Victor growled low in his throat as she arched into him and he almost didn’t register what she had said. He froze suddenly. “Wha’ would you have me do then love?” There was a fear in his eyes that he tried to mask. He didn’t think he could really /be/ anything else, he was a killer and had known little else. Yet at the same time, he wanted to be better, for her and for his safety.
Summer brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones. “Stay with me. Love me, raise ocelots and smaller cats and maybe one day a child of our own.” Her face was troubled, a little sad, a little yearning, as she looked up into his eyes. “There’s more to you than danger, and I don’t think I could take it if you disappeared again.”
That yanked at Victor’s heart more than anything else ever could. Despite his love of danger and playboy attitude he secretly yearned to have a family of his own. The idea scared the hell out of him but he wanted to be a father, sometime in the future. “I-but…” The protest died on his lips, not really having an actual argument. He stopped trying to mask the fear in his eyes and let Summer see it. He was scared, all he knew was killing. He was scared of fucking things up. What right did he really have settling down? Having a family maybe. “Alright, an’ wha’ should we do about my obvious problem with blood? I can’t live off of bagged blood. I can’t only feed off of you, it’d kill you.”
“Shit,” she swore wearily. “I don’t know. I just — I can’t do this again, not knowing, being afraid for you.” She blinked, trying not to cry, but it was too late. Hot tears slid down past her ears, and she freed a hand to rub at her face. “Sorry. Sorry.”