Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Tragically, Charlotte is alive and well on the opening night of the play.
All right, it isn’t that sad, but I’m still sour about my minuscule part in it all.
My three lines are done after the first act, and I’m left on the sidelines while Charlotte and Jun blow the audience away.
I would even say it’s Jun’s best performance yet.
How did he practice so much when he was busy sneaking into the Order with me?
There’s a good reason Jun is the one I enjoy competing with. He’s an inspiration, and knowing I may be the same for him is all the flattery I need to keep my acting career moving.
Charlotte is wonderful, too, and their onstage chemistry is undeniable.
No one can blame me for the nagging, twisting feeling in my guts. It’s been there all along. For some time, I ruled it off as envy of the part. Charlotte is doing what I want to do, and she’s doing it to perfection.
But I envy her for another reason, too, and it hits me when she and Jun share their kiss. The kiss is nothing, a fleeting embrace for the stage, but it’s as if someone jabs a stake into my frigid heart.
I inhale harshly as I fight the monster springing to life in my chest. The surges of hatred and envy don’t leave until the play is over, and I can’t blame my small part for my lack of energy as I bow with the rest of the crew.
It’s something else. I’ve never been a jealous person, but now I am. It’s not as if I have a right to be. Jun isn’t mine, and I am certainly not his. I know better than to be jealous of something that happens on stage.
We’re actors. Professionals.
There is something severely wrong with me, and I don’t know what it is. I can’t find a word for it. I storm from the stage, desperate to leave.
Jun touches my elbow before I can escape, and I know it’s him by the warmth, even before I see his face.
I turn on my heel to look him in the eye, and…
He’s smiling. It’s a big, blown-out smile. Of course, he’s happy—he should be. He performed beautifully, and important professionals were here to see it. I try to smile back, but I’m afraid it doesn’t meet my eyes.
Oh, Jun is painfully beautiful, isn’t he? Frustrating, handsome, and… infuriating. His dark hair contrasts against his cool skin, and his eyes—I swear, they’re lit up, and it’s not for me. He’s buzzing and glowing from a job well done. For once, I won’t be the one to ruin his good mood.
“You delivered your three lines perfectly,” he says.
He’s teasing, but it can’t get past my armor, not eliciting the same anger it usually would.
“Thank you. Your performance was perfect too—but I don’t need to tell you. Professor Connolly will. Everyone will. Charlotte definitely will.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “God, you’re so jealous.”
How does he know?
“I’m not.” My voice goes higher, and my eyes widen. “As if you can read my mind? Please. I’m over it. The next play will come, and I’ll get a better part than either of you.”
“Right. Then what’s the problem?”
“Who said there’s a problem?”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“You know what?” I say. “There is a problem. You and Charlotte could have kissed better. That’s my complaint. Everything else was show-stopping, but the kiss was juvenile and passionless.”
“Is that your only critique? Really?” A smirk twists on his lips. “This may be the first time you aren’t tearing into my whole performance.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll consider your input for tomorrow’s show, then. We’ll make it a good kiss, just for you.”
My stomach flips. “Good. You’d better. I want to see you kiss her as if your life depends on it.”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I knew you were jealous, but I didn’t think it would be about the kiss.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re fucking adorable.”
My brain stops working. For a moment, all I can do is blink. “I beg your pardon?”
“Is that all you want to beg for?”
My eyes widen. “Jun-seong Park, I don’t know what has gotten into y—”
“You don’t have to beg for a kiss, princess. I’ll give you one right now, in front of everyone. Just say the word.”
We’ve already done more than kiss, by vampire and human standards. I’ve already felt him pressed against me. It doesn’t keep the butterflies, the harshness of my breath, and the embarrassed warmth from creeping up my cheeks.
He thinks he’s one-upping me, and I can’t allow that.
I grab the back of his neck and pull him in. I want Charlotte to see—I want everyone to. I don’t realize how bad I need it until our lips touch.
The urge to let the world know he’s mine is possessive—hell, it’s feral. The unknown beast of envy roars to life inside me, and I must feed it. He seems intent on feeding it as well.
Jun grips my waist hard, and when I pull him in, there’s no resistance. Our mouths touch, lips meeting firmly, and our eyes close. His touch moves to the small of my back, pulling me against him.
Warmth envelops me… and then it’s more than warm; it’s hot, a fire I long to dance in. It melts me to my core. My thighs squeeze together as he presses me harshly against the nearest wall.
