Slayer 11

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I stretched as Xavier and I left the room. Damn, that was too much of a déjà vu to those exasperating slayer meetings that I was forced to attend as heir. Sometimes, though, I found myself enjoying it-proving a point and winning a debate always felt so good. It was in my nature to argue; Cai and I often quarreled about silly things. I noticed that nowadays, I didn't really have anyone to fight with, but I didn't mind. I had other things to occupy myself with.

As if eavesdropping on my thoughts, Xavier's fingers curled around mine, and he flashed me a naughty smirk. I suppressed a giggle, adoring this new, mischievous side of him. I liked it as much as I liked his sweet side.

I liked all of him. Even his depressing past was forgivable-it wasn't really his fault-and it helped shape him into the person, uh, vampire he was today. I liked his kindness, his compassion, his determination. He was a strong, capable leader.

And, because he was a vampire, he was stunningly attractive. Of course.

It wasn't like I could ignore his features. He stole my breath every time I looked fully into his face, which, I had to confess, took courage. Those gorgeous features... I could study him forever, if it weren't so stalker-like.

He was changing me, peeling back the hard skin I'd grown after my family's deaths, revealing new things about me I hadn't even been aware of myself, like covered raw flesh just grown in. He was able to draw out a flirtier side of me, something I never thought I had possessed. It was amazing.

"What are you thinking?"

I blinked, focusing his eyes on his breathtaking face. "Erm, nothing."

He laughed. "You can't just try to pull that one on me." We had reached his room, and he pulled me inside with the same smile, the one that belonged on a rascal's face. It contrasted with his angel's countenance, but somehow, fit perfectly at the same time. Probably because I was biased though.

The door clicked shut, and I shivered, biting my lip when he bent over me, trapping me against the wall. He leaned closer until I could feel the whispers of his exhales tickling my skin. "I like it when you do that."

"Do what?" I breathed, my body quivering and humming with the nearness of his.

"Bite your lip." He was so close my mind was drowning in imagining contact.

I glanced down, away from his alluring eyes, my breathing becoming heavy. Wrong idea-it was the perfect position to expose my neck to him. He had no hope of resisting, and my mouth fell open when I felt his lips brushing across my skin, down the line of my vein.

Suddenly, he pushed himself away from me, killing the moment. "Sorry," he muttered. "I went too far." I could see the tense, rigid set of his torso, his hands clenching into fists, as he walked stiffly away from me, sitting on the bed. His body curled in on himself, and I knew he was struggling against himself.

"No, I'm sorry," I said, withdrawing away from him, trying to put more distance. Leaving the room would probably be best for him right now, but selfishly, I couldn't bring myself to leave. "You're thirsty...aren't you?" I whispered, his breath catching in my throat.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Yes," he admitted.

"When did you last feed?" I asked, my tone disapproving. I knew his tolerance level was about a week long, maybe a week and a half at best.

"Erm...two weeks ago..." he mumbled, his head bowing like an ashamed child caught stealing from the cookie jar. Not that we had cookies here or anything.

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