Chapter 6 #2
Water slid down her skin in ribbons. Steam gathered in the air, blurring everything except her. Her hair clung to her shoulders; the line of her back caught the light. Her breasts were the epitome of perfection. Every inch of her burned with life.
For a moment, I could not move. My mind knew to look away, but my body—my cursed, hungry body—refused to obey.
Holy Mary, I thought. What sin have I not already committed, that I should be punished like this?
I tried to summon language. Failed once. Then managed, haltingly, “I heard you fall. You said I could not watch you sleep.” I cleared my throat, forcing my gaze to the cracked tile behind her. “You said nothing about bathing, so I assumed I may enter.”
A bottle of cleaning liquid struck the wall near my head. I retreated two full steps, spine straight, every nerve screaming at me to behave like a man of honor instead of a man undone.
I could still see the steam rising off her skin. Still hear the water pounding in the stall. Still feel my pulse where it didn’t belong.
She was a blood source. A mortal. A complication to remedy. Nothing more.
I shut the door quickly before I forgot that.
After she finished bathing, she made me sit in the living room for a “review session.” Rules, apparently, required reinforcement.
Sticky squares of bright paper covered the wall like a battlefield map. “No biting. No watching me bathe. No surprise lunges.”
I examined one closely, peeling up a corner. The adhesive fascinated me. “Adhesive holds,” I murmured. “Your method is efficient.”
“Cristian,” she said warily, “what are you doing?”
“Learning.” I brought the paper closer to my face in observation.
She narrowed her eyes. “Do not lick the rules.”
“Understood.”
Sighing, she rubbed her temples. Her scent changed when she was tired, became sweeter somehow. I wanted to fix the crease between her brows. I wanted to taste the pulse that lived there.
Instead, I said quietly, “Contact?”
Her gaze flicked up, startled. Then she nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
I remembered her rule—ask first. She’d told me she needed permission and control. Because of the tether, my touch, when chosen, helped her body remember she was safe. The tether could steady her, if she allowed it.
I set two fingers to her wrist. Counted to five. Her pulse thudded beneath my touch, quick but strong. Her shoulders loosened. She let out a small sigh that made my nerves turn to liquid. I withdrew before I embarrassed myself.
“Better?” I asked.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I lowered my hand, then straightened one of her notes on the wall. She smiled faintly, and for one dangerous moment, the hunger went quiet—as if it, too, respected her consent. But as she walked past me in those absurd tiny pantaloons covered in strawberries, it stirred again, low and feral.
I would have traded my kingdom for a goat to drain. Or a prisoner. Or a mid-level aristocrat no one would miss. Instead, I stood there in her hoodie, fists clenched, promising myself I would not break another of her rules.
At least not tonight.
Suddenly, a sound rang through the house—bright, metallic, far too cheerful. I flinched.
Nadia called from the hallway, “That’s just Lena, my best friend! Don’t be weird!”
A useless instruction. I had not yet determined what qualified as normal in this century.
The door swung open, and the new creature entered.
She was radiant and fearsome, wearing tall boots that looked made for war and a patterned pelt with spots like a jungle predator wrapped around her form. Confident stride. Sharp eyes.
“Is she a queen?” I asked quietly. “Where is her crown?”
Only queens wore furs. I started to kneel. Nadia’s voice cut through, sharp and intrusive.
“What? No! Don’t—stand up! That’s just Lena.”
I obeyed, though it felt improper to meet royalty upright.
Lena blinked at me. “Wow. He listens. You already have him trained. Impressive.” Then she held up a bottle of clear liquid. “I brought holy water, just in case.”
Nadia groaned. “That won’t be necessary.”
Lena’s gaze shifted to me, and she inhaled sharply. I braced myself for fear. Instead, I saw admiration.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said to Nadia, circling me like a general inspecting a new recruit. “He’s like if a Renaissance statue started a fight club. He looks like he was carved from marble.”
I bowed stiffly. “I am Lord Cristian D’Archeval of Essex County.”
She grinned, entirely unthreatened. “Cool. I’m Lena of Uber driver to pay RN student loan debt.”
I stared, uncertain how to respond to such a title. “I do not know that house.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Nadia muttered.
Lena winked at me. I stared back. It seemed like a provocation. Or a challenge.
“Is she propositioning me?” I whispered to Nadia.
“No. That’s just how she acts.”
“I see,” I said, though I did not.
She radiated confidence. Brash. Amusing. Not at all fearful. Queen Lena would make an acceptable first meal if she would allow it—but she didn’t smell nearly as intoxicating as Nadia. Nothing did.
Lena planted her hands on her hips. “So, are the fangs real or part of your vampire cosplay?”
I decided to demonstrate. “Would you like to see them?”
Before Nadia could intervene, I bared them.
Lena screamed. Then laughed in delight. “Hot and terrifying. You really hit the jackpot, Nads.”
Nadia turned pink. “He’s not my jackpot.”
I straightened, unsure whether to be insulted or relieved. “I don’t know what half of these modern terms mean, but I am too flustered to ask for clarification.”
