Annabell is beside herself with jealousy and concern. No doubt, she must have seen the way I looked upon Everly. Of course, such is impossible as Annabell is unable to see my face.
Now that brings to light another conundrum—how is it that Everly can? Yes, yes, she admitted to mastering True Seeing, but could it be more than that? It certainly takes a person of advanced ability to be able to see through my disguise.
The last person who could was Vitrine…
Vitrine.
The same pain slams me as I think of her—as I remember her platinum hair, those sharp, green eyes. Prior to meeting Everly, I had thought of Vitrine as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And yet, now…
Now I am not so certain.
And there is another subject that plagues me. Annabell. When I went to her last night, I fed for a few minutes and when I attempted to mate her, I found I could not. I have never been overly attracted to Annabell, even as I can recognize her as a beautiful woman. Ordinarily my casual attitude towards her does not interfere with my erection, yet last evening it did. I found I could not stomach her—not her blood, not her company.
I have a good idea Everly is the reason why.
Blast!
Regardless, both ladies seem determined to drive me to my second grave, or possibly insanity. The distraction allows the necromancer to wedge himself further into my brain. He is keen and he is determined. To what end? I am not certain. I get the sense the necromancer is male from his thoughts. He, too, finds Everly enchanting. I find his attraction to her more disturbing than that of the incubus.
As to the incubus…
I could smell his touch upon Everly. I could scent the effect he had on her. She was wet. She wanted to receive him, but I am quite certain he did not enter her. For as easily as I could scent her desire, I could also scent her innocence. The dryad has never experienced a man inside her. And I intend to keep it that way. Which means I need to keep the incubus away from her. It’s a wonder he was able to keep himself away from her at all, given his proclivity towards women. I have heard rumors of Mr. Loveless and none of them paint him in a good light.
“Are you listening?” Annabell stares at me. Stands right in front of my chair to ensure I’m listening to her. Then the nymph crosses her arms as she does when angered.
I smile, and because she can’t see my face, I let the mirth in my answer carry to my voice. “No.”
Any other time, she would know I’m teasing her. Annabell usually huffs, but understands. Her reaction today is much more dramatic. But then again, this is the first time she’s found another woman under my roof. This is the first time she’s been faced with competition.
She weaves her fingers through her hair and pulls down on her lovely midnight strands. “Claude!”
I hate it when she fails to use my whole name. But I can’t be bothered enough to correct her. “What? What is it?” I stiffen and let a growl of irritation seep into my tone.
“You are… different.”
“Different how?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. You seem… distracted.”
“You think my control is slipping?” I ask because I’m worried for the same.
Annabell lets her hands drop, and her expression twists into wariness. “No… but…”
“But what?”
“The girl… Everly.”
Ah. I thought the dryad could be the reason for her angst. “What of her?”
“Are you planning on bedding her?” Annabell asks and glares at me.
“No.”
“I saw the way she looked at you.”
“Regardless, that doesn’t change the fact that I have no plans to seduce her.”
“You don’t find her attractive?”
“I find her extremely attractive.”
Annabell glares at me. Either Annabell trusts me or not. If not, it’s time for her to go.
“I thought maybe you were… sick of me.”
Of course. Her comment, about getting her own portrait, wasn’t just a jab at mistakes from my past. It was a concern about her place with me. Still, I do not want her believing she means more than she does. I’m fond of Annabell and grateful for her services, but my feelings for her never went beyond friendship. Good friendship, but there’s no spark of true attraction. Of course, I should never imagine to feel such a spark ever again. Not after what happened with Vitrine…
With a forced chuckle, I say, “Don’t worry, my dear Annabell, AB positive is still my favorite.” As far as blood type goes, AB positive is one of the rarest.
She sighs in relief and then smiles. She’s going to push again. Annabell wants a permanent position, not as my blood donor and lover, with a cushy, protected life and all her needs taken care of, but as something more. My mate.
“Annabell,” I say before she can broach the subject of “more” with me. A spike slices through my head, dividing my coherent thought and mental control. “Get out!” I roar. But not at her. At the creature in my head.
A streak of blue whips past me. My blurry vision focuses on the movement. I want to give chase. I want to attack. I move towards it in a split-second. And grab it. I have Annabell back against the wall, my hand around her throat. Her blue eyes widen. She appears quite frightened. “Anna… bell…”
Thank fuck she knows me and has survival skills. She leaves the room before my instincts take over. I drop my head to my hands and clench my eyes shut. I can feel the movement of the necromancer. I can feel him inside me. “Get
