Cortez wasn’t next to her in the bed where he’d been when she’d fallen asleep, though it was still dark out. She checked the clock. It was well past midnight. She called out for him, a bit disoriented. There was no reply. At first she thought she’d had too much Champagne, then realized it was the boat rocking, not her brain.

Easing out of bed, she found one of his shirts and slipped it on. It covered her adequately. Then she peeked into the small, but softly-lit hallway. No sign of the crew. Most of them must be asleep but for those needed to guide the ship.

She padded toward the stairs that led to the salon, which was lit only by the moon, as was the figure on the deck she spied through the panoramic windows. She squinted to see better. A shirtless Cortez with his arms around Emily, the stewardess. His fangs were in her neck and she was moaning as though she was loving every second.

The unexpected sight made Naia gasp out loud.

Cortez lifted his whiskey eyes, meeting her gaze. Unable to look away, she watched as he nuzzled the woman’s flesh, his fangs seated. Her stomach and heart took turns flipping around, making her nauseous and dizzy and desperate for an escape.

Pushing past the shock, she turned and raced back down the stairs to their compartment. There she paced, anxiety and adrenaline going to war.

He needed to feed, she reasoned. He’s a vampire. That’s what they did. He wasn’t getting nourishment from her. She’d taken that off the table, so of course he had to go elsewhere. It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything.

So why was she so staggered?

Moments later, he entered the room, eyeing her warily as if expecting her wrath. She wanted to give him so much wrath.

Not my place. Not my right.

Breathe in. Breathe out. “Good snack?” she inquired, her tone light but with an underlying bitchy quality that she hadn’t meant to weave in.

“Did it bother you to see? I’d hoped to do it while you slept.”

“It’s fine.” She said. “Totally fine. I didn’t mean to intrude.” What was the correct response here? Was she supposed to be angry? Hurt? Or glad that he’d fed so that he didn’t inadvertently bite her when they made love. Her feelings were mixed. And she was battling a primal urge to go back up there and throw Emily overboard.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” he said. “I need to know.”

“It’s fine. Totally fine.”

“You said that. Somehow I don’t believe it.”

She plopped down on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I never expected to...I mean, I’ve never seen that happening before. It’s always been done behind closed doors at Dante’s. But then there it was. Right in my face. And it was you. And we’ve only known each other a couple days, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. But I...well...I’m rambling.” She took in a heavy breath, let it out slowly. “I should have realized you’d be feeding while we’re together. I have no right to be upset.”

“So it did upset you?”

She shrugged.

He sat next to her. “Out of respect for your wishes, I must feed from others while we’re together. But I would much rather take from you, should you allow it.”

“I...” Could she let him feed from her? Somehow she knew him taking her blood would be outrageously intimate, more so than sex alone, and could even spur a connection that she might not be able to fathom. Already she could see herself falling for him without that arcane link. Even if she’d only be with him for a week, she’d need to actively shield her heart, which had no business getting involved in this caper. After he was through with her and they separated, she’d need to be able to walk away intact. A clean break. Giving him her blood could only bring them closer....

But the thought of him drinking from Emily again, or any of the other crew, cut something dark and possessive through her. Could she give him a taste of her essence while remaining detached? “I...I have to think about it.”

He nodded. “If it’s not something you can condone, I completely understand. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

He meant it, she realized. Feeding for him was a way of life. A non-issue. Equated to her own dependence on food.

Only, her food didn’t moan in ecstasy when she took a bite.