I awaken to the gentle glow of moonlight braking through my curtains.

Night.

It’s night. I’m home—and alive.

Technically, not alive, but I survived the night of my change. I’d call that a success. I can sense the difference in myself, and yet, I feel the same, causing my mind and body to be at odds. I’m almost certain, and I can hear the echoes of the busy world beyond the walls of my apartment. Car engines hum and conversation echoes from the busy cafe at the end of the corner. A woman laughs in the apartment on the top floor. Two houses over, children run up the stairs playing tag, and I can practically taste the delicious scent of the chicken marsala cooking across the street.

Still lying flat against my pillow, I take a slow breath in and pause, placing a hand over my heart.

No beat. No pulse. Nothing.

Okay, that’s gonna take some getting used to.

I expect my flesh to be void of warmth, but it’s not. Sweat covers every inch of my skin, and though I feel chilled by the hot-flashes that have now passed, I feel better than I have in weeks. Hell, in years.

It takes me a second to realize that I’m naked, aside from the soft-cotton T-shirt that’s draped over my otherwise bare flesh. The sheets that surround me are damp from the night-sweats that consumed me over the last god-knows-how-many hours.

I hear the faintest of movement and realize that though I’m surrounded in darkness, I’m not alone. My predatory instincts kick-in, and I sniff the air.

Carver is here.

I can feel him. Sense his presence long before he speaks. As though my awareness is on an entire other level. He sits in the worn-leather armchair beside the window. He’s not even that close, and yet Carver’s scent is concentrated. Instead of the subtle hint I’d gotten before my completed change, I can’t avoid it now. And just like before, it’s a drug to my senses. Arrows of need shoot down to my core, dampening my folds. My mind flashes, and for a moment, I remember pieces of the night before.

My body burns, as though a match has been lit from underneath my skin. I’m shivering and burning up, as I dry heave the contents of my empty stomach. I’m desperate for relief in any form. My throat and stomach feel drenched in molten lava as I thrash on the floor. The bones in me break and twist and then reform as I cross over, losing my humanity. Just when I am convinced I won’t survive, he’s there.

Carver drops down onto the floor and smooths the hair from my face. I beg him to end my suffering. He calls me ‘ma belle’ and speaks to me in French. Seconds later, he scoops me up into his arms, and though I’m frightened, I feel safer.

He came for me.

I remember brief flashes of him as he appeared like an avenging angel. I’d expected the change to be brutal, but in reality, I had no comprehension of just how brutal it could be.

“Try not to move so much, chérie. Give yourself a moment to adjust to the change.”

I grasp the blanket around my waist and breasts. My new gifts have made it impossible to not notice the delicious scent of Carver’s cologne mingled with his sweat and skin, or the way his tongue moves with the tinges of his accent. A dozen words from his lips, and my body is ready and aching.

I clear my throat. “Where is Reina?”

“Not here.”

Panic settles into my chest, and I jolt upright. “Is she alright? Did I do something?”

“No, chérie. Calm down, she’s fine. I informed her that it would be best, for her own safety, to return tomorrow morning, when the change has completed.”

Relief—than immediate dread—hits me like a bucket of ice water. It’s done. I’d gone from Aurora Hedvige, human, to creature of the night.

Christ, I could make things sound so melodramatic.

“So, it’s over?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And now I’m—I’m. . . Dead.”

“Kresova,” he corrects me. “Not dead.”

“You don’t consider becoming a vampire dying?”

“No, chérie.”

“I don’t have a pulse, Carver,” I state flatly.

“Place a hand upon your chest. Perhaps your heart no longer beats, but do you still think and feel? Do you still care? Do you still want?”

My thoughts immediately imagine him adding, “me to fuck you?” to the end of his question.

And the answer is, yes. Yes, I do.

I want him.

Naked. On the bed. Against the wall. In the shower. You name it. But I’m also furious after the events that transpired at Queen Morana’s court. I may have let it go, but I haven’t forgotten. And now, just when I thought my horny ass vampire desires would settle after the change as Carver had promised me before, they haven’t. Here I am, fully transformed and faced with just as much desire for this man, if not more, than before.

“I’m failing to see your logic,” I finally answer.

