After a long evening navigating intrigue that would make Cersei Lannister tremble, we were able to survive and make our way home to Carver’s castle at Versailles.

Home. I’ve only been in France for a little over a day. I haven’t spent much time in his manor, but it’s home. Anywhere that Carver and I can be together is the place my heart belongs, the hearth I can cling to. Carver was quiet on the way home, and I let him have that silence. Morana had humiliated him, and Hugo had dug in his barbs as well. For someone as proud and strong as Carver, it would take time to work his way through those insults.

However, while I get that Carver needs some space, there’s only so much patience I can show tonight. I’m starving, and I need to feed. But it’s more than that. Carver needs to be reminded of who he is now, of who he is to me. He’s not Morana’s anymore, and he’s not just the Lord of Pleasure. I know when I first started to understand his old role in the court that I mocked him for being the queen’s whore too. But he’s not that man anymore. He’s not her whore; he’s my champion.

Even though Carver makes a mad dash through the estate the second the limo driver pulls to a stop, I don’t let him escape. He pours on the speed and loses me at first. The labyrinthine hallways bob and weave endlessly and, if I were human, he’d have lost me for sure. I’m not, though, not anymore, and I have needs only he can fill. Opening up my senses, I focus my nose and find him, that spicy, enticing scent that’s purely Carver. Only Carver. Running as fast as I can, I find myself out on a balcony not too far from the west wing where Reina and Row were staying. His hands are planted on the balcony’s railing and he’s staring ferociously up at the stars as if they can offer the answers to the secrets of the universe.

“Ma belle, I know I promised you fun in the middle of these tedious court dealings, but I cannot tonight.”

“You knew I was here?”

“I always know. I could feel you before I even got to the United States that first time. I was sent for you, but my blood and my body would have dragged me there regardless. You called to me.”

My hand grazes over his cheek, the roughness of his stubble teasing my palm. “Then, let me calm you now. You’re upset, I’m hungry, and we’re both stressed. Carver, love, we need each other.”

He swallows hard and his Adam’s apple bobs with the motion. Lust flashes to life within me and my core is already wet and ready with need. That’s the power he has over me, the draw I can never resist. That I’d never want to ignore.

“I can’t.”

“If this is about that bitch Morana or Hugo…”

“Hugo may have information that could help us. I despise him, but I don’t cut off my sources out of spite. Too much is at stake.”

“Then about Morana---”

“This is actually about Harlow.”

I blink, confused as fuck. If anyone has a past with Harlow, then it’s Lucian. While they’re clearly on good terms too, Carver’s not exactly close to her. “I don’t understand.”

Carver pulls his phone from his tuxedo pants pocket and flips to a message. “I received it in the limo on the way home. That’s what I was mulling over when I was so silent.”

If that’s all he wants to admit to, I’ll let him. I get that any news from a prophetess can be scary as hell, but there’s more bothering him. We’ll come back to that later, to everything that Morana has done to him, to all she’s taken from him. He slides the phone into my palm and I skim it. My heart lurches into my throat, and I have to be reading it wrong.

Carvell, you must leave Paris, leave EUROPE, as soon as you can. Something dark is coming---rising even as I type this---to torment you. Get out while you still can, H.

“I don’t…this can’t be,” I say. Air won’t come into my lungs. I don’t need it to live anymore, but I need something to help me speak. That hasn’t changed. Gulping anything into my lungs takes so much effort, almost as if I’ve forgotten how to do it. “She just saw this?”

Carver nods and pulls the phone back. “That’s all she saw. I already probed her further down the text chain. Chérie, I’ve been the assassin for the Kresova queen for centuries, or I was before I stepped back. There’s always torment and hardship. I’m not leaving you alone with the court unguarded, and I’m not abandoning our search for the Drias or for Abehartach. It matters too much.”

Reaching up, I force him to look at me. The pain swimming in those arctic eyes cuts through me like a blade. “If I lose you, then nothing else matters. We can’t unite all the Drias and stop this madness without my harem intact. If Harlow says danger is coming, you have to go.”

