Dark Needs at Night’s Edge (Immortals After Dark #5)(34)
Author: Kresley Cole

"You look content, mon trésor."

He coughed into his fist. "I have to say, I’ve been in worse jails." And having such a desirable cellmate didn’t hurt either. Though the need to pursue Tarut grew more pressing with each hour, and a promising hunting ground awaited, he also found himself on edge from the idea of leaving her here for even a short time.

Suddenly, she twirled around and brushed a sizzling kiss on his cheek. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, but she merely laughed. "It’s called – say it with me – a-fec-shun."

He’d just assumed she flirted because that was her nature. Yet could she… could she truly be interested in him? Even be attracted to him – with his red eyes and scars? Maybe she wanted more, as he did.

But then there was no one else to attract her. He had no competitors here.

"Why would you show me affection?"

She answered, "Because I… feel it?"

"Why?"

With a laugh, she asked, "Why, why, why? Must you question everything good?"

"Yes, when it’s illogical. You know nothing about me – "

"I know more about you than any other woman does, n’est-ce pas? You don’t have to muster up the nerve to divulge your secrets to me, while secretly hoping I don’t run away screaming. I know them all. I’m still here." Eyes bright, lips curling, she said, "And I know that you’re my favorite man. Dans le monde entier."

"Because I’m the only one in the entire world who can see and hear you." She gave him that mysterious shrug. He knew she was likely playing, the flirtations meaningless. But damn it, her words still got to him. It was becoming easier to pretend the sentiment was real.

"You don’t know what to do with affection, do you?"

"I… have no idea," he admitted. "I don’t know my way around this. It makes me feel weak. You make me feel that way sometimes."

"How a man as powerful as you could feel weak, I’ll never know. This disturbs me. What would you suggest I change so you don’t feel that way?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling to convey what he was thinking. "You make me uneasy at times because you and everything you do are so unfamiliar to me."

"Like what?"

"Your laughter. It’s as if you spend every second of the day merely awaiting a time to be able to laugh or tease."

"I sound très terrible. How do you stand being near me? It must be because of your saintlike patience and calm?" She topped off his glass.

20

Once she’d finished dancing, Néomi floated to the chair beside Conrad’s.

The thoughtful vampire had pulled up two of them in front of the fire. He continued to treat her like a woman instead of a ghost. He opened doors for her, and though she could never take it, he often held out his hand for her.

Little things like this increased his already devastating attractiveness.

"Conrad, what was it like in the Kapsliga?"

"Regimented," he answered shortly, no doubt predicting where she was headed with this.

"Was it terribly difficult to abstain?" She’d been prying to uncover more about this part of his life. She was probably as tenacious at this as he was about the key. Or as he had been.

No longer did he ask her to retrieve it – because his brothers had stopped coming.

She suspected Conrad felt let down that they still hadn’t returned. It must prey on him, wondering what had happened to them. Though he’d never admit it.

"Why are you so curious about this?" He swigged his whiskey. Though she might’ve expected him to take from the bottle, he drank it neat from the glass, and slowly.

"Because I want to know more about you."

"Then why not ask me about the Great War, about our greatest victory or shrewdest defense – "

"Because I am also a female?"

"I can’t argue that." He lifted his glass to her. "Ask what you will."

She made like she was sitting. "Did you abstain only because of your vow?"

"You heard my brother – Wroths keep their vows. That would’ve been enough. But there wasn’t much temptation anyway. Healthy women near the front line were scarce. Especially any who weren’t already obsessed with Murdoch." He contemplated the whiskey in his glass. "And the end was in sight. Service in the Kapsliga is from the age of thirteen to thirty seven. I only had a few more years left."

"I’ll bet you were counting down the days."

"When there were lulls in the war, I did." His brows drew together. "But then I died."

"There was never a girl that struck your fancy? You never fell in love?"

"There wasn’t any time even to contemplate emotions like that. I fought in battles all day and then warred with vampires each night. Survival was foremost on everyone’s minds." He took a drink, his gaze turning distant for long moments. Was he reliving those horrors even now? Just when she was about to prompt him back to the conversation, he blinked and asked, "What about you? Did you love the oil man?"

"Not at all." And he hadn’t loved her. That night when Louis had wielded his blade, Néomi had understood him better than she ever had. Louis had been frenzied not because he’d needed to be with her but because he’d wanted to punish her. No matter what sentiments he’d spouted over her body, he’d murdered her out of spite.

"The men you were with – did you love any of them?"

"I had great affection for them. But no abiding love for them."

"Why couldn’t they win you?" He leaned forward, as if her answer was very significant to him.

"Oh, they didn’t do anything wrong. I just never found my match."

"Did they… satisfy you?"

If they hadn’t in the beginning, they had eventually. "I made sure of it. I wasn’t shy about what I expected or needed from a man." He raised his brows. She could tell he was eager to question her about her words, but she wanted to refocus on him. "Conrad, how did you handle the physical need?" When his face flushed, she said, "Oh, I see."

"A lot," he admitted in a husky voice.

"Were you terribly curious about what it would feel like?"

Chapter 12

He hesitated, then met her gaze. "Still am."

She exhaled a slow breath, for once thinking she might be in over her head with a man.

Néomi had thought she could easily handle Conrad, because men had never given her fits before. And she was experienced while he wasn’t.

But Conrad Wroth wasn’t an average man. He wasn’t even a man, really. He was an immortal male who’d never had a female – when he’d clearly wanted to. She sensed a volatile passion inside him, just waiting for release.