“Kresova is not death. It is a new form of life. Your heartbeat has gone, and in its place, you’ve gained another soul.”

“Another soul?”

“Yes.”

“Your human one remains, and now you have your Kresova one as well.”

I rub at the bridge of my nose. “Okay, this is getting complicated. Forget I asked.”

He chuckles. “In time, I will explain everything to you, and in time, you’ll want to know.”

“If you say so.” I’m about to stand when I plop back down recalling just how undressed I am. “Um, can you grab me some clothes?”

“Of course.” The leather squeaks as he rises from the chair.

I tug at the hem of my shirt. “Why am I wearing this . . . and nothing else?”

“You ripped the clothes from your flesh, chérie. That can happen in the midst of your change.”

I should be focused on the fact that I’d been so out of my mind I’d shredded my clothes, but instead, only one fact seizes my attention.

“You saw me naked?”

He shrugs. “It is nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Yes, it is.” I raise my chin, “You haven’t seen my body before.”

Carver sighs. “Only days ago, you were ready to become naked with a strange man in public.” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Now, a man you know sees you naked, takes care of you, and covers you—yet you remain angry.” He moves toward my dresser. “I don’t understand you.”

With one hand, he tugs open the top two drawers. He rifles through them for a minute, before turning and heading into my closet. He pulls out a long silk gown I wore for Halloween once, seeming satisfied. “There,” he says, tossing the dress, a bra and panties onto the bed before me.

The fact that he has his hands on my panties has me imagining all kinds of dirty scenarios, but I try to keep my mind focused on the anger I feel. He may have been sweet and kind, nursing me through the transition, but this is the same man who allowed that woman, Queen Morana, to dry fuck him in the middle of three dead bodies, all while I watched from the sidelines.

I gather the clothes into a pile in my lap, “Can you turn around? Or Leave?”

He raises a brow but doesn’t take a step toward the door. Instead, he turns to face the window, giving me his back.

I scoot to the edge of the bed and watch him to make sure he hasn’t moved. He remains in the same position, his gaze focused silently on the world outside. I’d always thought the window in my room to be large, but with Carver beside it, it seems half its normal size. In fact, everything in my bedroom seemed to shrink with the addition of his presence.

I can’t help but admire him. His coiled, firm arms. His slim waist. His broad, muscular shoulders. I lift up my tee and pull on the black lace bra he selected.

Fuck.

I can still smell his skin on the fabric of my bra and panties. He’d held it for only seconds, but that doesn’t matter. It’s as though he’d rubbed it all over his chest before handing it to me. I hate how much he affects me. The only way I see to temper it down is to not give him an inch right now.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting anything from me in return for your kindness.”

I’m grateful, but I’m also pissed. After the way he’d behaved at Morana’s court, I could strangle him. I also refuse to admit how strangely jealous and annoyed I’m feeling. Lucky me that the queen who apparently runs everything—including my new life—is such a callous bitch who wants to screw Carver. Every second in her presence made my stomach turn, and yet Carver just leaned into her every action like some besotted schoolboy.

He chuckles, the sound bouncing off the four small walls of my bedroom. “A simple thank you would do.”

“Ha! Not happening.” Bra and panties on, I toss off the blanket and slip into the dress.

“You are jealous.”

My head jerks up to see Carver facing me again as I zip the back. “What?”

“It is why you are angry, chérie. I can smell the desire as it rolls off of you. It’s mingled with your anger.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “That combination in women only means one thing—jealousy.”

I give him my best “fuck you” stare as I shake out my bedhead until I’m convinced it looks semi-decent.

“You can deny it all you want, but in the many centuries I have lived, I’ve discovered much about the mysteries of women.”

“Oh, so now you have all the answers?”

“No, Aurora. Nor have I ever claimed to. But I can certainly tell when a woman lies.”

I cross my arms over my chest, “You want honesty from me?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asks.

“Why did you let her do that to you?” My voice raises with every word, and now that I’ve let the truth out, I can’t stop myself. “Do you love her? Do you want her?” I shake my head. “I just don’t get it. She’s a horrible person. You watched her. You were there. She drained three innocent men and then fondled you with her blood covered hands.” I pivot onto my hip. “Nothing about that bothered you?”

