly.
    When his fangs pricked my skin, I thought I should push him away. Do the right thing. I didn’t want my blood to burn him again. But I couldn’t. It felt too good. And when he sank his teeth into my flesh, I felt it low in my belly.
    Wrapping his arm around my wa ist, he pulled me to him so my chest was touching his, and he began to suck.
    I figured at any second he would pull back, that the pain would be too much, but he didn’t stop. Instead he sucked harder, and I clung to him, lost in ecstasy.
    Many beats later, he paused, lifting his face, his fangs still drawn. My blood still on his white teeth. A look of exquisite pleasure in his eyes. They were darker, richer. The most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.
    “A-Are you alright?” I asked.
    He ran his tongue slowly over his fangs, and they retracted. “I’ve never felt better.”
    My heart leaped. “My blood didn’t hurt you?” I asked, just to verify he wasn’t in any sort of pain.
    He cupped my face in his hands. “Your delicious blood didn’t hurt. It…” he pushed his fingers through his hair. “It soothed me, lit me on fire in a good way, helped me to realize something.”
    “What?” I asked, breathless.
    He pressed my hand against his heart. “I’m yours. Heart. Body. Soul. If you want me, I’ll