“She says torment. It could be an emotional test. It’s true that she can catch a glimpse of the future, but she doesn’t know every detail.”

“You trusted her enough to bring me to her.”

“Yes, but I’m not leaving you alone in Morana’s backyard. You won’t survive it. She’ll try something treacherous when she has the chance, and I’m not leaving.”

“We’ll get Lucian here, or at least let me call Rowland and Reina back here. Row can have my back.” Changing tactics, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my face to his back. “I’m not letting you get hurt for me. I’m not worth that. Fuck, I’d never ask for that.”

Finally, Carver turns around to face me. Sweeping me into his arms, he draws me so close that my lips are inches from his. Every instinct within me screams to kiss him, that everything can be solved by making love. But that’s not correct, not this time. Some things have to be said with words.

“Chérie,” he says, his voice as smooth as hot fudge and as delicious. “You don’t have to ask. It’s what I want to give. You’re my queen---my real queen---and I love you.”

“I love you too, Carver. I couldn’t live without you. The mission matters and I matter, but if I lose you, then what’s the fucking point?”

This time he does kiss me. His tongue caressing my own, his breath hot and tender in my mouth. I can taste the gin and vermouth he had at the court, the hint of blood from him having fed while he was out. My stomach churns and growls. My fangs descend despite everything and a slight silver film colors my eyes. I know I’ve changed, become more vampiric before him. God, I’m hungry. I want him---body, souls, and blood---but I can’t let him kill himself for me.

I’d never survive his loss either.

Carver pulls back, and his eyes bore into mine, an icy blue so pure I’m sure they can see through my souls. “Destiny drew me to you because I love you and because I’m strong enough to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“You’re brave and strong, but you’re still a fledgling, and you don’t have the strength to take on a fraction of the older vampires in the court, to navigate an alliance with Lavinia and the Daks. I have to be here.”

I sigh in his embrace. “But the torment.”

He grips me more tightly. “Ma belle, we’ll face this all together. The biggest torment on earth would be forcing myself away from you. Wherever you go, I go.”

“Then we both need to deal with whatever games Morana wants to play and get the effing hell out of Dodge as fast as we can.”

“What is this ‘Dodge?’” he asks, quirking his head at me.

Shaking my head, I giggle. “That’s the risk in dating a super old French dude. It’s an expression. It means leaving a shitty place.”

“You Americans and your Americanisms.” He smiles, then drops it quickly. “You are right, though. I never want to spend more time around her than I have to. It’s the best way to keep one’s head in court.”

“But there’s one you’re wrong about.”

“Is there?”

“That first night we met on the roof, you said that I was looking for a fuck. I mean, I was because I was so hyped up with the change and everything that came with it. When it was some guy in a bar, I was looking to fuck. With you…”

“The Lord of Pleasure,” he supplies, the bitterness clear in his voice.

My lips tease his, taste him, and then I trail kisses over the side of his jaw and the five o’clock shadow there. Looking up into gorgeous crystal eyes, I offer him my deepest truth. “That’s not who you are anymore, and that’s not all you ever were.”

“I assure you, my reputation as a whore even in my human youth was legendary. I was the best at a quick fuck.”

“But you were wrong about me…about us.”

Deep lines furrow on his forehead between his brows. “How so, chérie?”

“I wanted to make love to you in that moment, even on the roof. Whatever we do together is about us, and it’s about love. It always has been.” My body shakes and my vision swims.

Carver examines my eyes more closely, that hint of silver still in them. “You haven’t fed enough.”

“No. I’m starving.” I graze my fangs over his chin and move to the hollow of his throat by his collar bone. My most feral instincts are taking over now, and I can’t stop myself from laving at the delectable skin there. No blood pours through his veins anymore, no heartbeat pats out a desperate tattoo beneath his skin, but the blood there is still rich. It’s the sustenance I need. “Need you, Carver. I’ll always need you.”

“And I’ll protect you, give you everything you need. No matter what.”

“Don’t die for me.”