“There is much you have yet to understand about our world, Aurora. I’ve told you before. One does not deny the request of the queen.”

“So, you do whatever she tells you to?”

“Yes, as we all must.” He dips his head looking at me from beneath his thick lashes. “Even you.”

I laugh. “No. I am not going near that—that creature—ever again.”

“You will obey, Aurora.”

“No—Car-vell.” I accentuate every syllable of his given name. “I won’t. I don’t care about the consequences. Even if that means my death.” I run a hand through my hair. “Or my real death. Whatever you want to call it.”

He takes a step toward me. “You may not care, but I do.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again.

“See! Even you don’t have a good answer.”

“This is much greater than simply showing obedience.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

He pauses a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Those who do not obey her, face dire consequences. I would not have that for you, chérie.”

“You don’t know me enough to care.”

“And yet I do.”

My non-existent heart flip-flops, and I tell it to shut the hell up. The last thing I need is to start having feelings combined with the desire Carver already evokes in me.

“So, what are you to her? Her lover?”

“No, chérie. A lover would imply an emotional connection.”

“So, then what? You’re her whore?” I know it’s a shitty thing to say, but again, I can’t stop myself. The green-eyed monster is one nasty bitch.

His gorgeous blue gaze burns into me, “Yes, I have been her whore.”

I said it to be cruel, but hearing him confirm it as the truth hurts more than I care to admit.

“Whatever,” I say, waving him off as I head toward the bedroom door. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Carver blocks my path. “Oh no, chérie.” His voice is dark and lethal. “You brought it up. Now you’ll have to hear about it.”

“I said I don’t care.” I try to push past him, but he stretches his arm across the frame.

“There was a time where I was nothing but a whore, giving hundreds of the richest of women constant pleasure.”

“Stop it.”

“Does that bother you? Make your desire for me lessen?"

No, it doesn’t make me want him any less. But it hurts. He’s not mine, and yet it feels like he is. The thought of anyone else having him makes me want to scratch their eyes out.

“I—”

He cuts me off. “They once called me ‘The Lord of Pleasure,’ chérie.” Carver licks his full bottom lip, and my eyes trace the movement. “My skill is second to none. I can make a woman quake long before I’ve entered her.”

“Carver—”

“With only my words, ma belle.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

But I can tell it’s not okay. He feels judged by me. And my stupid words have cut him. I don’t like to hear him talk about himself in such a tasteless way.

“What woman wouldn’t want to be served by such a magnificent whore, chérie.” He lowers his head until his mouth is a breath from mine. “Perhaps I will give you one free ride, as they say. Would you like that?”

I shove at his chest. “What are you doing?”

“What a whore does,” he says, eyes narrowed.

“I said I was sorry!” I cross the room until I’m a good dozen feet from him. “I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“I want you . . .”

I throw my hands into the air. “You want me to what?”

He stalks forward, and instinctually, I find myself taking steps back to further the distance between us. Abruptly, Carver’s in front of me. So abruptly, I didn’t see him move. This close, I can smell him again. I jerk as the same tantalizing scent from before lays siege to my nerve endings. Rich dark chocolate and red wine.

Decadent. Sinful. Tempting.

“I want you, ma belle.” The anger in his eyes dissolves as they caress over me. “I want you naked and writhing in my arms as I fuck you senseless, and bring you to orgasm over and over.” He leans in and inhales against the vein of my neck. “And then I’ll make love to you, slowly, as I savor every inch of you. I’ll worship your body with my own until you can’t fathom a second without me. I’ll give you everything you want, Aurora, because you are more to me than just a fuck.”

I’m practically panting, and I can’t seem to formulate words. Whatever is happening between us is big.

No, it’s bigger than big, it’s the fucking Titanic of emotions on crack. It’s beautiful, and terrifying, and I want to fight it, to run away from it—but I can’t.

Not anymore.

I’m not in love with Carver. I know that. But someday? I could be. Because this tether between us was formed long before I set eyes on him. It struck me the moment I’d been changed, maybe even before that. My soul knew that the world had shifted, and my destiny had been altered. Maybe it’s track had been righted. I don’t know. All I am certain of, is I can’t hold back anymore.

So, I do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t.

I give in.