3. Julian #3
Growling, I thrash as I elongate my claws and try to scratch him.
But he holds me just at the right distance from himself, close enough so he can strangle me but far away enough so I can’t even graze him.
It drives me crazy, and not just because it feels like he’s making fun of me.
No, that would be too straightforward and not worth the existential crisis I feel lurking at the corners of my mind.
I withdraw and try to recenter myself, then claw at his hand that’s crushing my neck. It does nothing. I jerk, I sway, I try everything I can think of. Isidoro doesn’t even frown. Fuck. He’s so… so…
So. Fucking. Hot.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate him. I hate him so much.
Why does he have to be so calm and infuriatingly competent?
Why couldn’t he be sleazy and ugly and disgustingly borderline feral from all the indulgences he must give into?
Instead, he’s a supermodel with impeccable hair and teeth and a killer voice.
And don’t get me started on his sexy confidence or the things having his hand around my neck is doing to me.
Fuck me sideways.
My cock twitches, fully agreeing with me. The pressure around my neck is like an aphrodisiac to it, fueling the fierce want inside me. My senses heighten as I shut my eyes and try to calm down, to banish this sudden desire that has no place here.
It only makes it worse. This tornado that’s hit me out of nowhere really wants to get out.
But I fight it, I can’t let it show. Isidoro can’t know that despite how much I hate him, I also find him equally attractive.
It’s fucked up, some brain connection in my head must have been severed when I fought the kidnappers he sent for me.
Besides, if he found out, it would be the end of me.
And the kicker? The icing on the cake? The cherry on top?
My father is dead.
He was murdered a while before the ruby was stolen.
It shouldn’t have been possible, the vampire king is essentially invincible.
The gem ensures that. Its magical power protects its king.
But Andras Corvath was killed and nobody but me knows about it.
I issued a statement in his name, passing all assets and businesses down to myself so no one would suspect anything.
The vampire world isn’t ready for a dead king.
My arousal is suddenly replaced by anger and fury.
None of this would be happening if my father was still alive.
He wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped like I did.
He’s a formidable vampire and he eradicated the Altamirano Clan almost entirely, only leaving a teenager Isidoro alive because he didn’t see him as a threat.
Because my father was too arrogant, then and always, because he wanted a reminder so the other clans wouldn’t oppose him.
Who killed him? How? Why? Where did the body disappear to? I’ve so many questions. I click my teeth, fuming. Isidoro doesn’t know anything. He’ll keep hitting dead ends. With no body and no clues, the P.I. he’s paying isn’t going to find anything.
The truth about my father is the only card I hold, my ace, the only thing that can potentially save me from more misery after Isidoro took everything—clan, assets, even my business.
I mourn that the most. Sanguine & Silk was my life’s work, my only passion.
And he took it from me, just like he took my freedom and sanity.
I’m not na?ve to think there won’t be consequences after tonight. My fate is pretty much sealed, I fear. I can see it in Isidoro’s stunning wine-red eyes, and it was there from the very start, lurking and waiting.
Black spots creep around the edges of my vision.
His intent soaks into every pore of my body.
He will kill me, and I get only one chance to prevent that.
There is no room for mistakes. I have only one move left to play.
I must do this right, or the moment Isidoro knows my father is dead, he will either kill me or, worse, cast me aside in exile, and I will never get closure or reclaim S&S.
He’ll let me stew in the unknowns and I will never find out the truth.
Isidoro’s hold tightens and I choke, more blurriness entering my vision.
Very soon, I will pass out, but even as I feel the darkness creep in, I can’t take my eyes off him.
I hate how gorgeous he is, how self-assured, how capable.
Even if he doesn’t kill me tonight, which I think he very much might, I can’t go back to Mexico.
I will die there and not just because of the scorching sun.
What do I do? What can I even do? If not tonight, I’m a goner after that coronation. I can’t fess up without tangible guarantees that he won’t just get rid of me.
As the image of Isidoro wearing my father’s crown manifests in my mind, a way forward suddenly reveals itself to me, one last crazy idea, the most insane of them all.
I fight it, I try to find a way around it, but it’s the only thing that can guarantee my survival. It’s either genius or it will end me, and part of me, that same part that can’t look away from Isidoro as the last of my consciousness leaves me, is dying to see if I can actually pull it off.