Chapter Eight
I MET Ode, my friend Brandon and his wife, Claudia, and my friend Liam and his husband, Cole, at Katie’s over on Iberville and had brunch just like every Sunday. The food was great, as were the bottomless drinks, and by the time we left, I’d had four Bloody Marys, which was two more than usual as I told Ode all about my latest interaction with Varic.
“You need to stop making yourself available for that man,” she cautioned. “Where’s your pride?”
Gone, apparently, where the prince was concerned.
“Just say no from now on.”
It was very good advice.
Ode had her normal three mimosas that morning, but since neither of us worked on Sunday, it was fine. Normally the six of us meandered through the Quarter or walked over to Jackson Square to the park to look at the artwork hanging on the fences, but this week Ode had a family thing, and everyone else had somewhere to be as well. Since they all ditched me, I strolled on my own through the streets.
I enjoyed the Quarter alone or in a group, but now and then the idea of having someone in my life tugged at my heart. Not that I did anything proactive about that, so I had no one to blame but myself. Still, between the last effects of the alcohol and the solitude, a bit of loneliness clung to me.
“Jason.”
I saw Hadrian down the sidewalk ahead of me, standing on the curb in a dark navy suit and black wingtips. He was the last person I needed to see at the moment, after having just recounted to Ode how seeing his boss turned me inside out. I turned around to walk the other way.
“Jason!”
I wasn’t surprised to see him right there when I turned around.
“I hope nobody saw you do your Flash impersonation.”
He squinted. “Pardon me?”
Superhero references were lost on him.
“You look very serious,” I commented, noting the purse of his lips, the clench of his jaw, and the lack of glint in his normally warm brown eyes. He had not run into me by accident; he’d been looking because he had business with me.
“What I am is annoyed,” he warned. “My prince has invited you to meet with him, and yet you stay away.”
Invited or insisted? I wasn’t sure the prince knew the difference, and I was betting Hadrian, as his rekkr, didn’t get the distinction either. “I went last night as I was asked.”
“And then you left, which was not what he wanted.”
“He has a lot to do and—”
“You need not explain his duties to me; I am well aware of what those include. What I am trying to explain now is what the prince requires, and that is your presence.”
“Yeah, I don’t—”
“It is unacceptable that you refrain from accepting his invitation,” he explained through almost gritted teeth, clearly ready to grab me and throw me into a car. “Therefore I must insist that you accompany me now so that I may deliver you safely unto him.”
My eyebrows shot up as I looked at him because, holy shitballs, who talked like that? He must really be steamed to lapse that far back in time in his speech patterns. I had to figure out what century he was from.
He scowled.
“Unto him?” I repeated sarcastically. “Really?”
He exhaled sharply. “I was born during the reign of Caesar Augustus, so at times my vocabulary slides between time periods. For that I apologize.”
He was so not. “That was so not an apology!” I snorted a laugh. “Dude!”
“As though one needs diction lessons from the Americas,” he replied snidely.
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. “Well, I’m really not coming now. You insulted my whole continent, you dick.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. I was clearly dancing a tango on his last nerve. “Get into the car before I put you in the car.”
It was fun poking the bear; I got why Tiago liked it. “Born when Rome was still in full swing. That’s kind of awesome.”
“I do not care to speak of—”
“I bet cell phones were tough to get your head around, huh?”
Any serene expression on his face was long gone. I was driving him nuts.
“Shit, I’m sorry, but—”
“Jason.” Hadrian crowded me, his voice guttural but even. “I want to give you a choice, but my prince—he entrusts me above all others with keeping him safe. Do you understand?”
“I do, but—”
“And right now he is climbing the walls, and by tonight, I fear he will cease to listen, which will render me unable to perform that which he charged me to do, and if I am no longer able to serve him, then—”
“Fine,” I conceded, needing to put Hadrian out of his misery. I’d been a soldier too. I understood about sworn duty. “I’ll go for you, all right?”
He put his hand over his heart, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, and pledged, “I swear I will let no harm come to you, and if your desire is to depart after you have spoken with the prince, I will not allow any other to curtail you.”
“Even the prince?”
He changed instantly. Coldness washed over me as his eyes turned flat. I was second-guessing a man he loved, on the razor’s edge of an insult that couldn’t be taken back. I was pushing my luck, and I would have felt exactly the same if anyone ever had the balls to disrespect my old CO. It was a shitty thing to do, and if I wasn’t completely sober moments before, I certainly was now. I needed to be far more careful with my words.
When he took a breath, I rushed out an apology. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that he would—”
“Were you a vampyr, I would take your head, but I know you do not understand what you just implied.”
“I really am sorry,” I entreated. “It won’t ever happen again.”
“Hear me now,” Hadrian began, his tone measured. “The prince would keep no one against their will. It is not in him to do so. He would never deny anyone their liberty.”
I nodded, feeling like absolute crap for overstepping. I would have felt better if he hit me, but I was scared he might actually kill me.
“Do you believe what I say?”
“I do,” I affirmed, and even if it was a lie—which it wasn’t—I would have said it anyway because I wanted things back to normal between us.
“Thus?”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The relief that seemed to flood him, from the drop of his shoulders to the quick release of breath, made me smile. It was like I’d made his whole day, and he smiled and gestured to the car parked halfway down the street. “I will never forget this.”
I doubted I would either. Seeing the prince had been nothing if not memorable.
