She hadn’t said that. But all the same, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The gentleness of it stole his breath. She brushed the fingertips of one hand against his cheek, her touch as light and silken as a moth’s wings. Already he wanted more. Wanted to taste her, tease her, caress her, until nothing remained between them but bliss. Above all, he wanted to wash away the horrible memories she had of him and build new ones. He had to keep his emotions at bay and let her take control to work out her fear. He refused to frighten her with animal need. She was the girl, his girl, not some random hookup he could use and toss aside. When she pulled away, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t react; his lips tingling from her heat. For a moment, he’d known completion. “What’s your name?” she asked. He thought back to Madame Eve’s email. If she trusts you, she will tell you her name. He understood the power of names, and so did Madame Eve. Something insignificant to a mortal meant everything to a vampire, in whose world names were both salvation and control.
