Page 62 of The Prince's Curse

“Tante Mina,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“It means Aunt,” she said.

At that, he chuckled and said, “I know. I was born in Germany. The fact that she called herself your aunt…it seems like a sick joke. But I understand your relationship with her is complicated.”

She realized that she had turned a page with regard to Julian Alcott. There was the version of him that Mina had painted for her, and the version she had met, and they were two entirely different men. He was capable, strong and protective, but there was a deep sadness that hung over him like a heavy mantle. It reminded her of Kova, who had a handsome face and a nice smile that never lit up his eyes.

Her throat clamped tight, and she fiddled with the corner of her towel. “Tell me the truth about the Auberon. And your new court.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Armina said you were evil. That you killed innocent people just for the fun of it, and that you were kidnapping humans here to feed on,” she said.

His green eyes went red as he shook his head, betraying his anger. “Not a bit of that is true. If anything, we’re probably the most boring, uptight vampire court in existence,” he said with a bitter laugh. “At least by vampire standards.”

“How so?”

“Ever since Eduardo Alazan became our Elder, the Auberon had rules about limiting our kills. For him it wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to protect humans, but he thought it was wasteful and needlessly messy. I won’t lie to you and say that we—that I—have never killed a human. I killed my fair share of vampire hunters, but I’ve never killed someone just for fun, and with the exception of when we’ve gone to war, I’ve never fed on someone who didn’t consent,” he said.

“That’s not the way the Shieldsmen tell it. They say that you were all monsters,” she said.

“Of course they say that,” he scoffed. “Doesn’t it make it easier to hunt us down? If you have to wonder about our morals and consider a thousand shades of nuance, it’s much harder to send impressionable young men and women out to die for the cause. Because some vampires are monsters, they paint us all that way. By their reasoning, I should kill all humans, who are capable of just as much evil.”

Her throat tightened. “Yeah.”

“We even tried to make peace with them,” Julian said. “They knew that we had strict rules about not killing humans. We had our own circle of veravin even then, so we weren’t feeding on anyone who didn’t consent. It didn’t matter. We eventually gave up on peace, but it was only because the Shieldsmen spat in our faces again and again.”

“So you hunted them down,” she said. She hadn’t meant to make it an accusation, but a cold cast shifted across his handsome face.

With a shrug, he said, “They were hunting us in the streets, attacking our homes in broad daylight, luring us into traps… I hate bloodshed and war, but at some point you have to defend yourself. And in doing so, the Shieldsmen dug further into their beliefs. We struck back and proved that we were bloodthirsty monsters. There was no winning solution, only two bad ones.Ironically, your witch’s pet, Carrigan Shea, is the one whose people were kidnapping humans and taking them to a blood farm. He turned Kristina Arensberg into a vampire against her will and made her drink. And it seems as though Armina was playing him from behind the scenes with her apprentice.”

Scarlett’s stomach churned at the realization. “I don’t know what to think of her anymore. I hear your stories, and I can believe that it’s true. But she’s also the person who taught me to read and ate breakfast with me every day and…” Her eyes welled over. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for your emotions,” he said, brushing his hand over hers. Lightning sparked up her arm, and her chest filled with warmth from that tiny touch. She lifted her eyes to meet his and found his gaze ruby-red and full of hunger.

Not hunger.

Desire.

His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated, spreading rich midnight black against the silken crimson of his irises. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, his voice rough. His fingers inched toward hers, inch by inch.

She shook her head silently. “I don’t know what I want.”

A faint smile.

“Is that entirely true?” His throat worked again, and then he said, “Tell me what you want from me. Tell me to leave, or tell me whatever you want. It’s daylight, and the rest of our world is asleep.”

She should tell him to leave. Politely, but firmly. Get out and take all those confusing ideas and tantalizing scents with you while you’re at it, she thought. But all she could think of was his hands, the way they skimmed over her skin in her dreams.

Her voice wavered as she said, “I want you to touch me.”

His eyes widened, and he slowly slid his hand over hers, tracing her fingers, outlining the veins that branched across bone. Shivers ran down her spine at the light touch, and then his hand slid up. Over her forearm, his long fingers nearly wrapping around, up the back of her arm to a curiously sensitive spot, over her shoulder. It didn’t frighten her, and she wondered if there was something of that euphoric vampire venom in his touch, making her calm and relaxed instead of frightened.

“Is this all right?” he asked roughly. She nodded. One finger grazed her collarbone, so close to the curve of her breast. Then the other, pausing to touch the bullet wound before teasing away to her throat. She swallowed hard as he gently touched her, but instead of grabbing on to bite, he gently tilted up her chin, hand curled under her jaw. “Scarlett?”

“Hm?”

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Do you know that? Did anyone tell you that in all those years of training to hunt?”

---