“Says the man who’s slept with millions of women.”
Millions? Not quite. Thousands was more like it. But if Nina was willing, he’d happily make that just one.
One?
Was he really willing to only have her? No others for variety’s sake? The mere thought that he was contemplating this should have sent him running for cover, as if the sun was about to rise. But he wasn’t inclined to do anything of the like.
“You’re exaggerating a little.”
“Am I? How old are you?”
He realized what she was getting at. She was trying to estimate how many women he’d had. “Old enough to know not to answer that question.”
“Ha, I knew it. You’re constantly hiding things. You can’t be trusted.”
Amaury had to suppress the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her to convince her otherwise. It wouldn’t be the right way to do this. He needed her to believe him, not because he was kissing her senseless, but because he could reason with her.
Again he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I know it’s not easy to trust somebody you’ve just met, but you and I, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve fought together. My life was in your hands, and yours in mine. Don’t you think you could at least try to give me a chance? Yes, my past isn’t exactly as squeaky clean as that of a choir boy, but I haven’t touched or even thought of another woman since I met you. That’s never happened to me.”
Nina’s eyes met his. “Never?”
“No. All I can think of is being with you.”
Finally he saw her soften. She dropped her arms to the sides. He inched closer.
“I’d like to kiss you,” he said, “but I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do.” Amaury searched her eyes for consent.
“Amaury, I’m so confused. I don’t know whether I can trust anybody. I don’t understand what’s happening to me when I’m with you.” Her eyes grew moist. “You make me mad one minute and—” She swallowed hard. “—and weak another.”
“Weak?” He shook his head. “You’re not weak. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. And yet …”
Nina raised her lashes and looked at him expectantly.
He sighed. “I can’t help myself, but I want to protect you even when I know you can take care of yourself. Crazy, huh?”
A faint smile stole around her lips. “Maybe we’re both a little crazy—or just a little tired.”
Amaury took her cue. “Come, you need to sleep. We both do. And I want to hold you in my arms. I promise you, you’ll be safe with me.”
Ten minutes later he had his wish: Nina was in his bed where he held her closely. He sighed contently. There was no wild sex, no passionate kissing, no frantic touching this time. Having her in his arms was enough tonight. Enough for him, the least likely vampire to cuddle? He shook his head in disbelief. Clearly, something strange was happening to him if he felt satisfied with merely having her in his arms. The only time he ever held a woman in his arms was when he was fucking her. This—this was different. And he couldn’t get enough of this newfound intimacy with her.
“Chérie, why do you make me feel this way?” he whispered, but she didn’t hear him. She was already asleep.
Twenty-two
Lights were ablaze in the bare underground interrogation room at Scanguards. Gabriel stood back, Quinn by his side, as Zane took over the questioning of the suspect. He rarely allowed Zane to unleash his brutality on anybody, but this time even he felt it necessary. Paul Holland, the man who’d attacked Nina and who was somehow involved in the bodyguard murders, wasn’t talking.
Samson had ordered that nobody was to interfere when it came to Amaury’s relationship with the human woman. When he’d issued his directive, Gabriel had heard the grin in Samson’s voice, as if he was extraordinarily pleased with himself. He hadn’t questioned his boss, but he sure wanted to know what had brought on this turnaround, especially after everybody had been advised days earlier to minimize their contact with humans.
He shook his head in silence and turned his attention back to Zane and the suspect. The bald vampire was as much known for his utter lack of compassion as for his convincing torture techniques which bordered on medieval. Scanguards’ interrogation room wasn’t equipped for torture. Rather, it was a training room for bodyguards. But Zane didn’t need many tools.
While Zane would have probably enjoyed stretching the man on a rack, there were certainly more subtle ways to dig up information.