Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIVI
The emotionless way Ciprian recounts his past suggests he has no heavy feelings regarding his history. However, his dedication to forgo standard trial practice tells me how he truly feels.
He spent over a thousand years hunting for the right candidate, choosing to renounce his kind’s customs in favor of creating a new tradition.
One that has culminated in him finding me.
“Mates share everything,” he explained shortly after mentioning his mother’s suicide.
“Every thought. Every feeling. Every regret.” He stopped looking at me then, choosing to stare across the room as he added, “My mother knew how my father felt about her sister. He loved Shyla. And… my mother looked just like her.”
I didn’t need him to tell me what came next because I already knew.
Yet he said it anyway. “My father pretended my mother was Shyla. He even called her by that name, forever reminding her that she was never his true choice. Yet they were mated. Because the Strigoi chose her.”
He went on to tell me that his father hated the Strigoi for that decision. He blamed Ciprian’s mother, too. And that… led to a bleak future.
“Shortly after I turned eighteen, I found my mother hanging from the balcony.” He didn’t go into much detail after that, just said that the memory is one that would haunt him forever.
It sounded like a warning—a way of letting me know that it would soon haunt me, too. Once we’re mated.
But I’m not intimidated by his past or his mind.
I am, however, nervous about these trials. They’re clearly dangerous. And his Strigoi have waited a long time to vet a potential queen. Far longer than normal, from what he just explained to me at the dining table.
We’ve been talking since I woke up in his bed, only recently relocating downstairs for a meal.
It’s very different from my first few days here when he seemed obsessed with putting his tail inside me. Now he’s focused on teaching me everything.
Because we’re on a deadline.
I should probably be freaked out. Terrified. Demanding that he let me go.
However, I’m none of those things. I’m simply lounging in the chair I was meant to sit in the first night here, eating another grilled cheese sandwich.
All while he watches.
“You really should try it,” I encourage him, nodding to the gooey deliciousness on his plate.
He frowns down at it. “I can’t believe I let you suggest this.”
“Consider it my version of a trial,” I tell him. “I’ve yet to really see you eat. Do Strigoi not require food?”
His gaze runs over me, pausing on the buttons of the clean shirt he put on me before bringing me down here. He didn’t opt to change, despite the rumpled nature of his suit. Feeding me was apparently more important than swapping out wrinkled clothes for a freshly pressed outfit.
“I believe I ate you yesterday, Ms. Dalca. And the day before.”
I’m not sure if he’s referring to drinking my blood or the actions between my thighs. Maybe even both. And just the thought of it sends warmth up my neck. But I distract myself by saying, “I meant food, Ciprian. Do Strigoi need anything other than blood?”
“No.” He picks up his glass of wine and takes a drink. “However, we enjoy indulging in flavor, so many of us eat.” His gaze goes to my breasts before slowly traveling up to my face. “Frequently.”
“Why do I think you’re talking about sex and not a meal?”
Crimson bleeds into his dark eyes. “Because I’m thinking about fucking you on the table.” He sets his glass down but doesn’t release it. “Eat your sandwich, Viviana. You’re going to need your strength.”
“For you or for the trials?” I ask, purposely sassing him. It’s a nice distraction from all the information floating through my head.
“Both.” He swirls the contents of his glass, his gaze assessing. “I have no idea what to expect from the trials. It’s never been done this way before. Nor has it ever taken this long for a mortal to be tested.”
“Yes, you said you’ve been hunting for… a millennium.”
He dips his chin. “Most trials happen within a century of a Strigoi assuming the royal title. But I spent my first hundred years restoring order to a broken kingdom. Between my mother’s death and my father’s mind breaking along with his heart, there was a lot of panic and uncertainty.”
Ciprian takes another sip of his wine, his gaze falling to his plate.
“This is a part of my life that I never speak about, Viviana. I’m only trying to ensure you understand why my people may be hard on you.
They’re eager for me to take a queen. No one has ever taken this long to accept a mate.
No one has ever left our world to hunt for one either.
” He looks at me again, his gaze seeming to search mine.
“I’m not afraid,” I tell him.
“I know. Which makes you unique in this world and perfect for mine. Because the humans in my world are not afraid either.” He studies me for a moment.
“Actually, we should discuss this more. I’ve told you how Strigoi protect humans and how humans feed Strigoi.
But I haven’t mentioned the venom exchange yet. ”
The bite I just took seems to stick to my mouth as I stare at him. Venom exchange? I ask via my mind since speaking would be difficult at the moment.