It’s a performance, and ours is a thousand times better than whatever he did with Charlotte. When my lips part, a soft request, he answers by pushing his tongue into my mouth. I know where I am, and I know the others may be watching, but I don’t care.
He’s tasting me the way I already have with him, and he still tastes like cinnamon and fire.
Euphoria rushes to his head, and tension coils in the pit of his stomach.
No, the tension doesn’t come from me, not solely—it’s his.
What does it mean that I can still feel what he’s feeling, even though I haven’t fed from him in days?
When we part, I let out a soft sigh.
“Is that how you want me to kiss her next time, princess?” He pulls back to fix me with a serious look.
I glare. “Don’t you dare.”
“That’s what I thought.”
His heat dies down, and I come back to my senses. Everyone is watching, curious and judgmental in equal measure. I could nearly blush.
“What’s wrong?” His words are a taunt, and there is a challenge behind his smile. “Don’t be all bashful now. You started this.”
My eyes narrow. Frustration and desire dance together. At least the frustration is something I understand. The desire is novel and impossible to tame.
I clutch his wrist, dragging him away without another word. His laughter follows us as we go, and the dragging gaze of our peers does, too.
“Where are you taking me?” he asks.
“Somewhere we can talk in private.”
But we have no intention of talking, do we?
We duck into the first classroom we find, and without locking the door, our mouths clash. No words can come through as we taste and touch. He slams me against yet another wall, and his thigh slides between my legs, pushing against my heat.
“Is this how we talk now?” I mumble into his mouth, my hands moving to the waistband of his pants. My fingers slide into his belt loops, and I pull him in tighter.
He lets out a longing sigh and pulls back, his eyes flashing red as they meet mine. “We should have talked this way all along.”
Pleasure thrums through me. Desire has awakened in us both, and I can feel it in the invisible cord connecting us.
I don’t voice it, but silently, I agree. If we had spent more time like this, perhaps we wouldn’t have spent so long dancing on each other’s nerves.
Would the tension between us still be so thick? Would I be able to hear his ragged breath and see the rise of his chest? Or would the connection we have passed us by? Perhaps the cliché of everything happening for a reason is true.
I lean in again, pressing my lips to the soft skin of his neck, and his pulse thumps under my touch.
Calloused fingers slip under my dress, grasping my backside, and I push down his pants. When my fingers graze against his forming bulge, he groans. My fangs throb, a second desire awakening, but I stay gentle as I suck and lick his neck.
Beneath my touch, his pulse jumps, waiting for more. I don’t give it.
He lifts me, surprisingly strong, and sets me on the nearest desk.
When I pull away to look him in the eye, his irises are crimson, his lids heavy. He is the picture of lust. I need to devour him in any way he’ll allow.
“Take what you need,” he says.
My teeth latch onto his neck, and I’m afraid I’m getting used to the sensations: his heated scent, the warmth beneath me, and the beat of his pulse. It’s as if his body is pleading for me, begging me to drink from him, and I can’t deny the urge.
My longing is more than hunger or thirst—it’s a desire to feel our connection again. To strengthen it. To revel in it.
He knows what to expect this time, and he accepts the pleasure, driving his hard bulge against my needy core as growls emit from him. Layers of fabric keep us apart, but I’m wet underneath the teasing touch. His warm taste fills me with need.
Through our bond, I feel his desperation, too, and it spurs me on. My fingers finally dip under the waistband of his boxers, taking him in my hand. He’s hard under my touch, but I’m gentle as I stroke him. With a growl, he lowers his boxers, making his urgency apparent.
Once I’ve had my fill, I swipe my tongue over the wound, healing him. I finally pull away, and the hunger in his eyes bores into me.
His hands grip the side of the desk, hard enough that his knuckles are white, and the way he eyes me. I’m drinking from him, but he is not the prey some would think he is. When did his horns return? His wings, his claws? He’s a demon towering above me, strong and full of unimaginable lust.
Finally, he allows himself to touch me, hot enough to burn.
His fingers graze against the side of my neck, and I inhale, my lips parting.
Jun’s crimson eyes drag over me, drinking up my ample form.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his free hand takes mine.
With my hand in his, he pins it to my side, keeping me in place.
“You fed,” he mutters. “Now, it’s my turn.”
“Then take your fill.”