He chuckles, and his voice is warm again, like velvet for the ears. “I don’t intend to. If I do, I won’t be able to spend an eternity making love to you, ma belle, and that would be tragic.”

Carver steps back from me, and I mewl a little. It’s a funny sound to escape from my throat but when my vampire side works through me and takes control, I hiss too. It’s like I’ve become an entire effing animal kingdom. He yanks off his jacket, and then reaches for his buttons. At first, he’s slow and deliberate with his undressing, but I feel my eyes flash silver. Then, I yank up the slit in my skirt and give him an eyeful of the expanse of my thigh. Whatever control Carver has been trying to maintain shatters like a glass knocked to a tile floor, and he practically tears off his shirt.

Licking my lips, I eye the broad expanse of his chest. When I first met him, I knew he had a physique honed by methodical work, not by gym rat excess and meathead fanaticism. A voice in the back of my head reminds me that his lean musculature and tapered shoulders come from centuries of being an assassin, of hunting both human and inhuman prey. He’s killed before, and I assume to keep his cover for Morana that, for a little longer, he’ll have to keep killing. But now’s not the time for that. I push the worries about tomorrow, about the prophecy and the long, impossible shadow Morana casts aside.

Tonight, we need each other and my thirst for blood has the least to do with it.

“You’re beautiful, ma belle,” he purrs as one hand reaches out to grip my thigh.

I shudder in his grasp and already my clit is throbbing. We haven’t had time for each other lately and, ideally, I’d want everything to last. If Carver wants to take hours teasing me, then I’m usually inclined to let him. But not now. I need everything; the desire burns through my veins like a four-alarm fire.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” I promise.

Carver pulls me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. With my strength, I can support myself with just my thighs pressed tightly around him, but Carver doesn’t move his arms away. One hand is firmly planted on my ass, and the other runs over my breast. My nipple is pebbled under the thin fabric of the silk and I don’t regret going braless. Not at all. Of course, the cut of the dress with the deep V in the back would have prevented anything else, but now the extra access Carver has makes it that much more worth it as a choice.

My mouth is back on his, hungry and demanding. This time, our lips crash together and our tongues dance for dominance, a tangle of want and lust that can’t be controlled. My fangs are down and, in my haste, I nick his lips. Blood, hot and rich, flows onto my tongue. The heady sensation isn’t enough, not when it’s just a drop. Lapping at his cut lip, I work through my silver-sighted haze. When I first changed, Carver described it as gaining a second soul. I’m still not sure if that’s a metaphor or more metaphysical. Either way, it’s as good a way to explain what becoming a vampire is like, at least for me. When I feed, when the need surges through me, it’s like a wild animal surges to the surface, something uncivilized and ravenous.

My tongue laps at his chin, tickled and teased by the stubble there. But I’m far from done. Sucking and licking my way down the spicy skin of his neck, I finally find my way back to his pulse point. There’s no need for him to guide me anymore. I know how to feed, even if stopping before I overrun the balance is continuing to be a challenge. Rearing my head back, I make sure my fangs are fully descended. Then, I strike. It’s like a cobra digging its fangs into a mouse; I move with lightning speed. Instantly, I’m rewarded with the rich, coppery reward I’ve been craving.

Blood.

The liquid vitality flows into me even as rivulets of crimson also slide down the sides of my mouth. The utter ecstasy of the drink fills me with warmth from the inside out, and I’ve gone from feeling like a four-alarm fire in my veins to the roaring lava of an unleashed volcano. Everything is sizzling inside; my heart would be thudding if it still could. My clit does throb, whatever magic animates it sends that sensation swirling through my cunt.

That’ll come soon enough.

Fucking hell, I’ve been so hungry. In Morana’s court, I was too nervous to notice the wild hunger raging through me. Now, it’s like Carver doesn’t have enough blood to satiate me, as if I could drain him dry.

But I won’t.

As much wild abandon is surging through me, as strong as the silver haze is around me, I know there must be balance. I have to stop. Taking two more deep draughts, I let the rich nectar slide down my throat. It’ll be several days before I can feed from Carver as deeply again. It’s not enough---it’s never enough---but it’s satisfying for now.