Lena grinned. “He’s polite, too. You really need to keep this one.”
Nadia groaned into her hands. “This summer is going to kill me.”
Lena shrugged. “Or spice up your life. Fifty-fifty.”
I stood there, still bewildered, still hungry, still trying to determine why the mortals around me seemed to treat chaos as a form of recreation. But when Nadia met my gaze, her cheeks slightly pink, I felt that inconvenient pulse in my chest again.
And I realized: chaos might suit me.
I retreated to the kitchen for the illusion of control.
It was a hollow exercise.
The hunger was worsening. Every hour in this bright, humming house pressed against my restraint like a blade. Every time Nadia laughed, my fangs ached. Every time she brushed past me, I imagined her shoulder under my mouth, her pulse thrumming as I drank until her eyes went soft and unfocused.
The bond did not help. It hummed beneath my ribs, insistently tethering me to her—demanding proximity, demanding touch, demanding her.
And yet, proximity was its own torture. The closer I stood, the louder the hunger roared.
“Control,” I muttered to myself. “Restraint.”
I gripped the edge of the counter. The marble cracked beneath my hand.
So much for restraint.
The sound of voices broke my futile attempts at concentration.
The women entered the kitchen—my tormentor and her queenly companion.
Nadia fussed over a plant on the windowsill, humming off-key.
It was a sound wholly unmusical and yet somehow exquisite.
I felt something unfamiliar stir in my chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with blood.
Lena picked up one of Nadia’s notes from the refrigerator. “What’s with all these sticky squares?”
“Therapy homework,” Nadia said as she opened a bottle of wine. “I’m working on setting boundaries.”
Lena rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. The asshole teacher drama. You know, I still think a few threats and a nice nipple twist from your best friend would fix that.”
Nadia groaned. “That will not be necessary.”
I pretended not to listen, though every word registered. Asshole teachers. Boundaries. It sounded like her own kind had mistreated her. The thought ignited something protective in me.
Lena turned to me, eyes alight with mischief. “So, vampire boy, what’s your body count?”
I frowned. “I do not relish the thought of murder. I have only taken lives in battle.”
Lena’s mouth opened and closed. “No, no, I meant—how many women have you…” She turned to Nadia. “What’s a better word for fucked when you’re talking to someone from the sixteen-hundreds?”
Nadia looked utterly distraught. “Copulated? Fornicated?”
My throat went dry. “But you said body count—”
Lena cackled. “I was asking how many women you’ve fornicated with.”
I straightened my spine. “I am a gentleman. Such things are not discussed in the company of women.”
Lena scoffed. “Oh, things have changed, grandpa. Women love talking about sex now. It’s self-care.”
I hesitated, unsure whether that was progress or collapse.
Still, her question lingered. Against my better judgment, I began to count in my head.
There were lovers, yes—faces long gone to dust. Desire had been as transactional as power once, but that’s all they were.
Fornication partners. Perhaps “body count” was the correct assessment.
Before I could finish tallying, Lena held up a hand.
“Okay, we get it. You know your way around a woman’s body.” She smirked. “Am I right?”
I blinked, genuinely uncertain whether I was meant to answer.
Lena leaned in conspiratorially. “Nadia could use a few orgasms, if you’d like to oblige.”
Nadia choked. “Lena! Oh my god, are you serious?”
Lena only grinned. “Just saying. Tension’s tension.”
Nadia smacked her arm. “We’re going to watch a movie. Please excuse us.”
She crossed the room, brushing past me. Her scent hit me like a slap in the face. I leaned in before I could stop myself, breathing her in.
“Why do you smell so… delectable?” I wondered aloud.
She threw a slipper at my head. “Don’t stalk me. You’re literally lurking!”
“I was… existing,” I said, but she was already gone.
I was left alone with the echo of their laughter and the gnawing emptiness in my throat.
A half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter. Just one bite missing. Did she forget it? How could someone so attuned to everything forget to feed herself?
I wished I could forget my own hunger.
I stared at the abandoned sandwich, the warmth long faded from it. I threw it away. The waste offended me.
Opening the cold box—the refrigerator, as she called it—I found something resembling food. I studied the small metal machine that heated things instantly, pressed a few buttons, and was rewarded with an alarming buzz. I decided not to risk immolation.
Instead, I placed the cold plate before the women in the living room without a word. Neither noticed. Then I retreated to the guest room.
The house grew quiet as night deepened. Lena’s laughter eventually faded, followed by the sound of the front door closing. Nadia’s steps crossed the hall. A door shut.
Her room.
I stood outside it far longer than reason allowed, listening. The steady rhythm of her breathing filtered through the wood. So human. So alive. It soothed and tormented me in equal measure.
Sleep was unnecessary. I had done enough of that.
The hunger pulsed through me like a curse.
If I bite her, I will ruin everything.
If I do not bite her, I will lose myself.
The choice felt impossible, and yet it would come soon.
I looked toward her closed door and said quietly to the dark, “She has no idea what she has awakened.”
I exhaled. The hunger coiled tighter, hotter.
“Neither,” I admitted, “do I.”