I STAYED silent on the short drive to the very edge of the Garden District and Uptown. Seeing the cars lining the 2700 block of St. Charles Avenue didn’t surprise me. All the vampyrs in the city would, of course, want to see the prince before he left.
Hadrian explained on our elevator ride up that the two-story penthouse had a wrap-around terrace on the first floor and a large private patio off the master bedroom on the second, along with other details of the building.
“I’m sure it’s great,” I murmured, my buzz wearing off in the face of seeing the prince again. I felt itchy, didn’t want to be there. The idea that I’d made a mistake was pressing in on me.
The elevator opened directly into the living room, which had far too many people crowded in it. According to Hadrian, the penthouse was about nine thousand square feet smaller than Benny Diallo’s sumptuous mansion, so Hadrian and I and two more of his guys had to gently push and say “excuse me” every few seconds as we made our way out to the terrace. I staked out a place on the rail, and Hadrian asked me what I wanted to drink.
“Just a bottle of water, if you have it.”
“Certainly,” he obliged, smiling before he left me.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze on my face. People thought it was always warm in New Orleans, but in the fall, the nights got chilly, tumbling into the low fifties. That temperature didn’t used to be sweater weather for me, but I had acclimated fast. Today, as it had rained earlier and stayed overcast, was on the cold side if you were a human. It was funny, but just thinking about something as inane as the weather calmed me with every passing second. It would be fine. I could be cordial for a few minutes and then excuse myself. I worked in retail, for crissakes. If I could deal with the public, I could deal with anything.
“Jason?”
Cooke stood a few feet away, looking a little pale and hesitant.
Crap. I should have known he’d be upset, the two sides of him warring because he could still remember what being scared and hunted was like. He couldn’t very well stand up for me when the truce between the vampyr classes was still so new.
“It’s fine, we’re fine,” I contended, needing to clear the air between us even though I still felt betrayed by him siding with Benny instead of me. “I get it. You’re a vampyr first and foremost, no two ways about it.”
He moved quickly, beside me in seconds, his hand on my shoulder. “I’m your friend, and I should have—I’ve just never been put in—”
“Really,” I tried to mollify, “it’s okay. I forgive you already.”
He looked stressed and worried, and I had to relieve that because, at the end of the day, we were friends.
“Just do me a favor, all right?” I said, needing to put us both back on solid ground.
“Yes, whatever, just tell—”
“Don’t stop coming by the store. Don’t stop playing out front. You don’t need to plan on disappearing because that won’t help anything.”
He moved his hand from my shoulder and slid it down my back as he leaned on me, and even though I didn’t want to be that close to him, still a bit frayed around the edges, I let him be.
“Move.”
We both straightened from our lean on the railing to face Hadrian, standing there all scary and glowering at Cooke.
“You should not—” He stopped talking to Cooke and turned his attention to me. “The prince has requested to see you upstairs on the balcony, if that would be agreeable to you.”
“Sure,” I said, ready to follow him.
He choked out a breath. “Would you take your jacket off for me, please?”
“What? Why?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
For heaven’s sake. “Uh, maybe you can’t feel it since you’re a vampyr and all of you guys are always freezing,” I explained, a bit annoyed with everyone trying to give me orders. “But it’s a little cold out here, and if I’m going upstairs and then right back outside, I kinda need this.”
He sighed deeply. “Yes, I am certain you do, but unfortunately, as your jacket now smells like Mr. Slater, and since the prince gave specific orders that no one but the rajan, myself, or my men be allowed to touch you, it would not bode well for Mr. Slater were my prince to catch his scent on any of your clothing.”
That was insane. I didn’t belong to him, I wasn’t his to put demands on, and he certainly wasn’t allowed a say in who could or couldn’t touch me. “But Cooke didn’t know that the—”
“Which is a fair and logical argument that would perhaps allow him to retain his head,” Hadrian said flatly. “Or perhaps not. That would depend greatly on the mood of my prince.”
“And you would do, what, just come down here and cut off my buddy’s head?”
At this point Cooke gagged behind me.
Hadrian glared at me. “You are missing again that I am the sword of the prince, his rekkr. Whatever his command, I would see that carried out.”
“That’s nuts. Do you get that that’s nuts?”
He lifted one eyebrow in question.
“Not the following orders part, of course I get that, but the chopping off Cooke’s head because he touched my jacket part.”
“It is really the most simple of decrees.”
“But me and Cooke have been friends for—”
“Perhaps we might stop having a discussion about this, and you could be so kind as to give me your jacket,” Hadrian said, his tone strained, feigning calm—ready, I was sure, to murder me and Cooke right there, even though he’d plastered on a fake smile.
I glanced over my shoulder at Cooke. His eyes were wide, and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He was scared, and I would be too. Hadrian did not come off all patient and soothing; he came off like a badass who could rip out your spine with his bare hands. Pissing him off seemed more than a bit counterproductive. “Sure,” I agreed. I turned back to Hadrian, slipped my leather racing jacket off, and handed it to him. “We all good now?”
“Your sarcasm is not lost on me,” Hadrian said before draping my jacket over his arm and then pivoting to lead.
I pointed at Cooke. “You can hug me after he goes home.”
“And if you leave with him?” Cooke asked.
“That isn’t gonna happen, no worries.”
“He’s already this possessive, Jase. I think maybe you’re in trouble here.”
“I don’t even know him. You’re—”
“Jason,” Hadrian said sharply.
