Aurora
When I was forcibly turned as a vampire, I never imagined I’d be able to do much of anything beyond being a monster, let alone travel to Italy.
And as for the monster thing? Turns out, vampires are some of the nicest beings I’ve ever met. At least, most of them.
Icy chills scrape my skin with thoughts of Samuel. The way he’d torture and kill humans right in front of me, their cries starring in my nightmares. That’s what I thought I’d turn into. Depraved. Immoral. Inhuman.
I’ve never been so happy to be proven wrong.
Sure, I crave blood, but I’ll never hurt anyone. That much has been proven with my refusal to bite a volunteer feeder. And I may have a slippery mind, but I haven’t lost my humanity.
The black town car takes another winding curve, drawing my attention to the vast hills to our right. The night sky is clear and there’s something about the air in Tuscany that makes my heart sing. It smells fresh and ancient at the same time.
“That’s…that’s where we’re going?” I ask as golden lights illuminate rows of lush vineyards, little roads separating the massive sections.
Sprawling trees pepper the property, which, as the driver navigates us up a long, graveled path, boasts a gray-stone castle dating back to the thirteen-hundreds.
“This is yours now,” Saint says from where he sits on the opposite side of the town car.
It’s the most he’s said in hours. He’s been grumbly at best, and for him, that’s something.
I shake my head as the driver slows the car before parking it in front of what is a clearly modernized addition connecting to the property’s original castle. Beige sandstone and decorative columns and wide double doors sit just beyond a glistening fountain with lion statues.
“This is…” I don’t have words for what this is.
Not as Saint holds the massive front doors open for me, not as our driver settles our suitcases in the entryway before bidding us goodnight.
Not as I stand in the grand foyer, my eyes darting from the polished marble flooring to the sparkling crystal chandeliers that hang high above us.
“Overwhelming?” Saint asks when I don’t continue.
“Yes.” I let out a long breath, eyes drawing up to where he’s come to stand next to me. “I’m used to the king’s residence, but this is entirely different.”
Saint nods, holding my gaze for a moment.
Need pulls taut beneath my skin, a hunger that’s grown worse ever since I tasted him.
I still haven’t worked out if that’s simply a vampire trait, the incessant pull I have toward him being solely linked to the blood he has that I crave, or if it means something deeper.
My instincts shout one thing. Saint’s behavior toward me screams another.
“I need to clear the home.” Saint breaks my gaze, hurrying toward the closest room, which looks like a study.
I follow him through the first floor, doing my best to keep up with him, before I quickly give up.
He’s determined to check every room twice, and every concealed space three times.
I leave him to it, instead wandering through the main level that he’s already cleared.
I head past grand kitchens and a lavish living space until I find a wall of French doors, their windows teasing a gorgeous exterior.
Opening the set of doors, I head onto a grand terrace, my lips parting at the stone steps leading down to a long, deep pool illuminated by more of the golden lights decorating the property.
I can’t deny how luxurious everything looks, from the pool to the gardens surrounding it, to the vineyards beyond.
“The home is clear,” Saint says a few moments later. “I’ll check the castle in a moment, but there are only two entry points connecting it to this residence.”
I nod, suddenly feeling so tired I can feel it in my bones.
“This is not my life.” I swallow hard. “This is my father’s life.
” I shake my head. “He never let me see or learn about any of this. Not that he would, I guess. He never wanted to acknowledge I was his daughter. And sure, I buried the part of me that was him so much, I practically forgot the vampire blood that ran through my veins, but I never stopped being mildly curious. I tried to connect with him a couple times, but he refused. I wasn’t vampire enough for him to claim me.
” I glance at Saint, whose eyes are on me.
“Seems to be a theme,” I say more under my breath, but from the way his jaw clenches, I know he catches every word.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask before he can respond.
“Tend these vineyards? Keep up with the wine sales? Alek wants the Somerhaul vote with my new inherited position, but for what? Doesn’t he know I’m already on his side?
” The questions roll from my tongue the second I start down that thought pattern.
“I don’t know,” Saint admits. “I always left political matters to my broth—” He cuts off abruptly, pain lining his features before he clears it.
I feel that hurt like my own. I can’t imagine living for centuries with your twin brother, collecting good memories only for them to be obliterated by the bad. I’ve seen the conflict he has on a nightly basis slowly eat away at him. I wish above anything that I could take it away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, turning to face him.
“For what?” he tilts his head.
“For everything.” I shrug. “I’ve only ever known Samuel as the monster who tortured and turned me, but you’ve known him much longer as a brother you loved.”
Saint visibly swallows. “He’s no longer my brother.”
I take a step closer. “It’s okay to say he is,” I assure him. “All those years of love just don’t disappear.”
“They do.” His eyes are shinning.
“Saint,” I hedge, reaching for his hand.
My fingertips graze the back, and I swear electricity crackles where we touch.
