He smiled knowingly and touched my cheek. “But if I took your blood, even in accident or a moment of passion?” Kisten’s blue eyes pinched in worry. “One scratch and she’d stake me. The entire city knows she’s put a claim on you, and God help the vamp that gets in her way. I took your body. If I touch your blood, I’m dead twice.”

I went cold. “Kisten, you’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared, little witch. She’s going to be the most powerful vampire in Cincinnati someday, and she wants to be your friend. She wants you to be her savior. She thinks you’ll either find a way to kill the vamp virus in her so she can die with her soul intact, or be her scion so she can die knowing that you’ll be there to take care of her.”

“Kisten. Stop.”

Smiling, he kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry. Nothing has changed from yesterday. Tomorrow will be the same. She’s your friend, and she won’t ask anything you can’t give.”

“That doesn’t help.”

He shrugged, and with a last touch on my side, he took a step back. Steam billowed out from the crack in the door as Kisten shimmied out of his jeans and leaned into the shower to adjust the temperature again. My eyes ran from his well-toned calves to his tight behind to his broad back, lightly muscled. All thoughts of Ivy’s coming anger vanished. Damn.

As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned, catching me ogling him.

The steam eddied about him. Drops of moisture from the showerhead clung to his stubble. “Let me help you get your camisole off,” he said, the timbre of his voice shifting.

I ran my eyes down him again, grinning as I brought my gaze up. Double damn.

He slipped his hands behind my back, and with a little help on my part, he nudged me forward to the edge of the dryer and slipped my halter top off. Wrapping my legs around him, I laced my hands behind his neck and tucked my chin into the hollow of his neck. God help me, he was beautiful. “Kisten?” I questioned as he nuzzled my hair out of the way and found the ticklish spot behind my ear. A warm feeling started in my middle, stemming from where his lips touched me, demanding I recognize it. Accept it. Call it a good thing.

“Do you still have that tight leather biker outfit?” I asked, kind of embarrassed.

Lifting me off the washer and carrying me into the shower, he laughed.

Twenty-two