Chapter 12 Ciprian
CHAPTER TWELVE
CIPRIAN
Viviana’s emotions and thoughts warm my mind as I enter the sitting area just off of my suite.
Pressing a button on a nearby tablet, I say, “Radu?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Could you please arrange a late lunch for me and Ms. Dalca to enjoy in my rooms?”
“Of course, my lord. Any meal preferences?”
“No broccoli” is all I can reply, but as I sense Viviana joining me, I turn to face her. “Are you craving anything in particular?”
She stares at me. “Something warm for my throat might be nice.”
I arch a brow, wondering if she’s being purposely coquettish or if she means it. “Soup, perhaps?”
Something in her gaze lights up. “Tomato soup?”
It’s a strange choice, but I repeat it to Radu.
“I’m certain our chef could make something that suits, my lord,” he promises me. “Would Ms. Dalca like anything to go with it? A grilled cheese, perhaps?”
I’m about to comment on that bizarre choice when my intended mate smiles and nods. So I simply say, “Yes, I believe she would enjoy that.” Though, I have no idea why, I think.
Because it’s amazing, she fires back into my mind.
And I’m rather pleased to hear that instant response, as she appeared a little… out of sorts when I left the bedroom.
“Any cheese preferences?” Radu asks, and since he doesn’t use my title, I assume he’s talking to Viviana. So I arch a brow at her, daring her to answer.
“Anything French would be nice,” she replies.
“Of course, Ms. Dalca,” he murmurs, a hint of warmth in his tone. “Any other requests?”
“Dessert,” she says, giving me a look. “Something chocolaty and not salty.”
My eyebrows lift.
But Radu can’t see me as he eagerly murmurs, “I know exactly what to prepare. We’ll be up soon.”
The line goes dead, his formalities in addressing me seeming to have disappeared. If I didn’t like the human male so much, I might be tempted to castigate him later for it.
However, I’m far more intrigued by my pet very clearly saying she will not be having my cock for dessert. “Would you prefer to suck me off as an appetizer, pet?”
“No.” It’s a flat answer, one I don’t particularly care for.
“You’re rejecting me?”
“No,” she repeats. “I’m establishing a boundary. I want a safe word.”
“What is the meaning or purpose of a safe word?”
“It gives me some control in intimate encounters and allows me to tell you when you’ve gone too far.”
“And if I disagree with the assessment?” I question. “If I feel you’re using the word inappropriately?”
“That’s not the point, Your Highness.” She folds her arms, drawing my gaze to her bare breasts. “The word is for me so that I can voice when something makes me uncomfortable. And if you want to be a good intimacy partner, you will respect my choice to use it.”
“I believe we already established that we’re not equals here.”
“More than established, yes,” she replies, sounding tired again. “Do you care if I feel safe, my king?”
“Stop using titles and call me Ciprian.”
“You pointed out that it’s rude.”
“Because it is,” I inform her. “It goes against the customs of my kind. Only one person ever refers to me as Ciprian, and it’s my best friend. And only ever when we’re alone.” I start toward her, wanting to touch her. “I would like for you to call me Ciprian, too. Also… when we’re alone.”
“And when we’re not?” she asks, her wary tone not lost on me.
“For now, if we are around others, you will need to address me by my title. Otherwise, my fellow Strigoi may take offense. That’s why rules are important. Formalities, too.”
“If you’re the king, don’t you make the rules?”
“Some,” I admit. “But not all. And you’re a human. Your kind is inferior to mine.”
“Yet you’ve referred to me as your intended mate,” she says. “How does that work?”
“It works quite well, I assure you,” I murmur, cupping her jaw and drawing her gaze up to mine. “Strigoi often take humans as mates, Viviana.”
“So your kind enjoys submissive partners?”
I shrug. “Many of us do, yes. But not all of my kind.”
“I was being sarcastic.” Her exhaustion is palpable again, as is her mounting agitation.
“Explain it to me,” I ask her. “Tell me what you mean, Viviana. Help me understand. Please.”
It’s the softest I’ve ever spoken to anyone in my entire existence.
However, this female has gifted me with a pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever known. And not just physically. Her fiery nature pleases me. It probably shouldn’t. But I like that she doesn’t fear me. It’s enthralling. It makes me feel… human.
Which is bizarre.
I’m used to invoking terror unless using the art of compulsion.
Yet Viviana studies me with interest in her gaze. Lust. Excitement.
Although, right now, she’s looking at me like she’s thinking about stabbing me. And that only intrigues me more.
