Doesn’t stop me from reaching out and resting a hand on his hard biceps.

Doesn’t stop me from softly stroking my thumb up and down his inner arm. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” He nearly strangles on the word, but this time he doesn’t move away from my touch. From me.

And while there is a part of me that can’t believe I’m doing this, that I’m all but throwing myself at Jaxon, there’s another part of me just waiting for him to give in.

It’s the same part that’s encouraged by the fact that he’s barely coherent at this point.

The same part that can’t help but feel—and be happy about—the small tremor running through his body.

The same part that desperately wants to feel Jaxon’s mouth once again on my own and is determined not to leave here until I find out.

“I don’t believe you,” I whisper. And then I take the final step, closing the last of the distance between us and pressing my suddenly trembling body flush against his.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he tells me in a voice that’s low and tortured and anything but cold.

He’s right. I don’t have a clue how much I’m asking of him. But I know if I don’t ask, if I don’t push, I’ll never get another chance. This will be the end of the discussion.

More, it will be the end of us.

And I’m not ready for that. I don’t even know if there is an us, or what will happen in a day or a week or three months, if there is. I only know that I’m not ready to walk away from him—or whatever happens next. Which is why I reach for him again and whisper, “So show me.”

Long seconds pass, minutes maybe, and Jaxon doesn’t move. I’m not sure he even breathes.

“Jaxon,” I finally whisper when I can’t take the agony of waiting. “Please.” My mouth is nearly pressed against his.

Still no response.

My confidence—shaky at the best of times—is about to desert me completely. After all, there’s nothing quite like throwing yourself at a boy and having him turn into a human statue to make a girl feel wanted.

But I’ve got one more attempt in me, one more chance to get Jaxon to understand that I trust him, no matter what he did in that hall. That I want him, vampire or not.

Two months ago, I would have walked away—run away, really—prepared to hide under my bed forever. But two months ago, my parents weren’t dead, and I didn’t yet realize just how fleeting, how fragile, life really is.

And so I swallow my fear and embarrassment as I slide my hand down Jaxon’s arm to his hand. Once more, I lace our fingers together before lifting both our hands to my chest. I press his palm flush against my heart and murmur, “I want you, Jaxon.”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Even knowing what I am?”

Confusion swirls through me. “I know who you are. That’s what matters.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So show me,” I whisper. “Give me what I’m asking for.”

His eyes darken, his pupils blown completely out. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it. I need you, Jaxon. I need you.”

His jaw clenches, and his fingers tighten reflexively on mine. “Are you sure?” he grinds out. “I need to know you’re sure. I don’t want to scare you, Grace.”

My knees tremble like some medieval heroine at the intensity in his voice, in his eyes. But I am not going to blow this now, not going to mess it up when I’m this close to getting what I want.

This close to having Jaxon as my own.

So I lock my knees in place, look him in the eye. And say as loud and clear as I have ever said anything in my life, “What scares me isn’t you being a vampire, Jaxon. What scares me is the idea that you’re going to walk away and I’m going to go my whole life without knowing what this could feel like.”

And just like that, Jaxon strikes. Hands grabbing, fangs flashing, body wrapping itself around me so quickly, I barely understand what’s happening. He whirls me around—my back to his front—tangles his hand in my hair, and pulls my head back.

And then sinks his teeth into my neck, right below my jaw.

48

Is That a

Wooden Stake in Your Pocket

or Are You Just

Happy to See Me?

For one second, two, panic immobilizes me. Makes it so I can’t feel, can’t think, can’t breathe as I wait…for pain, for emptiness, for death.

But as time goes by and the agony I’m expecting doesn’t come, my adrenaline stops shooting like a geyser, and I realize that whatever Jaxon is doing to me doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, it feels really, really…good.

Pleasure like molten honey pours through my veins, lighting up my nerve endings and swamping me with an intensity, a need I never imagined existed. My already weak knees give out entirely, and I sag against him, letting him hold me up with his long, lean body and firm arms as I tilt my head to give him better access.