“Strigoi bites have a venom in them that actually makes humans somewhat immortal in my world. So they’re referred to as immortals back home. But they’re not truly immortal, not the way a Strigoi is. They’re just… less breakable. And they live longer.”
I start chewing because I need access to my voice to ask some questions.
But he keeps speaking, telling me how his venom hasn’t reacted that way in humans here, how every person he’s bitten has lived a normal life. “At least, as far as I know,” he adds. “Which did make me wonder for a while if I could even mate one of your kind.”
He continues by saying that his doubts were answered the moment I imbibed his blood because everything inside me has reacted the way it should.
Which means we’re compatible, just as he always suspected.
“It simply seems my venom works a little differently on the humans of my world than on the ones here. But I thought you should be aware of the venom exchange process, as you’re going to hear the term ‘immortals’ in the Strigoi Kingdom, and I didn’t want you to be confused.”
I finished chewing a few minutes ago, but he kept talking, answering inquiries before I could even think them through.
“The blood exchange provides true immortality, though,” he goes on.
“Three exchanges, to be precise. Which is why I can’t give you my blood again.
Not until after the trials.” His eyes meet mine as he adds, “You’ll go into a heat.
The instinct to breed will be too much. And unlike what Marius suggested the other day, I do not intend to cheat the trials. ”
Whoa, I think, holding up a hand. “Okay, hold on. Heat?” I’ll come back to the cheating comment in a moment. “I’m going to experience a… a heat?”
“Yes.” He nudges his untouched plate to the side and leans forward. “And it’s going to push me into a rut.”
“A rut,” I repeat, aware of the term but wondering if I’m understanding it correctly. “Meaning you’re going to… rut me.”
“Absolutely. For days, I hope. But my blood running through your veins will strengthen you enough to survive my hunger. Which is why I wanted you to understand the immortality aspect of our bond. It means you’ll heal from whatever I do to you. So just try to enjoy it. I know I will.”
“Okay, that…” I trail off as a fire ignites inside me.
This should not intrigue me.
And it certainly should not be making me burn all over.
“Ciprian,” I whisper, swallowing. “Let me make sure I… understand. We can’t mate until I survive the trials. Then our mating is going to send me into a heat. You’ll, um, rut me, and I’ll end up pregnant with an heir. Right?”
“Yes.” His expression practically smolders as he looks at me. “I have a thousand years’ worth of pent-up lust for you to handle, pet. Which means we need to work on your stamina.”
My nipples tighten in response to his words. “You did say strength and stamina are part of the trials.”
“They are.”
“So how would you recommend I train?” I voice the question coyly, aware that I’m flirting with a monster. Aware that he looks ready to eat me. Aware that I’m probably insane for choosing any of this.
But I’m just as obsessed with him as he is with me. Perhaps even more so, as I flew all the way here just to hunt him.
It might be fate.
It might be an enchantment of some kind.
Or maybe… maybe this is simply my purpose in life. To become a Strigoi King’s pet. His mate. His queen.
He growls, clearly hearing my thoughts. “Take off that shirt,” he tells me. “Leave it on the chair. And run.”
“Is this a training exercise?” I ask, standing slowly as I begin unbuttoning the shirt. “Something to help me handle the trials?”
“Sure,” he answers vaguely. “We’ll consider it an introduction to a rut. But unlike later, I’m going to be kind and give you a two-minute head start. Feel free to go outside, if you prefer. Hide, too. See if you can outsmart me, regina mea.”
“Technically, I’m not your queen yet,” I say, teasing him a little. Though, admittedly, I really do like that endearment. “Right now, I’m just your pet.” Which I can’t believe I just said after recently explaining to him my feelings on being referred to as such.
However, it feels appropriate for the moment.
And while it’s a little demeaning, I do enjoy the dark affection that seems to underscore his tone when he refers to me as his pet.
“So catch me if you can, my king.” I drop my shirt on the chair and smile as his heated gaze roams over my naked state. “Maybe I’ll even let you fuck me.”
He growls as I turn toward the door. “You won’t let me do anything to you, Ms. Dalca. You’re mine. And I’ll fucking take whatever I want from you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him of my safe word. But I decide to see how this plays out.
Either he’ll respect me.
Or he’ll prove himself to be a monster.
Regardless, this is my fate now. My game to play. My trial.
“Start counting,” I tell him.
And then… I run.