If he needed to feed before Ji-Su was ready, there was always packaged blood. He didn’t care for them, but he could deal with their empty taste for a month or so. Especially since he’d eventually be rewarded with the sweet taste of Ji-Su’s blood.
The night he’d brought Ji-Su to the ranch, the rich, warm scent of the spilled blood on his neck had teased his nose, making his fangs tingle. He would hold the memory of that lovely scent within him until the night he sank his fangs into the golden skin of Ji-Su’s throat and let his exquisite blood spill over his tongue. But for now, he would wait. Raul rinsed the soap suds away and shut off the shower. He would tell Ji-Su of his decision in the evening.
Chapter 9
Ji-Su lay in bed trying to sleep. He didn’t normally have a hard time dropping off. But his mind was so heavy with anger at Cedric that he couldn’t relax. It wasn’t only the cost of the damage that was bothering him. Thanks to his contract with Raul, he’d be able to start making his purchases once he received his first payment in a couple of weeks. And while he was absolutely pissed at the money he would have to spend, his main upset came from the sick, almost violated feeling in the pit of his stomach. Cedric’s destruction of his physical property felt personal. As if the vampire had destroyed his stuff as a proxy for hurting him. He’d never experienced anything like this before and he couldn’t turn off his fear and worry over it.
Plus, there was a storm raging outside. He hated storms.
The wind blew fiercely, sounding as though it were attempting to get in through the windows. Ji-Su tried to stay calm. But when lightning cracked, flooding his room with electric white light, he jumped up out of the bed in a messy scramble and flew across the polished hardwood floor. Throwing open the door, he rushed out into the hall, running to Raul’s room.
His heart pounding, he knocked, hoping that since the sun hadn’t yet cleared the horizon that Raul wouldn’t be in that deep sleep that took over vampires during the day. “Mr. Raul, it’s Ji-Su.”
“Come in,” came from the other side of the door.
He opened the door just enough to slip inside and shut it behind him. Raul sat up in the middle of a big bed, his dark hair rumpled and his chest bare.
“I’m sorry to wake you but it’s the storm. I umm... I get nervous during big storms like this. Can I sleep in here with you? In that chair over there is fine.” He pointed at a big leather wingback chair in the corner of the massive bedroom.
Raul shook his head.
Ji-Su was immediately disappointed at the rejection and embarrassed for asking in the first place. Of course Raul said no. He probably thought Ji-Su was too old to get freaked out by storms. “I understand,” he said as he turned to go.
“No. Not the chair,” Raul said in a voice husky from sleep.
Ji-Su stopped and turned back around. Raul was holding the corner of the covers up for him.
“Get in here.”
Relieved, Ji-Su hurried across the room. He didn’t question why he felt so safe with Raul—he simply climbed into bed with him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as he slid beneath the covers. “I know it’s silly to be afraid of storms.”
“It’s not. We all have something we fear.”
“What do you fear?”
“Big Foot.”
“You’re joking.”
A small smile curled one side of Raul’s lips. “Maybe.”
Ji-Su didn’t believe for one second that Raul was afraid of Big Foot. But he appreciated the gentle humor to help put him at ease. Trying not to be obvious, he scooted over the mattress to get a little closer to Raul. He’d just stealthily moved another inch when a heavy arm draped across his waist, pulling him up against the warm, solid wall of Raul’s chest.
“Is that better?”
Apparently, he hadn’t been sneaky enough. However, he was too happy he was being comforted to be embarrassed he’d been caught. Ji-Su nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Raul.”
“You’re welcome. But didn’t I tell you to stop calling me Mr. Raul?”
Ji-Su blushed and ducked his head. “I can’t help it. You’re the head of the household. And nearly everyone else calls you that. It feels like what I’m supposed to call you.”
Raul tucked a finger beneath his chin, lifting his face up so that their eyes met.
“Others address me that way because I’m their boss or out of respect. Neither of those apply to you. Where you’re concerned, I’m just Raul. Okay?”
Laying there in Raul’s bed, pressed up against his body, speaking to each other in quiet tones while the storm raged outside was indeed too intimate to address his patron so formally. “I... Okay. Raul.”
“Good. Do you think you can sleep now?”