Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Safi?"

Carmine startled. It was the first word Atticus had spoken to her since they pulled through the gate. It was nearing dawn and they'd pulled off the main road. She assumed the stunning overlook up ahead was where they'd wait for Michael, but he hadn't told her one way or another.

She had to swallow hard before she could reply. "That's my last name."

"I thought you didn't know your last name."

"I couldn't remember it," she replied, unable to parse his tone. Was he angry still? He didn't sound very friendly, but he didn't bark at her, either. "I didn't know it until Captain Bennet scanned my chip."

Atticus still didn't look at her. The corded muscles of his forearms, covered with tattoos and exposed by his t-shirt, strained beneath his skin. He looked like he was holding onto the wheel for dear life as he slowly guided the RV and trailer off the road and onto the overlook.

"What was that about being a mortician?"

Carmine rearranged the folds of her dress over her knees. Her lungs went so tense with panic at the thought of leaving him that she almost couldn't get the words out. "That's what I did for the crypt. I tended the dead. Repaired bodies. Cleaned them. Got them ready for families to sit vigil and then bury them or send them to be cremated at Glory's Temple."

Atticus's jaw worked for a moment before he asked, "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Um… I thought you would assume that's what I did. I wasn't hiding it."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes?"

"That sounded like a question."

"I'm confused about what's happening right now." She risked another peek at his expression, but it was unchanged. "I love tending the dead. It's my favorite thing."

Second favorite. Now she had a new favorite thing, but she wasn't certain she'd ever be able to do it again. Her stomach cramped at the thought.

"What did Captain Bennet ask about?"

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Carmine got the distinct impression that she was being tested. Speaking slowly, she answered, "They asked me if I needed help and offered to get me away from you."

Atticus turned his head so fast, she momentarily worried about the integrity of his spinal column. "And you said no?"

Carmine's eyes went wide. "Was that wrong?"

He slammed the brake. Luckily they weren't going very fast. She only rocked in her seat a little as he engaged the parking brake and unclipped his seatbelt so fast, the buckle hit the window with a jarring clack!

Heart leaping into her throat, she gasped, "What's going?—"

She yelped when he reached over the console to unbuckle her. He hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her over the cupholders. She scrambled to accommodate him, not wanting to bang her shins, and before she'd really processed what was happening, she was seated in his lap again.

He keeps doing that, she thought, dazed, as he arranged her legs out over the console.

Cupping the side of her neck, he turned her head to face him with his thumb. "Doll, why didn't you say yes to the elf?"

She found it hard to look at him, so she lowered her gaze to the puncture wounds on his throat. Her hand itched to touch it. Stroke it. Revel in the mark that was hers.

She didn't dare, though. It was one thing to pretend and lie to Captain Bennet, but it was another to endure his rejection again. A cold feeling like dread washed through her at the memory of how he'd set her aside like he couldn't stand to touch her.

She understood that he was right to be angry, but he'd also washed his hands of the moment and what they'd shared so quickly. That hurt worse than anything else.

So she kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap when she answered, "I don't know."

"Why are you lying?"

She lifted a shoulder in a tense shrug. Her reasoning felt ridiculous now. She didn't have logic. Carmine had acted on pure instinct: the one that screamed at her to run back to him.

"Doll." He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Butterflies exploded into flight in her stomach at that small, gentle touch. "Please look at me."

"No, thank you."

"Why not?"

"You're angry at me."

"I was upset, yeah. Mostly at myself for being a huge fucking asshole and touching you when I shouldn't have."

The words were so sour they almost refused to form, but Carmine forced them out. "Because you didn't want to defile me."

"Fuck. No, Carmine, that's not why I was upset." He dipped his head, probably to catch her eye, but she stubbornly refused to look anywhere but at her bite. Which was a mistake, because it only made her crave him more.

"I was mad because it was— Listen, there are a lot of reasons. First of all, I thought I told you that you don't have to hook up with someone to be safe. It pissed me off to think that you only… that we did that because you felt like you had to, that I made you feel that way. That I— gods, that I took advantage of that desperation fucking gutted me. You don't have to trade yourself for anything, and you sure as fuck won't be defiled by having sex. That's the second thing: sex is good, Carmine. Fuckin' sacred when it's with the right person, the right time, the right chemistry. It doesn't ruin you."

"I didn't think so," she replied, matter-of-fact. She could see now why some people might revere sex — all it took was one orgasm at the hands of her vampire to get it — but she'd never believed the moral part of it that the crypt tried to beat into her. It just didn't make sense, not when she saw the cold facts of life and death and bodies on her slab every day.

Sex couldn't have more moral value than any other bodily function, and she didn't feel shame when she peed, so…

Still, that didn't change the fact that others valued her perceived purity. "My virginity is a liability."

"How so?"

Exasperated, she finally looked at him. He was very close. Focusing on his cheek instead of the intensity of his eyes, she answered, "If I'm defiled, no groom will want me."

"That's bullshit. Most vampires wouldn't give a shit if you'd had a hundred partners, Carmine. I sure as shit don't."

"But enough do," she argued, desperate for him to understand. "My groom does. Anyone who did business with the crypt did. That's enough. If I can ruin myself for even a few grooms, isn't that a good thing?"

Atticus went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was a croak. "You weren't just trying to buy protection or something?"

"No. I considered it, but that would have been a risk, too. What if I chose wrong? A mate or even just a sexual partner could be just as dangerous as a groom."

Not Atticus, she thought. I hope.