I gave Cooke a quick wave and followed Hadrian, who cleared the way through the crowd in the living room to the stairs where people stood waiting, and then up to the second floor. The main room featured a chandelier, just like downstairs, the same high ceilings, and a balcony that looked out over the first floor. It was beautiful but still crowded.
Hadrian led me through an amazing door—not a sliding glass one at all, but instead a giant pivoting window—and out onto the patio empty except for a grouping of furniture sheltered by several large plants that blocked the sightlines from neighboring buildings and a clear view otherwise. A second door at the far end of the patio led back into the house. As predicted, I was cold.
“I will bring you a blanket.”
“It’s fine. I won’t be here that long,” I said, even as a slight tremble ran through me as my body tried to acclimate to the temperature. Downstairs, the temperature in the condo had to be set on frostbite. Upstairs, the air had to be set on arctic.
“Jason,” Hadrian began. “Perhaps you should wait inside—”
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered while I walked to the railing. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I didn’t check to see if he left, just looked out at the buildings, waiting for whatever would happen next. I didn’t expect something warm to drape over my back. It was an oversized cardigan, and after I turned, sliding my arms into the sleeves before wrapping it around me, all I saw was green.
Again, I had no idea eyes came in that shade of deep, dark forest green framed by long, thick raven-wing lashes.
“Thank you for coming.”
I didn’t say Hadrian hadn’t give me much of a choice, because standing there with him, I could feel how much my body enjoyed his proximity, even if my head was confused over my excitement. “Sure,” I said, glancing away at the skyline for a moment to get myself in check. I needed to calm down.
“Jason.”
I looked back at him, and he gave me a slight smile. “I don’t—there are not many things in my closet that will fit you, but blessedly I found at least one.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, and it sank in that even though he was only an inch or so taller, we were built very differently.
I had always been thick and bulky, covered in hard, hewn muscle. Varic’s musculature looked like the kind built in the gym. I bet he had six-pack abs under his clothes, because he was all coiled power, more toned and sculpted, sleek and elegant. He was classically built, an aristocrat, and so everything fit him like it did the models in magazines.
With his physique, the mane of glossy black hair, the alluring green eyes, and his carved features, I’d never seen a more breathtaking man.
“I’ll give it back before I go,” I promised, forcing a smile.
“I’m sorry?”
“The sweater,” I reminded him.
“No, that’s… fine,” he whispered, crossing his arms and then quickly uncrossing them before dragging a hand through his hair. It was almost like he was nervous… but why would he be?
I took a breath. “So did you figure out who tried to attack you the other night?”
“No, not—not yet,” he answered, coming closer to the railing. “But I have a working theory.”
“We should probably move, huh?”
“Pardon?”
“Out of the line of fire,” I explained, walking over to the furniture behind the plants where the skyline blocked out. He stayed right there beside me, and when I sat, he took the chaise in front of me, sitting at the very end, only a couple feet separating us. “I just don’t think, with someone out to get you, that you should make yourself an easy target. A sniper could take you out fast from over there.”
He nodded. “I appreciate the concern, but at my age, the only way to kill me is beheading. Even fire won’t work anymore.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued and illogically excited. How often did someone tell you they were basically bulletproof?
“Yes,” he said slowly, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure why I was pleased.
“What about being blown up?”
“No.”
“Drowning?”
He shook his head.
“No?” I waited for him to nod. “Wow. So deep-sea diving, you can just go without a SCUBA tank?”
“I wouldn’t because it would be painful. But were I thrown in the ocean with weights attached, I wouldn’t drown.”
“Holy crap, that’s awesome. You’re like Wolverine.”
“Not quite, but—”
“What if you got pushed off something high?”
“No. I’d land on my feet.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
“What if someone knocked you out and then cut out your heart?”
His eyes widened comically, and I had to chuckle. “These are getting more elaborate as the questions progress.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”
“No, no, they’re reasonable inquiries. Knocking me out would present a problem in and of itself, and if I ever were unconscious, the second I was cut, I would wake.”
I nodded. “Good to know.”
“And as I said, even a shot to the head would not prove fatal.”
“You’re speaking from experience,” I said gravely, the question-and-answer session coming to an abrupt halt as I was struck by the thought of him being hurt. Already, that fast, the thought of a world without him was painful.
“I am.”
“Someone shot you in the head?”
“With a high-powered rifle, yes.”
I was stunned. “What happened?”
“Well, it hurt, of course,” he teased, giving me a shy smile, “but the bullet stopped before it entered my brain and then had only to be removed.”
“So that fast, it got lodged in your skull?”
“Yes.”
“That’s amazing.”
He kept his gaze steady on mine.
“You know,” I said awkwardly, feeling the need to fill the silence, “I’m sure there are scientists out there who would love to study your kind to see how your genetics work.”
“I would agree. I’m sure there are.”
“We have to make sure they never get their hands on any of you.”
“Why do you say that?”
I shook my head. “That’s a zombie outbreak movie just waiting to happen.”
He laughed, and the sound—deep, husky, sincere—plucked a chord of painful yearning in my chest. I liked being the guy who made him laugh.
“You know that whole thing with the bullet not going in deep would have been really handy during my last tour,” I reasoned, grinning. “I still have scars from where different medics had to dig out bullets and shrapnel.”
“That reminds me. I understand you were hurt the other night, saving me.”
“Well, apparently you didn’t need saving, did you?”
