Not his right at all, Rio thought grimly as he placed the blanket over her as lightly as he could. Not one damn bit of her was his to desire.
But yet he did.
God, did he ever.
He burned with want, even knowing he shouldn't. Rio told himself it was purely accidental that his hands brushed along her curves as he dragged the silk coverlet higher. He didn't mean to let his fingers trail through her soft hair, the flame-red waves dampened slightly from a recent washing. He couldn't resist smoothing his thumb along the fine slope of her cheek and over the velvety skin below her ear.
And there was no biting back his whispered curse as his gaze lit on the small bandage that covered the cut he'd given her.
Shit. This was all he truly had to offer her - pain and apologies. And the only reason she was letting him get this close to her now was because she didn't know he was there.
Wasn't awake to see the beast standing over her in the dark, stealing touches and contemplating what it would be like to do far more. Wanting her so badly that his fangs were biting into his tongue, and his lust-changed eyes were throwing off some seriously intense amber light. Those Breed high beams were bathing her in a burnished glow, illuminating every dip and swell and delectable curve.
He drew his hand away from her and she stirred, probably from the heat of his transformed gaze. A quick downward sweep of his lids cut the twin spotlights, plunging the room into total darkness again.
Rio backed away from her without making a sound.
Then he crept out of the bedroom before he could prove himself any more of the thief he feared he could easily become when it came to this female.
At first Dylan thought it was the touch that woke her, but the tender fingers caressing her cheek had been a soothing warmth that made sleep feel more luxurious. It was the abrupt absence of that warmth that pulled her out of what had been a very pleasant dream.
She opened her eyes, seeing nothing but darkness in the bedroom.
Rio's bedroom.
Rio's bed.
She sat up at the realization, feeling awkward as hell that she'd fallen asleep here after taking a shower earlier that night. Or was it day? She didn't know, and couldn't tell, since there were no windows to be found in all two-thousand-plus square feet of Rio's apartment.
The place was dark and still, but Dylan didn't think she was alone.
"Hello?"
A whole lot of quiet was all she heard in response.
She peered out toward the living room and noticed that the lamp she'd left on was off now. And someone definitely had been in here at some point, because whoever it was had covered her with a light blanket that used to be draped over one of the bedroom chairs.
It was Rio. She knew it absolutely.
It had been him beside the bed not a moment ago. His touch that had felt so good against her skin, and so cold when it was gone.
Dylan pivoted around and put her bare feet on the floor. She padded to the closed French doors, opening them softly as she strained to see anything in the lightless living room on the other side.
"Rio...are you asleep?"
She didn't ask if he was there; she knew he was. She could feel his presence in the way her heart was racing, blood speeding through her veins. Dylan walked across the carpeted floor to where she remembered seeing a squat ginger jar lamp on a little writing desk. She felt her way there, reaching out carefully for the cold porcelain base of the lamp.
"Leave it off."
Dylan swiveled her head toward the sound of Rio's voice. He was to her right, near the center of the room. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light, she could see him in the large, dark form seated on the velvet sofa, his body and long limbs devouring the petite lines of the furniture.
"You can have your bed. I didn't mean to fall asleep there."
She walked deeper into the room...and heard a low growl rumble from his direction.
Oh, God. She froze where she was standing, just a few steps away from the sofa. Was he in the throes of another meltdown like earlier? Or had he not fully recovered from that one yet?
Dylan cleared her throat. Braved another step toward him. "Are you...um, do you...need anything? Because if there's something I can do - "
"God damn it!" The sound of his voice was more desperate than angry. He pulled one of his faster-than-you-can-blink maneuvers, shooting up off the sofa and moving back against the far wall. As far as he could get from her. "Dylan, please. Just go back to bed. You need to stay away from me."
That was probably really good advice. Staying away from a vampire with a traumatic brain injury and a nuclear-grade level of uncontrollable rage was probably about the smartest thing she could do. Yet Dylan's feet kept moving, like all her common sense and survival instincts had packed up and gone on a sudden vacation.
"I'm not afraid of you, Rio. I don't think you're going to hurt me."
He didn't say anything to confirm or deny it. Dylan could hear him breathing - if the sharp, shallow panting qualified as such. She felt like she was walking up on a wounded wild animal, unsure if reaching out to him was going to win her a bit of uneasy trust or a vicious taste of fang and claw.
"You were in the bedroom with me a few minutes ago...weren't you?" She inched steadily forward, undaunted by the weight of his silence or the darkness that concealed him in shadow. "You touched me. I felt your hand on my face. I...I liked it, Rio. I didn't want you to stop."
He hissed a nasty, violent curse. She felt rather than saw his head come up sharply. There was a pause, and then he must have opened his eyes because the darkness was suddenly pierced by two glowing embers aimed straight at her.
"Your eyes..." she murmured, caught like a moth in a flame.