My hand was on his chest where his shirt hung open. Pulse slowing, I shifted my fingers across his skin, feeling the smoothness. I looked for my pants, finding them puddled before the dresser. Kisten was still in his. Mostly. Contentment rose high in me, and I smiled, worn out and exhausted. I could hear his heartbeat, and I listened to it as it slowed. “Kisten?”

“Mmmm-hmm?”

The sound rumbled up through his chest and into me. I could hear the peace in it, and I snuggled closer. Fingers fumbling, Kisten pulled the lightweight coverlet over us.

“That was incredible,” I said, shivering at the comforter’s smooth silk backing. “How do you…how do you go to work and live a normal life knowing that’s there to find?”

Kisten’s arms about me tightened. His one hand rose to find mine, stilling my motion against his skin. “You just do,” he said softly. “And you’re a good bite. Innocent and eager.”

“Stop…” I moaned. “You make me sound like a…a…” I didn’t know what to call myself, and “slut” sounded so nasty.

“Blood slut?”

“Shut up!” I exclaimed, and he grunted as my elbow jabbed him when I moved.

“Be still,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, keeping me where I was against him. “You’re not.”

Forgiving him, I slumped back into his warmth. His hand moved against my hair, gentling me, and I watched the lights from the city reflected onto the low ceiling as a deep lassitude drifted into me. I ran my tongue across the insides of my caps to find the taste of him all the way to the back of my throat, and I couldn’t concentrate well enough to decide if I liked finding it there or not. My pulse was slowing, taking my thoughts with it. I knew I should be worried about Ivy, but all I could manage was a sleepy, “Ivy…”

“Sh-h-h-h,” he whispered, his hand ever moving, soothing me. “It’s okay. I’ll make sure she understands.”

“I’m not leaving you, Kisten,” I said, but it sounded like I was trying to convince myself.

“I know.”

And in his silence that followed, I heard the echoes of the women before me who had said the same thing. “It wasn’t a mistake,” I whispered, eyes closing. I knew I was blood-sugared, his pheromones probably hitting me especially hard from my having taken his blood. “I didn’t make a mistake.”

His hand moving atop my head never slowed, never sped up. “Not a mistake,” he agreed.

Reassured, I lay against him and inhaled his scent to find comfort. I wasn’t going to abandon that feeling, no matter what. “So what do we do now?” I breathed as I started to fall into sleep.

“Whatever the hell we want,” he answered. “Sh-h-h-h, go to sleep.”