I want to cuddle into him.
I am so fucked in the head.
“My apologies,” he says. “That’s probably not the impression I should make if I want to impress your family.”
Itzel isn’t looking at his face. Her gaze is below his belt, because he isn’t wearing a belt, and he never refastened his pants. They are down around his ankles. Frankie stands as erect as a flag pole. His one eye salutes Itzel.
The older woman clears her throat before she jerks her gaze away. “You’re needed, Zahara.”
It takes me a moment to tear my gaze away from Frankie. The little monster certainly knows how to get attention. I walk to the door.
When Virius starts to follow, pants still around his ankles, I hold up my hand. “No, you stay here.”
He frowns at me.
“You’re my captive, remember?”
The frown doesn’t leave his handsome face. Nor does he make a move to pull up his pants.
“Go back to the bed, or I’ll have to bring out the chains.”
“You like bondage?”
I realize he’s asking a legitimate question. Not a hint of kink-shaming.
“I’ll be back later,” I say, avoiding his question and, more importantly, avoiding my piqued interest in the subject matter.
Virius bends, giving me a delectable view of his ass. It’s just as nice as the front package. When he straightens, I see that he has a dagger pointed at me. My dagger.
“Here,” he says, handing it to me.
I want to tell him that no one here will hurt me. Instead, I say nothing. I’m gratified that Itzel didn’t see that I had dropped not only my guard against my prisoner, but also my weapon.
Virius toes off his pants, then he kicks them into a corner of the cave. With one final glance over my shoulder, I see him go and sit on the bed, lounging as a panther would. I tear my gaze from him and follow Itzel down the narrow passageway.
“What do you think you’re doing, playing with that demon like that?” she demands once we are out of the vampire’s earshot. “Remember your role, Zahara. Remember your purpose.”
As if I could forget. It’s been drilled into my head since before I could form words. As I open my mouth to speak, I see shadows moving from the wall, some in feline form, others on human legs. They all converge on me, gazes flashing, shining the bright light of sacred responsibility directly into my eyes.
“I know,” I say. “My womb will birth the child to save our land and our kind.”
“Don’t forget the other part,” says Itzel. “The prophecy says he’ll die before the child is born. So don’t get attached.”
Chapter 7
Virius
I can’t keep my fingers off my lips. They still tingle from where I pressed them to Zahara’s. They feel swollen, like I’ve been punched in the mouth. I’ve been hit in the face many times; the majority of blows came when I was still human.
If it wasn’t my mother, or the lena, or one of the puellas of the brothel knocking me out of their way, then it was someone on the street throwing into me. As a human, I had to fight for every breath I took, every scrap of food I stole, every tendril of warmth I could scrounge. By the time Domitia turned me, I’d given up the fight.
I was scrawny and helpless as a child. I grew overlarge and stout when I came into my manhood. As a vampire, I had the power to take whatever I wanted. But by then there was nothing that I craved.
It was what Gaius called irony. Something or other to do with opposites that are funny. I laugh now as I run my fingers over my swollen lips. It was a wee cat who had taken a swing at me and landed me on my ass.
I settle down on the uncomfortable cot. I slept on cobblestones as a boy. For centuries, I’ve had the luxury of feathers and down and memory foam beneath me. I don’t want to get used to the rickets of this poor excuse for a bed. Tomorrow, I’ll take Zahara back to the house and wrap her in silks.
Though, she is a cat. She might prefer feathers.
I lick my lips at the thought of her covered in feathers. The taste of her is still in the corner of my mouth. There’s even a hint of her blood on my tongue.
She is O-positive; the most common blood type on the planet. On any other day, I would pass on that type. I always find it bitter and flat at the same time.
Not so when it comes from Zahara’s veins. With just the drop of her lifeblood, I have a rush of sensation to my head. My teeth ache at the sweetness of it. My hunger grumbles for some more of it. I know from this moment on, from this taste, I will never drink anything else.
Zahara wants me to lie with her, to fuck her? Oh, irony is having its fun with me today. That will not happen. Though the beast below begs to differ, I will keep my monster cock from her.
I will be happy to kiss her senseless for the rest of her life. I will spend my nights scratching and petting her. Then I’ll sip my fill from her lips. And later, when she allows it, I’ll tap one of her veins for my sustenance.
I close my eyes to wait for her return. In the silence of the cave, I hear her voice. She’s far away from the hovel she’s left me in. But I sense her distress. She feels cornered, trapped.
My feet are on the floor before I have any conscious thought of moving. The closed and locked door isn’t even a thought. When it meets the thrust of my shoulder, it learns it was never an obstacle. Not if it stands between me and her.
The voices are still faint, but they aren’t my guide. Zahara’s scent
