Xavier responded as she’d known he would, scooping her up and bringing her closer, until she was tucked up against his side, with both of his powerful arms around her. God, she loved that. Loved the feeling of a strong man pulling her across the sheets to take her in his arms. No other man had ever made her feel that way. Feminine and fragile. And she loved it. She didn’t care if it made her less than liberated, or not sexually actualized or whatever other tags some people would put on it. She kicked ass everywhere else in her life. But when she was in bed with her lover, she could feel anything she damn well wanted.
“So there,” she muttered.
“There what?”
She wriggled a micro-fraction closer. “I was talking to myself.”
“Should I be insulted that you prefer your own conversation when I’m lying right here?”
“The conversation was very flattering to you.”
“Well. I feel better then.”
She slid a leg over his thigh and said, “You feel great.”
“You said you loved me.”
She frowned at the seeming non sequitur, and had to think a moment before answering, though that hadn’t been a question at all, had it? “I do love you,” she said cautiously. “What’s going on?”
“And I love you. Would you like to get married?”
She sat up and stared, even though she couldn’t see him in the pitch black room. “I didn’t know vampires got married,” she replied, then pinched herself to be sure she was awake and this was really happening.
“You grew up here. How can you say that?”
“I didn’t pay much attention to who was married, or who was mated, or who was shacking up. It didn’t matter to me then.”
“But it matters to you now?”
“Well, yeah. I know the difference now.”
“How? You’ve never been married.”
This had to be the strangest conversation she’d ever had, and that wasn’t even taking into account that she was lying in bed naked, with a vampire lord, in his bedroom vault beneath an ancient stronghold, in Spain. “No,” she agreed, “I’ve never been married, but I know people who have. So I have a fairly good idea of how it works.”
“Good. So . . . you want to get married?”
“Xavier, where is this coming from?”
“I love you,” he said somewhat defensively. “I was lying here thinking about that while you slept, and I realized how much I wanted you to stay. Not just in the Fortalesa, but here with me, in my bed. And then I thought you probably wouldn’t think the mating ceremony is official enough. Certainly not grand enough. No twenty-thousand-dollar wedding gown, no flowers, no church filled with flowers, with Ferran walking you down the aisle, and all the rest. I’ve never actually been to a wedding—I saw most of that on television. But I know it’s an important day for women.”
“For some,” she amended.
“Not for you?”
“No. I never saw the point.”
He was silent longer than she was comfortable with. At least in this conversation. But then he sighed, his deep chest moving up and down beneath her ear, before he asked, “What do you want, Layla?”
“What I’ve always wanted,” she admitted, suddenly taking the entire conversation much more seriously. “You.”
“Then stay with me,” he said quietly. “Be with me. As my mate.”
It was her turn to remain silent, but not because she didn’t understand what he was saying. But because she did. And it had tears filling her eyes all over again.
“Layla?” He shrugged his shoulder, which had the effect of lifting her face so he could see her better. Which was great for him, since she could see jack all in the pitch black room. “Are you crying, cariño? Are you unhappy?”
“No,” she said softly. “I mean, yes, I’m crying, a little. But I’m happy. Happy my father will soon be back home and well, but mostly . . . happy to be here, with you. Even though I didn’t believe I would be when I first came back.” She propped herself on one arm and looked up to where his beautiful face had to be, knowing he could see her, which was what mattered in that moment. “And yes, I want to stay here with you. And damn it, yes. I’ll be your mate.”
She’d swear his heart beat a little bit faster then, when he put his arms around her and rolled, until she was completely covered by his weight and warmth. Her arms circled his neck when he kissed her. It was the kind of kiss they wrote songs about, she thought. Warm and romantic and full of emotion. Full of love. And oh damn it, she was going to cry again. She never cried like this. Like a girl. But hell, if she couldn’t shed a few happy tears now, when could she? The love of her life . . . literally, the Love. Of. Her. Life had just asked her to be his mate. That was about as serious as vampires ever got. Mating was for permanent. It was for life. She was going to be Xavier’s mate.
When the kiss ended, he licked up her tears and kissed her closed eyelids, one at a time. “Llàgrimes de felicitate,” he murmured. Tears of happiness. “Now,” he growled.
“What?”
“I want to complete our mating now.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He made an exasperated noise. “How can you have lived here and not know?” he repeated.
“Because no one ever asked me before,” she explained, just as exasperated as he was.
“I’m a vampire, Layla. Everything we do involves blood. The mating is blood. I take yours—”
“You’ve already done that more than once.”
“And you take mine.”
“Oh. That’s . . . new.”
He laughed. “It’s ancient.”
“New to me, then. Interesting. Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s do this. I want to get my hooks into you, so I can give the next buxom beauty who glances your way a fully justified split lip.”
The noise he made this time was nothing short of preening pleasure. “You’re jealous.”
“Uh huh. Just like you’re jealous of Brian.”