His arms circled her, pulled her tight to his chest, and squeezed. "I'm sorry," he grated. "I was hurt. I loved being with you so much that it fuckin' hurt thinking you'd done it because… Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"Oh." Her stomach did a somersault. "I did want to, you know. You didn't take advantage of me. I wanted you to touch me. I… needed it."

"Yeah, you wanted to get rid of your virginity." She felt his chest expand with a huge exhale. "I get it. That was smart, doll."

He's still hurt. That thought sat like a burning coal at the base of her throat.

Carmine pushed at his shoulder, forcing him to let her lean back a little. "Yes, but that's not the whole reason."

Atticus had such an intense frown. Everything about him seemed to be turned up to the highest volume at all times. His eyes. His voice. His tattoos. His feelings. She could see the conflict in every line of his expression, and that bothered her.

Reaching up to smooth the lines from his forehead with her fingers, she admitted, "I also just wanted you. I felt safe wanting you, being touched by you. Even if there'd been another person around, I would have chosen you. Is that bad?"

In the moment, she hadn't been thinking of her virginity or its weight. Her ploy had only made it as far as him pulling his collar aside for her to drink. After that, she'd been driven by little more than pure carnal need and him.

The tension around his eyes eased. Atticus snagged her wrist. Pressing it to his mouth, he breathed against her fluttering pulse, "No, doll. It's not bad."

He tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held her like that for a while. She didn't complain. All the tense muscles of her body relaxed for the first time since things went sideways. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded. She very subtly turned her nose into his throat and breathed deep, taking the rich scent of him into her body.

The screaming thing in her chest went quiet. He's so warm. So gentle with me. If I could stay here forever, I would.

Not because she wanted to change her fate. Not because he'd saved her. Not because she needed a protector.

It was because he felt like home.

Atticus idly brushed his claws through her hair for a while before he asked, "Why didn't you say yes to the elf, doll?"

"I… didn't want to leave you."

A soft puff of air escaped him. Not quite a sigh and not a gasp, but a sound of astonishment nonetheless. "Do you trust me?"

"I think I could."

"That's a start." He turned his head to skim his lips over her forehead. "Everything is gonna be okay, doll."

She let out a sharp exhale before admitting, "I'm scared to go with Michael."

He tensed. "Why?"

"I don't know him." She picked at the fabric of his shirt. "He's not you. When I think about leaving you, it doesn't feel right. Like stepping off a cliff I can't see."

She expected him to immediately reassure her, but he didn't. Instead, he gravely agreed, "You're right. Gods, you're so fuckin' brave, Carmine. So brave. This would scare the shit out of me, too. Being passed around, not sure if anything was true or if I'd end up someplace worse than where I already was. I could be sending you with anyone, to anywhere."

Panic momentarily took hold of her. "Please don't."

Don't lie. Don't break my heart.

Having that tiny bud of trust crushed would be a massive blow. Maybe one she couldn't come back from.

Atticus cupped her cheek. Pulling back a bit, he looked down at her. Perfectly solemn, he promised, "I won't. As much as it kills me to say it, you're going to be safe with Michael. He's a good man. He'll drive you to the estate. Shouldn't take more than three hours, and you'll be safe from the sun in the blacked out backseat. You'll be greeted by Zia and the boss and my sister who are going to stay up to wait for you. Adriana will probably cry. She does that a lot. And then I'll meet you there. Make sure your house is all set up. You'll be safe, Carmine. I won't sleep until you feel it."

"Okay." She let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

He seemed to understand that she wouldn't be able to truly believe it until she saw it all in front of her, real and hers. Eyelids lowering, he murmured, "We have a few minutes before Michael should be here. I don't want you leaving my sight with an empty stomach. You hungry, doll?"

Her belly swooped. "Yes."

Atticus thumbed her lower lip. His touch was featherlight, his eyes dark. "I don't want you being hungry around another man, fucked up as that sounds." He leaned down to bump the tips of their noses together. In a softer, huskier voice, he continued, "I want you to feed from me, doll. Just me."

Peeking through her lashes, she asked a question that had nagged at her, "Do you want to feed from me?"

His breath hissed from between his fangs. "You have no fucking idea, but you're not strong enough for that yet." Pressing his thumb into the divot between her lip and chin, he applied gentle pressure until her lips parted. "And I love your bite, doll. I want to feel your fangs one more time before the real world tries to steal you from me."

That was a dangerous game. If he didn't want to be her anchor, then they couldn't do it more than a handful of times. Even two was pushing it. More than that and they ran the risk of her venom taking. Becoming an anchor could be reversed, of course, but venom withdrawal was horrific. Even a temporary anchor suffered when they stopped receiving regular injections.

But she didn't say that. She didn't want to say no, and she didn't want him to be smart. There was every chance that she'd get into Michael's car and she'd never see Atticus again. He could betray her. Michael could betray him. Her groom could snatch her. Anything could happen, and even if it didn't, everything would change once they left the safe bubble of the RV.

In all likelihood, she'd never get a chance to taste him again. Of course she was going to take it.

"Touch me," she whispered, daring to skim her lips against his. His shuddering breath puffed across her mouth. "Please."

This time, when she slid her fangs into the unbitten side of his neck, she did it smoothly, with more anticipation than the nerves that had shaken her the first time. She moaned at the release of venom, the first gush of rich blood into her mouth. She clung to him, stroked his hair and his jaw and the planes of his chest. Her mind drifted into some new, warm place that felt like home.

"That's it," he murmured, gathering her close and sliding a hand under her dress. His callused fingers dipped into her panties, stroking slick flesh with a reverence that took her breath away. "I've got you, doll. I've got you."

For the first time since they met, she let herself believe it.