Reluctantly, I force my fangs to retract. Sticking out my tongue, I lap at the wound. It’s slightly puckered, but by tomorrow it’ll hardly be noticeable. Just one of the many gifts and advantages of vampiric healing. Pulling away is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do because the cravings are still so strong. They reach deeply into my gut and make my core pulse with need.

But there are other things I want, and the last thing I could ever bear to do is drain too much and hurt Carver. He’s strong and ancient compared to me, but balance is tricky, and I need to keep him healthy. Especially if Harlow’s vision will come to pass soon. If he’s headed for torment, he needs to be at one hundred percent to fight it.

Hell, he needs to be at one hundred and ten percent.

His glacial eyes regard me. They’re half-lidded and not quite focused. I can’t blame him. Whenever he sucks on me, it’s orgasmic, as good as sex. Eventually, a deliberate intensity pours into his cerulean gaze and he grins back me, as content as a cat that’s lapped up a saucer of cream.

“Still hungry, ma belle?”

Laughing, I toss my long, golden hair over my shoulder. “Not for blood.” A small lie, but at least there’s some truth in it too. I need him. “I want you, crave you.”

Carver nods and reaches down. It takes a bit of shimmying, but with a clink his fancy trousers hit the floor beneath his feet. My dress has been rucked up to my waist, and the scrap of lace that had once been my panties lays ripped and discarded on the balcony’s tile below. The head of his cock is nudges against my soft folds, as warm and eager for me as I am for it. Adjusting the angle of our bodies, I line my pussy up with his dick, and he slides in expertly, the ridges of his shaft teasing every muscle of my inner channel. Carver gives me just hints of the pleasure to come, but I want more.

With him, a little is never enough.

Effing hell, with Carver extreme overdoses are never enough either.

He rocks his hips steadily, a slow in and out at first. It’s the best form of torture to be teased with just the slightest friction from his massive cock. My clit’s still pounding, and I dig my fingernails into his shoulders. Pressing my hips harder against his, I beg, my voice a throaty moan. “I need more, Carver.”

“What do you need, ma belle. I want to hear you say it.”

“Need your cock but need you too. Your souls, your blood…your everything.”

This time it’s his eyes that go silver. Any control Carver’s been clinging to is gone now, and he pounds into me with everything he has, gripping me hard to hold me against him. If I were mortal, I’d be crushed by the force. I’m not. Not anymore. I’m Kresova, and even if I’m young, I can withstand more than most people have ever imagined. I grind down on him, raising my hips with all the force I can muster, then slamming down with every bit of energy I have. My most sensitive bundle of nerves is throbbing now and the delicious heat and girth of him is filling me.

Just as surely as his blood had earlier.

His pace hits a crescendo---a speed and force no human man could ever hope to attempt—and I detonate around him. The lava in my veins bursts forth, and I’m swept away with the heat and passion of a heat so searing no mortal could survive it.

Throwing back my head, I let out a scream. It’s more feral than human, but, then again, so am I right now. Even though I don’t have to breathe anymore, old habits are hard to break. When I exerted myself as a human, I took in huge gulps of air. After a marathon sex session like that, I can’t help by taking in huge breaths again.

Will it always be like this? Will I gasp like that in a hundred years? Carver doesn’t breathe much except to talk. Maybe as I grow older, I’ll stop all the mannerisms, those little things that still make me feel human.

Sobering thought.

A scary thought.

Carver quirks his head at me. “Are you all right?” He kisses my face, watching me closely.

I nod and then gesture for him to set me down. He slides out of me and helps ease me to my feet. The hem of my skirt slides to my ankles, and I then place my hands on either side of his wide shoulders.

“Everything’s perfect.”

“Even with prophecies looming and Morana’s centennial party for the royal courts of all the races?”

I kiss him, letting my tongue linger over his. Then, I speak again. “When it’s with you, it’s always perfect.”