“No, but my people did, and in saving them, you saved me as well.”
“It’s not a big deal, just a graze. And my friend Ode, her mom’s a nurse, so she fixed me right up.”
He remained quiet, staring at me.
“And I got fed too,” I added, rambling.
“Yes. Being fed is… good,” he agreed, his voice gravelly and low. “But tell me, are you hungry now?”
“No, I just had brunch not too long ago.”
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“Well, Hadrian was supposed to bring me some water, but I think he forgot when he saw me talking to my buddy Cooke.”
“Mr. Slater, yes, I saw him as well,” he said, his voice suddenly rough, thick with something I couldn’t place.
“We have to….” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say about my friend. “…sort of redefine our relationship, I guess. I think I got spoiled meeting Tiago and Hadrian first.”
“Spoiled? How so?”
“Well, the two of them do whatever they want, and the only person they have to report to is you,” I explained, looking into all that green, only to turn away, not wanting to be pulled in again. I needed to stand up, but I was worried it’d be rude. “But why do I care?”
“Why do you care about what?”
I had to get out of there. What the hell was the point of hanging around talking to the vampyr prince, getting to know him, maybe even ending up liking him? It was an exercise in futility, and there were ridiculous rules I already knew I couldn’t abide, so why did I care if he thought I was rude? I’d be walking out of his life now or later, same outcome on the horizon. It was frustrating just thinking about it, so I stood and walked toward the door but stopped abruptly, remembering his sweater. When I turned around to take it off and give it to him, he was right there.
“Man, that vampyr speed is really not fair.”
“You didn’t finish your thought,” he said, lifting his hand toward my face, but he let it slowly drop back to his side.
I took a breath, wanting to explain at least this to him because he was the one who could make changes. “Cooke wanted to help me the other night, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t challenge Benny’s authority.”
“And how is that different from Tiago and Hadrian?” He took a deep breath, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if he was concentrating on keeping himself still. “They too could not challenge my word.”
“But they would if they felt you were being unfair.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because of who they are,” I explained. “They’re strong, and they think for themselves, and if I was in trouble, they would defy you if they needed to.”
“They would not. They are both unquestionably and unwaveringly loyal.”
“Yeah, but if you went crazy and ended up hurting others… they would stop you.”
“They would act to protect me from myself, yes.”
“And you’d expect it of them because they’re not just your minions, but men you respect.”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Because if one rules by fear, that wears off. If you rule by intimidation or even love, all that can change. Mutual respect is the only path to being a kind and just leader.”
“There, see?” I sighed, gesturing at him. “That’s what I meant when I said I was spoiled. Cooke can’t be who he should because the guy in charge doesn’t believe in him or respect him. How’s he ever supposed to become the best version of himself that way?”
“Perhaps I need to speak to both Niko Gann and Benny Diallo about how they treat their people and what they can do better.”
I nodded. “I think that would be great, though it’s probably happening all over and not just here.”
“I would agree.”
“This could help a lot of your vampyrs.”
“Yes, good,” he said gruffly, touching the hem of the cardigan and then the zipper pull, as I hadn’t pulled it off yet. “Now that we’ve figured that out, let’s talk about you.”
I realized that while he did mean it—he did want to help and make things better—at the moment, looking at the way he had eased closer but wasn’t crowding me, he was completely distracted by me. “Could I ask you something?”
He lifted his gaze from his hands and met mine. “Anything.”
I smiled big. “Could you tell me where vampyrs come from?”
His grin could lure any man to his bed, as salacious and seductive as it was. His eyes glinted, his lip curled at the corner, and he lifted one brow in invitation. “Well, Jason, when two people love each other—”
“Stop,” I said, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. “Just tell me, please. No one in my circle has any clue.”
“All right,” he said, voice like honey, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, looking very relaxed. “You want to hear about the first vampyrs.”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, by any chance do you know what a berserker is?”
I had to think. “Maybe? They were Vikings, right, that went nuts in battle and killed everybody?”
“They were Norse, yes, but they go back centuries before the Vikings, and there were different cults for different animals, like wolves or bears or boars, anything that would have been around back then that hunters would kill and gatherers had to be protected from.”
“Tiago called Hadrian a wolf once, and when I first mentioned Hadrian to Cooke, he thought he was a werewolf or something.”
“That’s because the strongest of the hunters became like a pack themselves, having learned how to work together like the wolves.”
“That makes sense,” I agreed. I could imagine Bronze-Age humans looking at apex predators and thinking the hunting style made a lot of sense. “And now the dreki are called the wolves of the house of Maedoc, right?”
“Yes,” he sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Who told you that?”
“Tiago. He’s had to endure a lot of questions, and he’s been mostly patient about answering them.”
“Tiago has?” He seemed surprised.
“Yeah. I think I bring out the best in him.”
“I suspect in everyone.”
So nice of him to say that. “So the dreki are called wolves because back in the day, they hunted well together?”
“Yes, but again, that’s only something they’re called. It’s a holdover from an early belief in hunting magic.”
“Hunting magic?”
“In prehistoric times, if you wanted to be as successful a hunter as the wolves, then you prayed to that animal, and the belief was that you would become like them during a hunt.”
“I think I saw a show about this on the Discovery Channel.”
He chuckled. “No doubt.”
“Well, you have these people,” he said, levering off the door and moving toward me again, “these hunters hunting, providing for their families, but there were always wars, always hunger, and pretty soon, they can’t hunt for food anymore. Something has to give.”
