Bound to the Vampire Read Online Free Page A

the thought. She held a hand to her chest as her heart broke in two all over again.
    She should have slapped his face, told him to go straight to hell. She shouldn’t have danced with him. She shouldn’t have let him touch her; his caress was her kryptonite.
    Staring out at the dark ocean, she couldn’t stop herself from reliving those first exquisite moments when he’d pulled her into his arms. It’s where she’d once belonged, and for so very long, she’d yearned to return. How sick could she be? He’d used her. Betrayed her love.
    How could she trust him again?
    Her eyelids snapped open. What was she thinking?
    “You will not trust him again, Valencia. You will not.” He’d taken everything she’d ever hoped for, dreamed of, loved and he’d ripped it in two. Him and his father.
    And still, she’d waited for him. Hoped he’d come to his senses. Dieu , she was pathetic.
    Sucking in a deep breath, she held it for two heartbeats and then exhaled. And again. And again, until she didn’t feel quite so breathless. When the organ in the center of her chest didn’t feel quite so bruised.
    Who was she kidding?
    Her knees gave. So did her tear ducts.
    Fat teardrops rolled down her cheeks and she let them fall as she fell gracelessly to the floor in a flurry of silk and feathers. The grief had been a long time coming.
    Knowing he was still alive and he hadn’t come for her during the two centuries they’d been apart hurt almost as much as the words he’d spoken that night. Almost.
    Worse, one look into his eyes sent her right back to the last time she’d been in his arms, succumbing to his kiss, begging for his touch. They’d made frantic, sweet love before the sun came up. He’d left her with a kiss that promised an eternity of love and passion.
    And that’d been it. The last time. Her final good memory of him.
    The memories from long ago blended with tonight’s reality. The layers of fine fabrics hugging his tall, lean body to perfection. The bland scent of his soap. The tendril of hair that dared to curl over his forehead, begging for her touch.
    Tonight he’d been as dapper as he’d ever been. Damn, the man knew how to fill out a tuxedo. He’d always kept up with the times. She’d once teased him that he dressed better than she did.
    That still seemed to be the case. She fingered the golden embroidery on her skirt.
    But today his scent, the hint of cologne clinging to him, reaching out to her…it’d been divine. She’d breathed him in and wanted to keep doing so indefinitely.
    His hair was different though. Just as dark, but tamed by a haircut and perhaps his fingers. That had once been her fingers’ job.
    A tear plopped against the side of her hand, just above the knuckle of her thumb. She wiped it away.
    Stop crying.
    He wasn’t worth crying over.
    Haven’t you already used up all the tears he was alloted?
    “V?”
    Avery’s voice jarred Valencia out of her fog. She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. But before she could make it to her feet, Avery was squatting down next to her, her big eyes wide with concern.
    “I don’t need to ask if you’re okay,” Avery said quietly and sat down, carefully arranging her dress. She stretched her legs out and took off her silver and gold mask.
    Valencia was furious with herself for crying, for feeling anything at all where Dameon was concerned. She glanced up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly.
    “So that’s him.”
    Avery didn’t need to put a name or label to it. Valencia knew exactly what and who she meant. During a moment of weakness, and honesty, Valencia had told Avery about her marriage that wasn’t. The wedding that almost was.
    What she hadn’t told Avery was that she and Dameon had the kind of love that lasted an eternity. At least, she’d thought they had.
    How did one recover from that?
    Valencia sighed. How could she be back to that question; hadn’t she asked it a thousand times over the years? The only answer she’d come up with was