“Again, whatever the fuck that means. Do I need to check your head for bumps?”

Sid laughed. “Poor old vampire. I’ll explain it all to you later.”

“Old?” His soap-slick hands slid down her back to cup her ass and lift her against his fully aroused shaft.

“Well, you are old,” she said breathlessly, then hissed when her sore ribs were crushed against his chest.

Aden cursed and released her. “You’re hurt. Let me heal—”

But Sid didn’t let him finish. Standing on her tiptoes, she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him hungrily, twisting her tongue around his until he groaned. Wrapping both arms around her carefully, he took the kiss deeper, one hand tangling in her long hair, tugging her head back as his lips trailed past her mouth to her neck, kissing her softly there, letting her feel the sweep of his tongue before lifting his head with another curse.

Sidonie voiced a wordless protest. She didn’t want to be pampered, she wanted to be fucked. Lifting her mouth to his, she teased his lips open with her tongue, and then she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He growled, but only squeezed her ass in warning.

She grinned against his lips and bit down harder, swallowing the tiny bit of his blood, feeling the rush, feeling every inch of her skin, every nerve ending tingle with awareness of him.

“You want to play?” he snarled finally. “We’ll play.” He lifted her higher, spinning them both around until her back was against the opposite wall of the shower, her legs around his waist.

His mouth went to her neck, and she shivered in anticipation. He sucked hard enough that she knew she’d have an old-fashioned hickey, but he didn’t let her feel even the edge of his sharp teeth.

“Aden,” she wheedled, flexing her hips against his belly.

“What do you want, habibi?”

“Not fair,” she complained.

“I don’t play fair.”

“But—” She gasped as his hand slid down her back, over the curve of her thigh and into the aching emptiness between her legs, filling her with his fingers.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me, Sidonie?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Only for me?”

“Yes,” she repeated urgently.

“Hmm.” He pumped his fingers a few times in and out, lingered to dip briefly into her nether opening. Muscles bunched as he held her against the wall, as he reached between them to grip his cock and position it at the opening to her pussy.

“Scream for me, Sidonie,” he murmured and slammed his full length inside her with a single powerful thrust, his hands gripping her ass, holding her wide open, so he could go deeper still.

And Sid screamed, but it was a cry of pure sensuous pleasure, her nails digging into his shoulders, her head thrown back against the wet tile as he pumped again and again, his hips slapping against hers, his butt flexing beneath her crossed ankles.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, and she did, eyeing him through a haze of desire, his handsome face so stern and focused, his dark eyes limned in the blue glow of his power.

“I want you to know who you’re fucking,” he snarled.

She gave him a languorous smile, her entire body suffused with desire, teetering on the edge of a climax that she fought to hold off, because it felt so damn good to ride this edge with him.

“I know who you are,” she murmured, her words slurred with sensuality. “There’s no one like you in the world. No one but you.”

He growled, his eyes lighting up like lasers as his fingers dug into her ass. He leaned in, pressing his hard chest against her breasts, covering her mouth with a searingly hot kiss, his lips sealed against hers, his tongue stabbing between her teeth and tangling with her tongue. She was breathless when he finally released her, her heart racing, every nerve she possessed trembling in anticipation as he lowered his head to her neck. She felt the sweep of his tongue, rough against her hot skin, the scrape of his fangs, tormenting her, letting her feel their sharp points, but not breaking the skin, not yet.

“Aden,” she pled, choking on a sob as she gasped for air, her body so ready to climax that her skin felt too tight, ready to explode from all the feelings, all the sensations roaring along her nerves, tightening her muscles.

“Sidonie,” he whispered, like a prayer, and then his fangs sliced into her neck and punctured her vein, and she was lost.

She didn’t scream as the climax took her, her throat seized up and she bucked in his arms, the orgasm pouring through her veins like hot liquid, feeling it in every inch of her body, from her fingers scraping over his scalp to her feet digging into the firm muscles of his ass, to the exquisite bundle of sensation in her clit, that oh-so-sensitive tiny nub. Pulses of overwhelming pleasure roared through her, waves of ecstasy so strong that she’d have been lost if not for Aden, holding her in his arms, keeping her safe.

I love you, she thought, but didn’t say, as he lifted his head and met her gaze.