“And that’s when they started drinking blood?” I asked as he reached me.
He smiled before stepping in close, his breath warm on my cheek. “This is evolution, right? You can’t simply acquire a trait because you need it. Things don’t work that way.”
I knew that. “Right. Then what happened?”
“I’m getting there,” he teased, leaning in, which made my breath catch inadvertently.
Jesus.
I was trying really hard not to get comfortable with him, but it was difficult. He was a very easy man to talk to, and his full attention made my heart beat faster, no matter what had happened the other night.
“When the hunters brought back less and less game and everyone had to subsist on smaller and smaller amounts of food, over time, the blood of the animal became just as important as anything else.”
“If we’re talking evolution, then eventually someone was born with a mutation that allowed them to metabolize the blood as everything they needed.”
“Exactly. We don’t know how long it took to be passed down. This is all thousands of years ago. But what we do know is that the blood-drinkers had an advantage in that environment, and it was passed down generationally. Then, of course, there was a horrific winter or a famine or a plague—again, we have no idea—but because of that disaster, those who couldn’t just drink blood died. And what started out as a mutation became the rule.”
“What about the berserkers?”
“Well, by the time of the Vikings, there were the stories about the berserkers who chewed on their shields with their long teeth,” he said, arching a rakish brow for me in case I missed the teeth part, “and they fought without any armor. And it’s also recorded that they tasted blood, but of course we know that ‘tasting’ was actually ‘drinking.’ And when they fought, they used their teeth as much as their swords.”
“So vampyrs, then.”
“Yes.”
“And what the historians are calling a frenzy is actually vampyrs killing each other and humans, drinking blood in the process.”
“Far too much blood, yes. It wasn’t an induced trance, or drugs or alcohol, or anything else that people have assumed down through the centuries that caused the savagery in battle—but purely bloodlust.”
“Too much of it spilled in one place.”
“Yes.”
“And is that when the laws were enacted?”
“Yes, very good,” he praised, returning his hands to the hem of the sweater, then the T-shirt underneath. It was gentle, a small, subtle movement, the slightest tug, but I felt every twitch of his fingers.
I took a breath, so grateful to finally learn the whole story, knowing he was the only one who could have filled in the blanks for me. Listening to him, I could see the history in my mind, having always preferred to be told a good story than anything else. “Thank you so much for explaining. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine. “It’s good to be asked.”
“The hiding in plain sight that you all do is amazing to me.”
He gave the slightest tip of his head. “More people than you would guess know all about vampyrs.”
“I was in the military. I know how secrets work.”
“I’m sure you do,” he agreed as he removed his fingers from the cardigan to slip them over mine, tentatively, as if seeing what I would allow. “Jason—”
Sidestepping, I moved into the doorway, ready to go. As interested as I was, as ready to be whatever he wanted as long as I could get into his bed, I was still worried I would get too attached, which would do nothing good for me. Getting out of there was the safest move. “I have a lot of other questions, but I know you have a lot of people to see, so maybe I can come back another—”
“No, don’t go,” he coaxed and commanded at the same time, his tone like a fist in a velvet glove. “Stay.”
The silky tone, his eyes half-open, a trace of smile on those full lips…. He knew how seductive he was, how tempting, how utterly decadent and beautiful. I desperately wanted to give in, but I had to be smart. I had to use my head, not my heart.
“I should let you—”
“You were embarrassed by the others that night,” he rushed out, “because you thought I was not as bespelled as you were.”
I met his gaze, all that rich, beckoning emerald, and faced the humiliation that had been eating away at my heart for the past couple of days. “Think an awful lot of yourself, huh?”
“Yes,” he said implacably, no mistake there, but I would have known he was lying if he said anything else. Varic breathed out self-confidence and radiated a pulse of magnetism that made it impossible to take your eyes off him. From the way he walked and carried himself, the tilt of his head, and his piercing stare… you knew he was in absolute control of his many charms. He was utterly lethal in his beauty and presence. “But make no mistake; I was just as fractured as you were when we were interrupted because I too was utterly bewitched.”
I tried to tell if he was lying, tried to read him, but I couldn’t. All I saw when I looked at him was something I wanted, something I craved. Because yes, I was eaten up with lust but also something more, something forbidden and tempting at the same time.
He moved slowly, fluidly, hand on my wrist, turning it to stroke his thumb over the underside gently, soothing me, the urge to flee draining from my heart, ebbing, the surrender of a vicious wave retreating from a battered shore, leaving me calm as its intensity drained away.
After a moment he released me and stepped in closer. He slid his hands under the sweater to my hips, and he curled his fingers into the belt loops of my jeans.
“Forgive me for allowing that disruption,” he whispered hoarsely in my ear. “Those men meant nothing, mean nothing, and you will never lay eyes on them again, even the one who disobeyed me, not ever.”
“But you fucked them, all of them,” I said because it hurt—like he’d cheated on me, which was ludicrous and so unlike me because I’d never been controlling or jealous, but still—it felt like trying to choke down a rotting piece of meat. I couldn’t swallow it, couldn’t let this go. “Earlier that day you did. You screwed all of them.”
“I did,” he admitted. He pressed a kiss to first my ear and then right below before moving lower to where my neck and shoulder joined. “But I will never take another again, I swear on your life, which is the most precious of my possessions.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I advised weakly as he kissed along my jaw. But even as I said the words, they didn’t ring true because belonging to him sounded heavenly.
