Free Blood Bond (Anna Strong Chronicles #9) by Jeanne C. Stein Page A

have been so many men. So many trivial relationships. Why didn’t I see what was right in front of me? Why didn’t I know it was you from the very beginning?”
    Frey’s shoulders lift slightly. “Maybe we had to travel different roads to end up here. Maybe we weren’t ready before now.”
    “You mean
I
wasn’t ready.” I push out of his arms and cross to the dresser to yank a couple of tissues out of a box sitting on top. After I’ve sopped up my dripping eyes and nose, I turn back to him. “I hope you never regret asking me to marry you.”
    He gives me a teasing smile. “Would it do any good?”
    “Fuck, no. You’re committed now.”
    “Ah.” Frey closes the distance between us and pulls me back against his chest. “There’s the romantic little lady I’ve grown to know and love.”
    “You want romance?” I glance at my watch. “We have half an hour until we have to go down to lunch.” I cross to the bedroom door and lock it. “John-John and Trish are getting to know each other.” I take his hand and lead him to the bed. “Mom says she doesn’t need my help to get ready.” I give him a push with both hands and he falls back. “I’m feeling a little insecure about our relationship. I think a little romance is just what I need, too.”
    I’ve lowered myself on Frey so that the length of our bodies press together.
    “Insecure, huh?” Frey says. In one smooth motion, he’s reversed our positions, pinning me beneath him as he reaches down to run a hand from my thigh to my breast. “Let’s see what I can do about that.”
    His fingers are in my hair and his mouth hot against mine. You’d think it would be difficult to undress each other, lying like that and unwilling to break off a kiss that has my blood raging. But we manage. I don’t need to be coaxed or manipulated into being ready, either. When I feel Frey, his hardness, his heat, I take him right in. And when he nuzzles his neck against my lips, I know he’s ready, too. I breathe him in, bare my teeth and find the spot.
    His body tenses when I break through, just as mine tenses with the first mouthful of his blood. The rest is a tornado of desire and excitement, spiraling up and up, catching us in a whirlwind of passion that doesn’t end until our bodies have nothing left to give.
    * * *
    WE’VE GATHERED AROUND THE DINING ROOM TABLE, A banquet of fresh breads and cheeses, fruit, olives, grilled salmon and Parmesan risotto laid out in a splendid array in front of us.
    John-John’s eyes widen. “Do you eat lunch like this every day?”
    My father laughs. “Just about. What would you like to try first?”
    He busies himself helping John-John fill a plate. I look toward the stairs where I expect to see my mother descend. For once, I won’t have to
pretend
to eat. Nor will I have to feign not being hungry. Once the euphoria of lovemaking with Frey wore off, my stomach was once more in turmoil over Mom’s condition. I couldn’t eat a bite even if it were vampirically possible.
    Frey and Trish are chatting about attending school here in France and how it differs from school in the States. I let my gaze drift around the table. It’s remarkable how comfortable we all are, how ordinary this feels when the situation is anything but.
    My folks, Trish, human. Frey, John-John and I, not.
    Before we came down, Frey and I took a moment to let John-John know that my parents were unaware that I was a vampire and if I seemed to look like I was eating food that was why. He promised not to say anything, though I could feel his surprise and confusion that I wouldn’t want to share something so important with my parents. We promised to talk to him about the situation later.
    I hear a rustle from the hall and my mom is standing in the doorway, her eyes bright, her smile wide as she joins us. She has a scarf tied around her hair and is wearing a shift of multicolored silk over a pair of dark leggings. I jump up to hold out her chair.
    She gives me the