“Humans are beneath your kind,” she says. “Right?”
“Mortals are not as strong or as powerful as Strigoi, yes.”
“Yet Strigoi take humans as mates, thus suggesting that your kind enjoys having an inferior partner in a relationship. Some might call that a submissive.” She bristles a little.
“But even a submissive is allowed a safe word. So I suppose a slave is more accurate. Which gives credence to you calling me a pet, I guess.”
My gaze narrows a bit, understanding creeping in. “You’re offended.”
“I’m a lot of things right now, Your Highness,” she mutters, closing her eyes as she rubs the goose bumps pebbling along her arms. “This has been an overwhelming… God, has it only been twenty-four hours since I arrived here?”
“Yes. But time is a mortal construct. And our history already spans years, Viviana, making it the longest courtship of my existence.”
She blinks. “Courtship? You think this is a courtship?”
“Yes,” I repeat, then pull her into my arms and lift her into the air.
She squeals in response, her mind shouting alarm at the things she assumes I’m about to do to her.
“Relax, Ms. Dalca,” I tell her. “I’m simply carrying you into my closet to find something for you to wear so that you’ll stop shivering.”
The tension doesn’t leave her form, not even as I set her down to search for a shirt.
Once I find a suitably soft fabric, I unbutton it and drape it around her petite shoulders. The length hits her thighs, making it resemble a dress on her. One I rather like since it’s my shirt and her wearing it makes her look like she belongs to me.
She says nothing as I fasten the buttons up her torso, just watches me with distrust in her gaze.
“In my home world, humans are aware that Strigoi exist. We’ve formed a society together, one where Strigoi protect the mortals and mortals feed the Strigoi. So while yes, humans are seen as inferior due to their weaker states, they’re not treated as slaves.”
I thread my fingers through hers and lead her from the closest but head into the bathroom rather than back into the bedroom.
Pausing at a set of drawers, I find a comb, then turn her to face the mirror while I begin to gently detangle her hair. It’s the least I can do since the dark strands are knotted from my ministrations.
Though, I may need to have her shower again, as I’m rather certain some of this is from my seed, not just my fingers fisting her thick hair.
However, rather than comment on that, I continue telling her about the Strigoi Kingdom and the relationships between my kind and humans.
“Strigoi often take mortals as lovers and mates because our kinds rely on the other to survive. The heart of the relationship is a blood exchange—Strigoi need mortal essences to stay alive, and humans can achieve true immortality by imbibing from a Strigoi’s vein.”
“I-immortality?” she stammers, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “Drinking from you makes me immortal?”
“It can, yes. If you imbibe enough.” I find a particularly difficult knot and focus on it for a long moment, all while she watches me.
After the comb successfully goes through the cluster of strands, I continue explaining the mate-bond between Strigoi and humans. I tell her how it takes three blood exchanges to fully ignite, but a vow and sex to marry the souls together.
“Strigoi mate for life,” I inform her quietly.
“Once we choose our other half, we don’t feed from anyone else.
We don’t fuck anyone else, either.” I tell her that part while holding her gaze again.
“Strigoi are very possessive creatures, Ms. Dalca. We’re loyal, too. And our blood connections are sacred.”
She swallows, drawing my gaze down to her slender throat. I very much enjoyed how that felt around my cock. But I don’t tell her that now. I’ve upset her—something that’s far more evident to me now that I can hear her thoughts—and I want to fix it.
“As I told you, I’m new to this. No other human has tempted me like you do. It’s…” I trail off, searching for the right words to help her understand. “I feel overwhelmed with lust, Viviana. All I want to do is live inside you. To experience pleasure. To finally feel connected to another being.”
I finish combing her hair, letting my explanation settle between us.
Her mind seems to be processing the statements, her anger somewhat abating. However, I can tell the matter of verbal consent still bothers her.
So while she considers everything I said, I consider everything she’s said. Particularly about her desire to have a safe word. It’s an interesting concept regarding control, one I’m intrigued by.
“If you voice your word of choice, and I do not agree with the timing and don’t stop, that harms trust between us, yes?” I ask, wanting to be sure I understand the purpose of her needing this boundary.
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation. “If you ignore it, that defeats the purpose.”
“And will make you distrust me.”
“Absolutely.” Her eyes find mine in the mirror again. “And I already don’t trust you not to hurt me.”
Irritation prickles my chest. Irritation… at myself. Because I don’t particularly care for her distrust. “I’ve hurt you?”
“You’ve scared me,” she clarifies. “A lot.”
I frown. “You don’t seem to fear me.”