My mouth opens with shock and that outraged emotion only grows stronger. His traitorous tongue slides along my skin between the open-mouthed kisses he presses swiftly and slowly down the side of my neck.
“What the fuck, Prey!” My palms flatten against his shoulders but, it’s only the briefest moment of violent intent.
The curve of his lips tilt up with a cruel smile, and that’s the last thing I remember before his sharp teeth scrape against my flesh.
And then pierce my skin.
My muscles slacken. The hard, repulsed curl of my lips fades as a gasp of wanton need sneaks out.
That’s what fucked me into this screwed up situation to begin with.
Need.
The anger in me is so far gone now that it might never come back. My palms against his soft shirt are no longer shoving, but clutching. My fingers tangle right into that black cotton tee-shirt like all I want is to pull him closer.
And so I do.
I pull until his body is flush against the side of mine and the demanding need within me settles low in my body. Lower than my stomach. Low in my sex. It pulses there, and I think my blood is pulsing itself along my throat, but I’m not nearly aware of that at all.
“Prey!” I gasp as my hand slides lower. I don’t stop until my fingertips slide beneath the cotton cloth and start trailing the hard lines of his abdomen.
A groan of his own hums against my throat, and that initial pain of his teeth is no longer there as he kisses me tenderly. Sweetly.
Lovingly.
“Sleep, Pretty Human. Sleep.” His hot mouth drifts higher and he presses a tender kiss to the line of my jaw. I turn to him like I’m drawn to the soothing sound of his delicious voice.
I’m leaning into the small space that separates us. I feel the heaviness of his breath along my parted lips. Every single thing I feel is Prey.
“Prey,” I whisper in a trembling gasp.
His hand along my face is light and caressing.
“Sleep, Pretty Pet. Before I change my mind and make you my favorite snack for the rest of your short, miserable existence.” There’s an audible sadness in his voice.
It hurts to hear. My hand slides along his ribs and I’m simply holding to comfort him now.
As is he. He lets me hold him, and I let him do the same for me.
The beautiful way he feels wrapped around me is all I can think about.
And that’s something I hope I’ll remember when I wake.
If I wake.
Eleven
Prey
Fuck.
Twelve
Aston
His back is to me, but he’s greatly aware of my presence the moment the door quietly clicks closed behind me. I know he hears every single detail from the slow stride of my shoes to the warm glass of blood I pour myself in his favorite little study. The bottle dribbles at the end, and a few droplets land on the shelf next to a set of law books.
The small room consists of an entire wall of old musty books, actually. Most of them are so ancient that the bindings are fraying apart. Other than his books, he has a lone leather chair and a messy desk with too many unread notes that he can’t bother to waste his time with.
That’s Royale in a nutshell though. Boring and wasteful.
Just as he is with Kyra.
I pull a first edition copy of—whatever is nearest, really—and the moment I open it, a thin page crinkles out and wafts down slowly to land in front of my sneaker. I toss the book back down with a dusty slam. It now sits carelessly out of place, and I know it’ll drive him crazy.
Whenever he bothers to look my way that is.
The way Royale ignores me is more deliberate today than most days.
Sure he usually hates me and avoids my presence, but today he’s displaying a very special hate indeed. And it makes me wild with desire to take it further.
“Good evening!” I say loudly, my smile stretching even more with the idea of making him crack that smooth facade of clam he always carries so well.
Fuck his calm.
I want to see his chaos.
Any little emotion. Any of it. Crist, why is he so chronically boring?
Still his back is to me as he simply looks out at the dark grassy expanse that rolls across the estate. Sure, he can try to ignore me.
But I know I’ll win eventually.
I take a long sip of the fresh blood Acessa herself collected this morning. The taste of the new stock washes over my tongue and though he is a stoically boring vampire, Royale does appreciate the finest stock.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I ask casually as I circle his tiny study. I stumble against the fine rug and leave the corner overturned as I go. I drag my hand along the sleek black fireplace and leave a nice smear of blood across his mantle as I go. The embers inside are dwindling, but still warm.
Just like she felt when I stood close enough to taste the worry in her every heavy exhale.
His lack of a response as he stands like a fucking second rate Batman overlooking Gotham baits me to push him further. Harder.
I need to fucking break him.
“Did you grow tired of her?” I take a long drink and drain the cup. The glass doesn’t shatter as I toss it onto the stack of scattered papers lining his desk. Blood rains across the pages in a splatter of pretty art. “Did you—did you kill her, Royale?” His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers slowly into his palm. “She once told me she would have done it to you if given the opportunity.” The profile of his face is all I can see, and the strain of his jaw is like cocaine hitting my system after the last three decades of numbness in this goddamn monstrous body. “She said that right before I fucked her, Royale.