“Stay with me, Sidonie,” he murmured.

She smiled. He couldn’t say it either. “I will,” she whispered. “As long as you want me.”

SID CAME OUT of the bathroom to find Aden stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked, propped up against the headboard with one muscled arm behind his head. He held an iPad in his other hand, his expression very intent as he read whatever it was displaying. She stood for a moment, admiring him.

“Like what you see?” he asked, without lifting his gaze from the iPad.

She laughed, crossing the room to climb onto the bed with him. “Fishing for compliments, vampire?”

He snorted. “Like I need to.”

“Oh my God! You are so vain.”

He cut his gaze to look at her. “Are you saying you don’t like what you see?”

Sid huffed out a dismissive breath. “Right. So, tell me something.”

“Anything in particular?”

She slapped his thigh. It was like slapping solid steel, and she paused for a moment to appreciate it, stroking her hand back and forth.

“Sidonie?”

Her gaze shot up, and her cheeks heated. Jesus, she was pathetic. “Yeah,” she said, covering, “I was just thinking. At that challenge gathering, when I met you the first time—”

“I remember it well.”

She flushed with pleasure at the heat in his eyes, the rumble of lust in his voice. “Um, right,” she said, trying to gather her thoughts under the onslaught of erotic images he conjured up without even touching her.

“How did you become a vampire?” she blurted out. She was pretty sure that wasn’t what she’d been meaning to ask, but it was the first thing that came to her mind.

Aden put the iPad aside and studied her in puzzled amusement.

“I mean, I’ve always wondered,” Sid continued. “Most of you, the few I’ve met anyway, seem”—she frowned, as if looking for the right word—“happy,” she said, surprised at her own choice of words. “I’ve read lots of books, and they always talk about how the vamp was turned against his will, and he’s a monster and he hates it. But every vampire I’ve ever met seems really happy to be one. Is that because you’ve just accepted it? Did you have a choice about the whole thing?”

ADEN EYED SIDONIE curiously. She was the most inquisitive woman he’d ever met. Or maybe it was simply that she was the only woman whose questions he’d ever been inclined to answer.

“Every vampire has his own story,” he said, knowing that such a trite response would never satisfy her.

“But what’s your story?” she persisted, right on cue.

He considered blowing her off, distracting her with more sex, which they’d both enjoy. But if he wanted to spend some time with Sidonie—and he did, a very long time—then he was going to have to answer her questions. Because she’d only keep asking.

“My Mistress,” he told her, “that is, the vampire who made me, did offer me a choice. But it was one she knew I would accept. I was in a dire situation, albeit of my own making, and she gave me an out. A way to escape into what she said would be a better life.”

“And was it?”

“Oh, yes.”

Morocco, 1778

ADEN ROSE LATE in the day. It was the first week of the holy month, and business was light. Not even the wealthy would dare the wrath of their god during this time. He thought of it as their god because he no longer believed in god, not theirs or anyone else’s. Certainly not the god of his father, who’d sold him like an animal, or even the god of his mother, who discarded him to secure her own comfort. No god had ever done Aden any favors.

But he was grateful for this one time of the year when he wasn’t forced to play the prostitute, or, even worse, the whipping boy of that fat turd who continued to beat him bloody whenever the mood struck him, and all with his mistress’s blessing. How could he ever have thought she cared for him? She’d replaced him in her bed long ago, buying a new young slave to train just as she had him. But he’d thought some affection still lingered between them. Her willingness to sell him so cruelly had killed any such illusions, her betrayal far greater than the simple brutality of the fat man.

He rolled off the bed slowly, feeling twice his age as every inch of scar tissue, every fresh wound made itself known. He had scars on top of scars. And when he wasn’t being whipped, he was expected to service the women who continued to ask for him, though he derived only the most perverse pleasure from fucking them. He’d fooled himself in the past into thinking they desired him, even cared for him. But no longer. He was a whore, and they used him like one.

“Aden?” It was young Sana, tapping lightly on the frame of his doorway. “Can I oil your back for you?”

The child felt responsible, as if she’d somehow asked to be whipped bloody that day he’d gone to her rescue.

“Not today, asal.”

“Are you sure? Because we’re not busy.”