“You know you can be yourself with me, right? You’ve seen me at my worst. Slipping in and out of reality.
Being afraid of my own damn shadow. Unsure how to separate the nightmares from real life.
” I blow out a breath. “You haven’t turned away from me.
And nothing could make me turn away from you, either. ”
His lips part, and my breath catches at the surprised look in his eyes.
“I…” He leans closer, almost like he can’t help but bend to draw nearer to my mouth.
“I need to clear the castle.” He pulls back, sending my head spinning.
“I took our bags to the primary chambers.” He turns and disappears before I can stop him.
“Okay then,” I say to the night, and turn back into a home that feels nothing like mine, despite it belonging to me now.
An hour before dawn, I’ve unpacked and settled in the oversized bed with a book. One good thing about this inheritance was the collection of rare books I found in the library on the third floor.
The place was immaculate, right down to the buttery soft bedding I have tucked around me.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to find a proper way to thank the staff who prepared the place for Saint and me.
Maybe Saint will know the correct way to say thank you, since I have no experience with noble decorum or customs. I have so much to learn if I’m going to be of service to the king.
Saint comes through the door I left open, looking entirely too good freshly showered.
He wears a pair of black sweats that hang low on his hips, his chest on full display.
I get lost in the whorls of ink decorating his skin, especially the mark identical to mine that winds up his neck, then the muscles corded beneath it.
He looks almost vulnerable like this—no holsters, no knives, no boots.
His feet are bare and tiny droplets of water cling to his short hair.
My fangs pulse as I catch his scent as he moves toward the couch across the room, a blanket in one hand and a pillow in the other.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” I say for the third time since we arrived.
He arches a brow at me, eyes lingering on the pink tank top I wear. “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse.”
I laugh. “Like a stone chamber?”
“Yeah.” There’s a small grin shaping his mouth. “Compared to that? This couch is heaven.”
I lean back, stretching against the luxurious mountain of pillows and blankets. “This bed is certainly something I could get used to,” I admit.
Saint settles on the sofa, facing me. “Could you live here?”
I sink farther into the pillows but shift so I can keep looking at him across the room.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I haven’t thought much about the future.
” I’ve been focused on surviving, adjusting, both of which I finally feel like I’m doing right for once.
“I have more to learn,” I continue. “Gabriel and I are only scratching the surface of my ability. We have more work to do, even though I’m terrified from moving on from testing myself against plants.
The idea of using my power on actual living creatures…
” I want to be able to help heal things, like I’ve healed plants, but I’ve killed just as many along the way.
Who’s to say I won’t do that with real beings?
“Gabriel is certainly a good teacher.” He offers. “But after all that, you could explore. This is all yours now.”
“I would miss you.” The admission flies from my mouth before I can stop it. “And my friends,” I hurry to add, clearing my throat. “What about you? You’ve lived all over the world. What do you want to do after…”
I don’t need to elaborate on what after means. After the war with Samuel and the Sons of Honor ends.
Saint shifts to his back, folding his arms beneath his head as he stares at the ceiling. “I haven’t let myself think that far ahead.”
Something about the way he says it has an instinct prickling deep in my soul. An itch that begs me to push him for the truth, but I respect him too much to pry for answers he’s not ready to give.
“Good night, Aurora,” he whispers after we’ve fallen silent for a few moments.
“Good night, Saint.” I settle farther under the covers as he turns the lights off before returning to the couch. And I hate how much I wished he’d join me in this bed instead.
Aurora’s thighs are soft as I stroke her legs before skimming higher to grip her hips.
I draw her closer to me, bending to capture her perfect mouth with mine as I settle between her thighs.
Fuck, she’s pliant and hot beneath me, smelling like a dream and feeling like my personal heaven.
She arches beneath me, so responsive to my touch, it’s like we’re magnets.
I kiss her deeper, stealing her breath and making her whimper.
She’s mine to please, mine to protect, mine to drink.
I draw back, my fangs aching to sink into her neck.
“Yes,” she begs. “Please.” She turns her head, exposing her neck.
I hesitate, but only for a moment, before I sink my fangs into her flesh—
I bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding. My fangs are out and heat pools deep in my core from the dream. That dream was most certainly from Saint’s point of view, not mine.
I see him across the room, sprawled on the couch, lost to sleep.
His dreams. I’m seeing them now. Even when he’s not trying to actively look into mine or alter my reality. I reach for a spare pillow next to me and chuck it at him.
Saint growls, immediately on his feet, a blade in his hand. “Aurora? What’s wrong?” he asks once he’s ascertained there’s no danger other than me.
“Either make good on your dreams or get out,” I snap, every nerve in my body tangled with need.
“You saw…” He shifts on his feet. For a second, I think he might give in. That maybe my surprise pillow attack has shaken some sense into him. “Fine.” He stomps out of the room.
I hear his footsteps make it to the room next to mine across the hall, then the door slams shut. I fall back into bed, thirsty, achy, and frustrated.