His Captive Mortal by Renee Rose

obeying the command from her brain. “Wait, Charlie?”
    He did not turn around, continuing toward her bathroom.
    She followed. “Charlie?”
    He stopped and whirled, looking annoyed. “What?”
    She drew back and swallowed. “Charlie,” she said, her voice soft and coaxing. “Why didn’t you finish?”
    His face turned to stone. “Go back to your studying,” he snapped, pointing toward the living room.
    “No, wait—” she touched his arm.
    He dematerialized and she screamed his name in frustration, “Charlie!”
    A flicker of his image appeared before her and he returned, staring at her with some deep, unrecognizable emotion.
    “Is—is that the curse?”
    He gave a single nod.
    Abruptly, she burst into tears.
    He frowned.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said, not even knowing why she wept. “How terrible,” she cried.
    He appeared bewildered, his customary arrogance gone.
    She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m going to fix it for you, I promise,” she said, although she had no idea how. “You shouldn’t have to live like this. I’m sorry.”
    He grasped the back of her neck and brought his lips to her ear, his fang running lightly over the edges of it. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her back to the bed and laid her down, stretching out beside her with his head propped in his hand and an arm around her back. “Sasha,” he murmured, sounding choked with emotion. “So sweet,” he said, kissing her temple. “So much fire…” He kissed her eyelids “...so much heart. I’m humbled by your example.”
    She ran her hand over his chest, then sat up and tugged at the hem of his shirt. She wanted to see him naked, even if he couldn’t have sex.
    He sat up and allowed her to remove the shirt.
    She tossed it on the floor and pushed him back down, running her fingernails through his golden chest hair, admiring the lines of his sculpted torso. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured.
    He looked tired, his face still drawn as if in pain. His cock had relaxed slightly, but still remained engorged.
    “Would ice help?”
    He gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t fuss over me. Just keep to your studies, little mortal. I believe in you.”
    Her eyes smarted again. She truly hoped she could release the spell.
    She formed a tiny bubble of soft pink light and sent it floating toward him.
    He smiled, watching it gently glide toward him. “What is that?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she lied.
    It was love. It had poured out of her heart and into her fingers as she formed it for him.
    “Is it for me? It’s beautiful.” He ducked his head to dodge it and touched it with his finger, yanking it away quickly as if burned. “I can’t have it. Can you tone it down a little?”
    She considered, looking from him to the ball, then simply imagined its light dimmer, its color lighter and softer, so it became almost translucent, like the bubble a child blows through a plastic ring.
    He smiled, watching, as if fascinated, then cupped the ball and ushered it to his chest, where it melted into his heart.
    Had he known?
    He held his hand over his heart for a long moment, looking at her with feeling. “Thank you,” he said as if touched beyond words.
    She shivered, a sense of déjà vu running through her.
     
     
     
     
    Telling Sasha the secret he’d kept to himself for over one hundred years eased some terrible fissure within him, but it also made the pain of it resurface. It was as if he had encapsulated the wound with a protective coating, and now that he’d shared it, the original pain returned full force.
    The pink bubble she’d sent seemed to go right to the source of his pain, deep within his unbeating heart. It moved him, that she would give her gift so freely, without any coercion or bargain, without any promise of return. It had been so long since he’d trusted anyone. Maybe not since Anka, and that had been a mistake.
    “Why did you scream when I dematerialized?” he