Aiden’s close cut fingernails traced an inch above my newly acquired bruises and tooth marks on my neck. "Are you ok?" he breathed. My eyes slid shut at the concern in his voice. He had wanted to come over last night and I appreciated that he hadn’t when I asked him not to. "I’m fine," I said, toying with the idea of telling him that they hadn’t played fair, five alphas binding into a round to give their bitch the advantage in an already unfair fight. But it was so unusual and occurrence that I was afraid he would say I was making it up and it sounded too much like whinning to me. Instead I leaned my head against him and took in his scent: a mix of dark leather and silk. He was wearing a black cotton tee that pulled tightly across his shoulders, but the aroma of silk and leather remained. I hadn’t identified that particular scent with vamps until I started living with Ashley, but now I could tell with my eyes closed whether it was Ashley or Aiden in the room. Either scent was delicious, and I breathed deeply, willingly taking in the vampire pheromones he was unconciously giving off to soothe and relax me. It was and addaption to make finding a willing source of blood easier. Not that Aiden and I were sharing blood. Not me. Not this little witch. No how or ever. The risk of becoming a play thing, my will given to a vampire, was too real. But that didn’t mean I could enjoy the mild buzz.

I could hear his heartbeat and I lingered while his fingers traced a yummy path to the small of my back. My forehead came to his shoulder, lower than usual, since he was in boots and i was in socks. His exhaled breath stirred my breath. The sensation brought my head up, and I met his green eyes squarely  from under his long bangs, reading the normal sized pupils that he had slked his blood lust before coming over. He usually did"I like it when you smell like dirt," he said, his eyes halflidded and sly. Smiling I ran a fingernail down his rough cheek. He had a small nose and chin, and he usually kept a day’s worth of stubble to give himself a more rugged cast. His hair was dyed a light brown to match his almost beared, though I had yet to catch him with darker roots or a charm to color it. "What’s the real color of your hair?" I asked impulsively as I played with the wispy strands at the nape of his neck. He pulled away, blinking in surprise. Two slices of toast popped up, ans he shifted to the counter, bringing out a plate and setting the bread on it. "Ah, its brown." My eyes roved over his very nice backside, and I slumped against the counter, enjoying the view. The rims of his ears were a faint red, and I pushed into motion, leaning to run a finger along his torn ear where someone had ripped out one of the twin diamond studs. His right ear still held both studs and I wondered who had the missing earring. I would have asked, but was afraid he’d tell me Ashley had it. "You dye your hair," I insisted. "What color is it really?"