“Oh, you most certainly do,” he said, his voice thick and growly when he spoke. “You’re so very mine.”
The scent of his skin, the sound of his voice, the touch of his lips, and the clutch of his hands were utterly devastating. I was drowning in my own desire for him.
“Invite me in,” he demanded, but it was wrapped in his sultry, silvery voice, all heat and seduction and hunger. “Now.”
I shoved him off because I still could and had to. I didn’t give myself away, never had, and it was vital he knew that before things combusted between us. The shocked look on his face was priceless. I guessed not many, if any, guys stopped him once he got started.
“This’ll probably sound stupid to you, but anything I allow has to mean something,” I said, meeting his gaze and holding it. “So if this is just—”
“I can barely breathe,” he whispered, inhaling fast, swallowing hard, almost as if he were about to be sick. “My hands are shaking, and I can’t make it stop. Look at them.”
I took them in mine, feeling how cold they were, his skin almost icy. “You make me nervous too.”
“Oh no, I’m not nervous,” he clarified, easing from my grasp, only to step forward, into me, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he slipped his hand around my neck. “I’m just afraid of hurting you if you try to leave me again.”
The dark confession was slightly twisted and a bit scary, yet it dragged a sound up from my chest that was all yearning and desperation.
“You need me. You want me, I can feel it,” he growled, sliding his hands up under my T-shirt to my skin. “That wasn’t a fluke the other night, and you weren’t the only one out of their depth. Now give… in.”
I couldn’t say no to him. I didn’t want to, didn’t feel like I should. My gut said yes, jump, try, chase down what you need, don’t let it go. It was like watching a fiery sunset drowning in a deep, velvety night sky. I just wanted to give up and give in. And since I couldn’t imagine saying anything else, I voiced the only answer I could. “Please.”
“You’re mine,” he husked, and only then did I realize where his mouth was, his teeth pressed to my throat for a moment before the bite.
Logically I knew what was going to happen, but I still tensed at the first puncture. Not that I was scared, it wasn’t that, but I’d never been bitten before, and then right on the heels of that new sensation came pain, overwhelming, searing. I fought for my balance when my knees went weak, and I became light-headed enough that I was afraid I would pass out. I thought about telling him to stop, because I needed to know if this was how it was supposed to feel, if the pain ever abated, or if this was how it always was. Everything cycled through my mind, and I started to worry I’d hyperventilate… until he started to drink.
Holy… God.
Why would any human willingly feed a vampyr? I had made plans to go to some of the clubs around town just to ask, but in the end thought better of it because, really, it was none of my business. Those people were clearly masochists who were into pain, and it wasn’t my place to judge.
But now I knew better. Now I knew why.
It felt like sex.
Like the good kind of sex everybody wanted, the kind where you could feel your body melding with the other person, where you felt like one thing, one soul, one open beating heart.
I closed my eyes, and tears ran from under my lashes, down my cheeks. My gasp, my breathing filled my ears. The pull of his bite, the suction, made me press against him, my back bowing as I fisted my hands in his shirt.
It was exquisite. Feeding a vampyr had to be the greatest high in the world. No drug could be as good as this, nothing could compare to the rightness of having him take my blood to sustain him. I could nourish him; I could be everything to him. It was almost too much to bear, and I shuddered in his arms as he clutched me tight, one hand cupping the back of my head, holding me still, the other on the small of my back, pressing me against him.
When he slid his fangs free and licked over the bite, I realized I was painfully hard, my clothes far too tight, my skin hot.
“Tell me yes,” he demanded, loosening my belt before opening the top button and lowering my zipper. “Because I must have the words.”
“And if I say no?” I asked, opening my eyes to slits, needing to know about his control, that he’d never lose himself, that he had complete mastery of his desire at all times. It was imperative because he was stronger than me and could make me do as he pleased without my permission. But even as the thought came into my head, I discarded it because watching him go to his knees in front of me was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
“Then it’s no,” he said thickly as he jerked down my jeans and underwear with one hand and wrapped the other around my cock when it bounced free.
Just seeing his fingers on my skin almost made me come, and when he licked over the head, I cried out his name.
“Declare yourself to me!” he snarled, his eyes going black, the emerald bleeding to onyx in a heartbeat that was more than blown pupils.
I was past thinking, past speaking; all I wanted, needed, craved, desired, was him all over me. “I don’t—”
“You’re mine! Swear it now.”
There was nothing else to do; no other choice even made sense. He was the only thing that mattered.
“Jason!” he rasped, pleading with me, the ache in his voice as rich as a peat whiskey.
“Yours,” I whispered, but he heard it nonetheless.
He swallowed me to the back of his throat in one seamless movement, and I thought I would die right there. Then he eased back and did it again.
“Varic,” I chanted, one hand in all that gorgeous silky black hair, the other braced flat on the glass door behind me as he sucked and laved, taking all of me until I was wet and dripping. “I can’t…. It’s too much,” I begged, nothing in the world better than him taking control, his dominance as big a turn-on as his hot mouth.
When he dragged his fangs along the top of my shaft, to the edge of pain but not over, his tongue flat along the underside, then slid his fingers through saliva to grip my balls, I lost it. The orgasm boiled through me, convulsing, twisting before the burst of euphoria that came with sweet release.
He swallowed it all, drank me down, and when I couldn’t bear it a second longer, oversensitized physically and visually, I tugged on his shoulder.
