For fuck’s sake. Comforting vampires? First Connor, now Bastian. If I’m not careful, I’ll be comforting Rome next. Or, God forbid, James.
Bastian makes a noise in his throat as he considers my question, drawing my attention back to him. And when he speaks, his answer is nothing like what I expected it would be.
“What I remember most—most vividly and most frequently—is my parents dying,” he murmurs. “They were slaughtered in front of my eyes.”
He gazes out over the city, but his eyes are haunted, watching a scene I can’t see. Remembering every second of their deaths, I’m sure. No matter how long ago it happened, I’m positive he can still recall the exact details.
I take another step toward him in spite of myself. I recognize that look, and the feeling behind it. I know that pain. I live in that pain.
“Who killed them?” I ask softly.
“A vampire hunter.”
I stare at him, stunned, my heart going still in my chest for a moment as I stop breathing.
We’re two sides of the same coin, and only one of us knows it.
For once, Bastian doesn’t seem to notice the small shift in my body as I react to his words. He lives in his memory for a moment more, the pain carving deep lines in his young-looking face.
I’m still struggling to breathe right, struggling to push down the emotions surging inside me. I don’t know what to do with these feelings. I don’t want to get any closer to him, but I can’t pull away.
Soon, though, he sighs and smooths his brow, tucking that pain away into some hidden part of himself. All at once, he’s Prince Bastian again, royal vampire in need of a tribute.
My heart skips a beat as he moves toward me, closing the small distance between us. There are so many different ways this could go. I feel like I experienced both extremes the day that both James and Rome fed on me, and from what I’ve seen, Bastian isn’t a disgusting animal when he drinks the way James is, but my heart still flutters with nerves.
The prince surprises me again though. Instead of going right for my neck, he turns me around so that I’m facing the city. It glitters and gleams as if it has something to offer, but I know better. Still, the view is killer. So is the man currently putting his arms around me, holding me close, cradling my body against his like a lover.
The worst part is, I have trouble remembering that he’s a killer as he brushes the hair off my neck and cradles my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t tease—but he doesn’t gnaw on me the way James did either. He breathes on my neck just enough to warm it, sending a slow heat spreading through my body.
I barely notice when his teeth slide into me, but I recognize the wave of ecstasy that goes along with the bite. I don’t know if it’s his practiced touch or his painful confession, but I’m drawn to him. I press close, resting my back against his chest and reaching up to run my fingers through his hair as my other hand holds his larger one flat against my belly.
His lips move on my throat like violent kisses. I can feel his strength, his control… and a bit of leftover melancholy. I understand that. I can’t talk about my parents without it fucking up my mood for days. Some part of me hopes I didn’t fuck him up by prompting him to recall it, and I tell myself that it’s just because a vampire in a shitty mood is more dangerous than a happy one.
I don’t entirely believe my own excuse though.
Bastian finishes before I’m ready for the moment to end and licks my wounds closed. He leaves his face where it is, buried in my neck. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was drawing comfort from our embrace.
There’s a tug in my soul as we stand on the chilly rooftop together, a dangerous, impulsive urge to throw caution to the wind and open up to him the way he opened up to me.
If I were a different person—if he were a different person—I would.
Because the thing I remember most is my parents dying too.
Chapter Sixteen
“God, it’s like high school all over again out there,” Jessica complains a few days later as she flops backward onto my bed. “Winona’s got a whole clique going. They all hate her. They all worship her. It’s gross. Elise is collecting all the short-term girls. She says she’s teaching them how to avoid getting picked, but when I asked her to help me learn, she just laughed.”
I frown. “She laughed?”
Jessica shrugs miserably, twisting her hair around her finger as she stares at the ceiling. “She says there’s nothing she can do for me since I signed such a long-term contract. She says if I had made a point of being able to leave sometime this decade, she could have shown me how to get out of here single, but…”
She trails off, pressing her lips tight together like she’s trying not to cry as she runs a hand through her dark hair.
I turn back to the wardrobe, where I’m re-organizing my borrowed clothes for what feels like the hundredth time. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about the clothes themselves, or about closet organization, but it gives me something to do with my hands. I get twitchy when I’m anxious, and if I don’t find an outlet for the excess energy, it usually comes out in the form of blurting stupid shit at the wrong moment.
“You are going to be here for a long time,” I point out as gently as I can. “Are you going to try to stay unbonded that whole time, or is there somebody specific you’re trying not to bond with?”
Jessica snorts, but I can still hear the tears in her voice. I hang up
