Matthew turned to walk away.
He could still hear the witches blood singing in her veins, pushing through the blood vessels and arteries. He knew from experience that he, particularly, would not be able to resist it for long. If he glanced at her quickly and didn't hold eye-contact he would be able to keep his mind on something else. No such luck.
But she called him back, a Siren's song. Like Odysseus tying himself to the mast he walked back to her and listened to her theories on the book, the palimpsest.
All he could think about was the blood, that was rushing through her veins, and the sound that it made if he looked closely enough he could see the ebb and flow through her translucent skin.
Just for a second he allowed himself to wonder what she may taste like. Spilling her blood would affect his increasingly desperate senses in ways he did not want to contemplate.
He could think of nothing else. He closed his eyes. He had to gain control to be able to be around this woman, this beautiful, arousing woman who was smiling at him and telling him things that she should not. she had absolutely no idea about vampires, he was worried for her.
He could bear it no longer, he looked down into her eyes and he was lost. Totally and irrevocably lost forever. A smile played at the edges of his lips and his fingers itched to touch her face and smooth the stray hair behind her ears. He wanted to do it, just to see the blood rush to her cheeks and the surprise play across her eyes, this time he denied himself.
Blood and lust and hunger were all mixed up and tied to this one woman. He was starting to believe that his fate was tied up to her too.
He had never felt like this before.
He smiled at her and saw her earnestness, in a moment of weakness he took her wrist in his hand. It was small and delicate and his thumb and forefinger could circle it perfectly. He bent his head. He could not resist, how could he be expected to?
He was the stone mason, assassin, spy and scholar but above all he was the vampire.
But, incredibly in that moment he was also a man, a man who wanted this woman above anyone else, he thought he might be able to kill for her, he wasn't sure yet.
He bent his head looking down and despite hearing the whoosh of her blood he pressed his cold lips onto Diana's skin.
He tasted Lady's Mantle and Honeysuckle.
It was a test. It was a prayer, and for him a promise of things to come.
Overcome as her pulse sped up under his lips and warmed them until he felt alive. He stood up avoiding her gaze, turned and walked away.
He had never before exercised such self-control and caution all at once; it was killing him.
As he walked slowly away, he was careful not to look round.
Abstinence was a painful thing.