She didn’t so much as turn to check who’d entered her room when she heard the door open behind her. As if she could mistake him. His presence. His scent.
Chloe’s eyes remained on her reflection. She looked the same, more or less. Except for the eyes. Sometimes they were dark brown, as they used to be.
Other times, when her throat tightened in hunger, and her fangs popped out…she was someone else entirely. Someone with bright blue eyes and a heart of stone.
“You’re sure you want to stay here?”
She giggled. The sound was utterly unfamiliar. Someone’s voice. A soprano, too suave and seductive.
“So, what, we date for a few weeks and you want me to move in?”
Levi chuckled, wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yes,” he whispered against her throat. “I very much want you in my house, chained to my bed twenty-four seven.”
His mouth touched her collarbone, and kiss their way up to her jaw. She bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
“But I meant, you could move into your home. Skyhall.”
Her home. The black palace at the very top of the hill. She hadn’t stepped inside yet.
Chloe shook her head.
“We’ve made a statement already. The world knows what I am. They know the Eirikrson are back.”
And she didn’t mind that, strangely. She wanted the arrogant, heartless immortals who played with lives casually to be afraid.
“But I’m also Chloe Miller. Barely trained. With no understanding of my powers or my limits. And no control over my thirst.”
She drank from Levi’s throat, and from the countless bags of synthetic blood he made available to her everywhere. But she was hungry. Thirsty. Always.
“Moving onto to hill will say to the world that I’m ready. That I’ve claimed my house. And that they can come knocking if they want to challenge me. I don’t think I can do that yet.”
Levi pulled her in closer.
“Not yet,” he agreed. “But soon.”