My cock slipped from between his pillowy lips, and he stood, rising until he was looking down from those couple of inches he had on me.
I had to say something, tell him he was already the most ravenous lover I’d ever had, that I was in his hands, his to do with as he pleased, ready for whatever came next, but he bent and kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue. He mauled my mouth, the kiss grinding and deep, claiming and hungry. I couldn’t get enough of him. I wanted more.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tight as he palmed my still thickened cock. Even the tender contact sent an arc of electricity through me.
With his other hand, he cupped the back of my head before he yanked hard, broke the kiss, and exposed my throat.
“I have your blood and cum both on my tongue, Jason Thorpe.”
Yes, he did, and his words, nearly snarled, made me shudder in his hands. “What else may I have?”
I wasn’t sure there was a limit, and that was terrifying. I could easily see how people died accidentally while feeding a vampyr. The high was something to be chased, coveted, and combined with the ego stroking of being another’s whole world in that moment—you were their nourishment, their lifeblood—all of it swirled together into a soaring, blinding rush.
Always I’d been strong enough not to succumb to addictions, especially when I was still active military. The pills some guys took to stay awake or go to sleep, the drinking they did to forget—none of that was me.
But this, with Varic… this was something else entirely, and I saw the spiral it might become and didn’t care.
“Jason. Tell me what I may have of you.” His voice sounded like poured honey and drew words from my throat.
“All of me,” I got out before I took control and kissed him. I tasted and explored, catching on his fangs, rubbing my tongue over his before I deepened the kiss and melted against him.
He clutched me so tight I could barely breathe, and I gasped as he went to his knees again. My jeans were still pooled around my ankles, and he eased off my right shoe, a white Converse, and slipped my foot free before lifting my leg over his left shoulder. I watched him through narrowed eyes as he licked over my length before nuzzling my thigh. When he bit me, my cock came to immediate attention, thickening fast as he gorged on my blood.
I could feel myself becoming something new in that very moment. I was changing and staying the same, instantaneously, inexorably. I wouldn’t be able to walk away from him after this. The connection was powerful, a living and breathing thing between us, a tether as vital as one forged over years. It went beyond me; he was holding on to me as hard as I held on to him, and for once, I wasn’t guessing or hoping. I knew.
I knew it like I knew myself, like my own skin, my own face.
It was the blood.
My blood was inside of him, and I could feel his joy as he ingested what made me me.
“Varic,” I moaned hoarsely as he licked over the bite and then the head of my cock.
It would be an endless cycle of pleasure, and I was ready.
He rose and slid the zippered cardigan from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He manhandled me out of the other leg of my jeans and pushed me through the second door into the bedroom, where I stumbled forward and toppled over onto the king-size bed.
He fell on me, pinning me under him, his groin pressed to my bare ass. It felt illicit, him fully clothed, me half-naked, and I felt like spoils of war.
“I’m going to take you now because it’s my pleasure to have my consort however and whenever I choose,” he said, dragging my T-shirt over my head so he could smooth his hand over my bared back. “Do you understand?”
I did, and I wanted to tell him that whatever he wanted, I wanted, that he didn’t have to ask my permission. I’d given it once. I was already his. “I can’t just—”
“You can. You will,” he said, yanking the T-shirt from around my wrists and tossing it away. I was naked now, and when I looked over my shoulder, his smile was decidedly carnal. “Now get on your hands and knees.”
I did it, moving bonelessly because his voice tripped a tumbler in my chest. It was so strange, as if I’d been in limbo, waiting, everything happening on the outside and nothing on the inside until he woke me up.
I was kindling and he the match. We got close and ignited.
“It’s too—fast,” I gasped, trying to make sense of who I was… until his hands spread my cheeks and his tongue was in my ass.
I couldn’t… think.
He was voracious. No one had ever wanted all of me before, never wanted to taste me inside and out.
“Varic,” I rasped, my breathing ragged as he licked and nibbled. He stopped to blow on my saliva-covered hole, the chill on my skin eliciting a needy moan.
“Imagine my dilemma, Jason,” he began, his voice a velvet rumble as he rose from the bed, only to return in seconds. “I find a strong, virile, beautiful man who I see and want instantly, the craving like nothing that’s ever happened to me before, only to find out that he’s human.”
“And you hate humans.”
“I don’t hate them,” he soothed. The snap of a lid told me he’d retrieved a tube of lubricant. “I have no feeling for them one way or another because I purposely stay clear. Your kind doesn’t live long enough to interest me.”
I would have said something in defense of my humanity, but he chose that moment to slide two lube-coated fingers into my ass, and my brain shut off.
“But you, above all others, do more than interest me,” he confessed. He added a third finger, screwed them inside, and muscles already softened from the rimming, relaxed even more as he stroked down my spine with his free hand. “I’m enthralled, and since that’s never happened before, I have no recourse but to take you until my heart tells me that you’ve surrendered your soul up to me.”
It was the best plan I’d ever heard. “Good. Make me surrender.”
He bit me then on my hip, but there was no pain, just bliss and a feeling of finding what had been missing, like I was becoming whole.
“Did that hurt?” he asked, releasing his hold.
“No,” I managed to get out.
“Would you care if it did?”
“No.”
When he bit me again, on the other, it wasn’t discomfort that made me gasp, but the drops of blood hitting the down comforter, the wine-colored splatters a stark contrast to the pristine ivory.