He growls at the invitation, a deep, rumbling sound that burrows deep inside me even as the ground shakes a little beneath my feet. And then the pleasure increases, lighting me up, turning me inside out, making me tremble even as I forget how to breathe. How to be.

I press myself even more tightly against him, wind my arms up and over my head so that I can tangle my fingers in his hair. Cup his jaw in my palm. Push my skin more firmly against his mouth as my eyes drift closed.

I’m desperate for more—desperate for Jaxon and whatever he wants to give me or take from me. But he’s obviously got more control than I can even imagine, because just as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm me, he pulls back, pulls away, his tongue stroking softly over his bite marks. The caress sends a whole new volley of emotions straight through me.

I stay where I am, body resting against his, hands clutching onto whatever part of him I can reach, totally dependent on him to keep me from falling as little darts of pleasure continue to zing through me. They’re followed by a creeping lassitude that makes it impossible for me to so much as lift my lids, let alone step away from Jaxon.

As if I would.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs against my ear, his voice soft and warm in a way I’ve never heard from him before.

“Are you kidding?” I answer just as softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this okay in my life. That was…amazing. You’re amazing.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well, being a vampire doesn’t come with many perks, so you’ve got to take them where you can find them.”

“Obviously.” Eyes still closed, I turn my head. Raise my face to his. Purse my lips. And pray Jaxon doesn’t shy away from me.

He doesn’t, his lips pressing against mine in a tender kiss that has my breath catching all over again, though for very different reasons. Moments pass, and he starts to lift his head, but I hold on, wanting just a little more of him.

Just a little more of this boy who has such power and such tenderness inside him.

He gives it to me, his mouth moving against mine, his tongue stroking along my bottom lip until, finally, I find the strength to let him go.

I pull back, open my eyes slowly, and find Jaxon staring down at me, his dark gaze filled with so much emotion, I don’t know whether to laugh or weep.

“No one’s going to hurt you again, Grace,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper back. “You made sure of it.”

Surprise glows in the depths of his obsidian eyes. “I didn’t think you believed—” He breaks off as the ground rumbles beneath our feet.

“We should get under the doorway,” I tell him, glancing around for the closest one.

But he just closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Moments later, the ground settles back down.

Shock explodes inside me. “You—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. Try again. “The earthquakes. They’re you?”

He nods, looks wary.

“Even the big ones?” I ask, and I can feel my eyes going wide. “All of them?”

“I’m so sorry.” His fingers stroke over my still-bandaged neck. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” I turn my head, kiss his palm even as astonishment continues to ricochet inside me. How can anyone be so powerful that they actually move the earth? It’s incomprehensible, unimaginable. “Does this happen often?”

He shakes his head, shrugs, like he’s as baffled as I am. “It’s never happened…before.”

“Before?” I ask.

“Before you.” He pulls me more tightly against him. “I learned control early—over myself and my abilities. I had to or…”

“Cities would crumble?” I ask, tongue firmly in cheek.

“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. But I swear, I’ve got it under control now. I won’t hurt you again.” His mouth slides along my cheek, over my jaw, down my neck.

Heat moves through me at the first touch of his lips. It makes me tremble. Makes me want.

I pull his mouth back down to mine and let the need, and the pleasure, sweep me away.

The kiss goes on and on, until we’re both breathless. Shaky. Desperate.

I arch against him in an effort to be closer, then run my hands over his arms, his shoulders, his back. My fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans low in his throat. Then bites down gently on my lip, sucking at it just a little, until it feels like the Fourth of July deep inside me.

I gasp, shudder, and Jaxon uses my still-weak knees as an excuse to pull away. I try to hold him in place, try to keep his lips and skin and body on mine. But he just smooths a hand over my hair and whispers, “Come on.”

He takes my hand in his and tugs me toward his bedroom.

I follow him—of course I do—but as he leads the way, I can’t help but notice that his once neat reading alcove is now an utter disaster.

Books cover the floor, some lying down, some standing up, some leaning drunkenly against furniture halfway in between. The couch is upside down and the gorgeous old coffee table I liked so much is now splintered into little more than wood chips.