He moved to my side, over my ribs, marking me, biting but not drinking, not sucking at them, instead letting them seep blood he licked from his fingers.
It should have been sick, gross, or disgusting, but it was anything but.
“You know it’s against the law for me to drink from a human, and I’m the prince, I’m the champion of those laws, but… human or not, forbidden or not, for the first time in the long history of my life, desire takes precedence over all else. And do you know why?”
I hoped I knew, because already I wanted more from him. Another time just like this, and another and another. I needed to be the one and only person in his bed, and the reason was simple.
I wanted to be his mate.
“Jason?” he said as he bit into my shoulder, and I jolted under him. It was so good, feeling him drink, and I knew all the blood should have scared me, but instead my concentration centered on pushing back onto him, wanting to fuck myself on his fingers.
When he withdrew them, only then did I cry out.
“I’ve broken a sacred law to have you, but my paramount concern is not that,” he ground out as he pressed against my entrance, notching there as he plastered his chest to my back. “The duration of your lifetime cannot possibly quench my thirst for you, my mate… my consort.”
The words, his words, his actions, the heated thundering want between us was overpowering, and I wasn’t sure how to sate my mind, body, and soul all at once until he bit into the side of my neck and shoved himself in to the hilt at the exact same moment.
“Varic!” I howled. He stayed still, drinking from me but letting my body get used to the long, hard, thick length of him buried in my ass.
He slipped his left hand under me to my belly, sliding lower, mapping skin, and then reached my cock. He curled his fingers around me, and he squeezed and tugged, working my shaft until I was leaking on his fingers.
When he slipped his fangs free and laved the bite, I begged. “Please, Varic, move. Just move.”
“Tell me how you like it,” he asked as he slowly withdrew, only to press back inside, pushing deeper, filling me up as my muscles clenched around him. “Shall I be gentle or not?”
“Not,” I whined, the word crawling out of my throat before I could curtail the aching sound. “Do it hard. I wanna feel you tomorrow.”
“I’ll still be inside you tomorrow,” he promised and pulled out slowly, retreating, letting me feel the slide before driving in, harder, faster, and then again and again, his body beginning an ancient rhythm, one carried in genetic memory, timeless, endless, as I begged him for more.
“This is why they keep attacking you,” he snarled, his voice feral, the sultry purr gone, replaced by something far more primal. “They knew everything would change once I had you.”
I couldn’t process the words. Me? They attacked me? Yes, at the club, that man had tried to grab me for whatever reason, but the first time? At Benny’s house? That made no sense. I was nothing, no one. I had been a soldier, was now a shop owner, easily lost in a sea of people.
Until now.
In this moment I was extraordinary because Varic Maedoc had to have me, and I luxuriated in the feeling and let it fill me even as he shoved my face down onto the mattress and held me there.
Ass in the air, the new position slid him over my core, and the drag combined with the pounding and pressure and his heat sent me flying. The orgasm rushed over me before I was even aware I was caught in the wave.
“Oh yes, so tight, so hot,” he moaned as my muscles clamped around him, my entire body rigid with my release.
He followed me seconds later, pulsing inside my clasping channel. His grip in my hair and on my hip was so tight that even as I trembled with aftershocks beneath him, legs shaking with fatigue, cock spent, I couldn’t sink down onto the bed.
He continued to grind his hips against me until he finally stilled, heaving for breath, before he released my hair and lifted me up and sideways, just enough so that when he collapsed across my back, still balls-deep in my ass, he didn’t drive me down into my own cum.
“That was considerate of you,” I croaked, arms and legs splayed under him.
“That’s me,” he said, chuckling, and eased tenderly free of my body. His hand stayed in my hair for a moment before he rubbed the spot where he’d held me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I yawned, sated and exhausted, my body replete and my soul settled in my skin. “I’m good.”
“You’re not,” he advised. “That graze on your arm has bled through the bandage, you’re dehydrated, and you have to eat, and I need to give you a vitamin B shot.”
I grunted, turning my head so I could see him. My smile was huge.
“Humans have tricky upkeep.”
I laughed softly, so very happy in that moment that I felt anything was possible.
“Whatever can you possibly find funny about this situation?” He stroked my hair again and traced over my right eyebrow.
“You never even took off your suit.” I snickered, trying hard to keep my eyes open.
“It couldn’t be helped,” he informed me, his tone matter-of-fact. “My consort is far too tempting for me to waste time with getting undressed.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” He kept petting me. “He’s also quite vocal and demanding.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes, he’s very loud.” He sighed as he bent and kissed my temple and my eyebrow, the tip of my nose, and then gently, with those firm but supple lips of his, took my mouth.
I had been ravaged, and now he lay close, still touching me, kissing over my shoulders, and worshipping me with every brush of his lips. It was like a dream.
“I like you screaming my name,” he confessed, kissing me again before checking me over, pressing his hand to my forehead and gently prodding some of the bites he put on me. “I need to get you that water. You look flushed.”
“Just a few minutes more of this.”
“Any more of this, and you’ll fall asleep.”
I had no idea why he made that sound like a bad thing when falling asleep in his bed with him giving me every drop of his attention sounded like heaven to me.
“My consort,” he whispered as he stared at me. “Mine.”
I wanted to say yes, all his, for however long he desired, but I could feel myself fading, my body sinking down into the bed. No more words were happening.
I passed out within seconds.