Page 73 of Fated to the Vampire Prince
CLAIRE
For a long while, I sat in my bed, staring at the door, absently toying with the little red gem, wondering what it meant to be fated to a vampire.
A vampire I was supposed to be spying on. One that I had committed to killing.
One question rose above the chaos churning inside me: Did he actually care about me, or was this all about keeping me quiet? Maybe none of it was real, but simplyinstinct. A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that he’d saved my life—breathing air back into my lungs when I was already dead. I felt his fear. He’d been scared to lose me. If he wanted to keep me quiet, he could’ve let me die.
I touched my lips, recalling the way he touched me. The way he kissed me. The way he looked at me. The things he said.
“Claire, you are fire.”
Sadness and confusion mingled with my anger, and I twisted in the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position despite how luxurious the bed was.
In a moon’s turn, he’d done more for me than my familyever had, showing me kindness when cruelty would’ve been easier. He wasn’t perfect, but I understood why he’d been so conflicted. Only… it didn’t change anything. Even if he cared, and this wasn’t all just a way to keep me quiet, I still had to help Sera. If I didn’t follow Mama’s orders—if I never found the location of a single relic besides the one at Shreesa’s place—what would happen to her? She’d be forced to go into the homes of Dark Witches, hunting for relics to smash without a map. The weight of that secret pierced me harder than the choker ever had.
I brushed the scratchy black lace at my throat, my stomach turning. If I could only tell him the truth, he could help her. But Mama had ensured I could never break my silence. Thisthingwasn’t just a necklace, but a muzzle. There was no way to tell Bastien the truth without it killing me.
So where did that leave me? Caught between wanting to help Sera, needing to continue my espionage in order to stay alive, and the unending pull toward the man at the center of it all.
I waited for him to return, staring at the bedroom door. Waited for an explanation or a revelation that would help me make sense of these warring emotions. I stayed up, thinking about everything, until the sky turned into the bruised purple of dawn. Eventually, I lapsed into a light sleep, peppered with dreams of him that ended the moment the sun rose over the snow-covered mountains, sending delicate pink light into my room. I awoke, tired and weary, but some small part of me was excited to find Bastien sitting beside my bed, reading a book like he’d often done on our voyage to Château Rose.
But he wasn’t here.
I fell back against the pillow and stared at the bed canopy. I told myself it didn’t matter if I was alone. I was used to it. Infact, I was always alone, even around my family.A ghost in every sense of the word.
I clutched the bridge of my nose as the sudden urge to cry came over me. What was the point of questioning my life—my family, my identity—if the only thing that would change was that I’d inherit a bigger house to haunt?
An emptiness settled over me, hollowing out the pit of my stomach.Thiswas what it meant formeto be mated to a vampire. Yes, he had pretty words. And yes, he gave me this necklace. But there was nothing else. I’d be here for him when he needed me, and when he didn’t, I’d be alone. And when the year was over, I’d be sent back to my family.
I allowed myself to give in to the tears, sobbing over everything that I’d lost, everything that had changed, and everything that remainedexactlythe same.
I missed Sera. I missed knowing who I was.
When my pillow was wet and my throat was sore, I knew I needed to get out of bed and do something to take my mind off the sadness. I couldn’t collapse in on myself. But what? What did I have to do besides sink into the mattress and wait for breakfast?
A wave of sadness hit me again, and I curled into the sheets. I could just stay here and read. There were plenty of books to keep me company. I drew in a deep breath. Or, I could continue to face myself and the beliefs I was raised with. I might not be able to tell Bastien the truth about who I was, but I could learn more about the war Mama was always fighting. I just needed toget up.
When I was at home, and a depression settled over me, I leaned on my routine. First, I’d get ready for the day and then tend to the ravens and the garden. I needed to find a schedule here as well. I eyed the large claw foot tub and decided to take a bath.
After soaking in the soapy water until the warm water ran cold, I lotioned my skin, then found a brush inside the ornate vanity beside the tub and combed out my long silver lilac hair. While I did, an attendant cleaned up the bath, then left a hot curling rod on a tray beside my vanity. I took it as a sign she thought I should do something more with my hair than leave it an unbound mess. But, I’d never done anything more with my hair then put it in a simply braid.
I looked at myself in the vanity mirror, andby Diana, I looked like hell. My eyes shadowed with dark circles and rimmed red from tears. My gaze shifted away from my face, not wanting to stare at every imperfection, and I found myself drawn again to the little red bloodstone Bastien had given me. The one that marked me as his mate.
I brushed my thumb over it, remembering that all I’d need to do was say his name, and he’d come back to me. One whisper, and I wouldn’t be alone. He could stave off these thoughts with his hands and his mouth and his teeth. But, he was the Duke of Roselyn, and he had other, more important things to tend to than me. Meetings to take and people to glare at.
But did I really care if I bothered him? He called on me whenever he liked. Barging into my room and ordering everyone to leave. Staring at my body like he wanted nothing more than to devour me. Kissing me. Touching me. Unraveling me like a spool of thread. Making me feel desired and feminine. Begging me to make him leave because he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.
My thoughts returned to last night. To the way he’d almost made love to me. The prickle of desire was back, throbbing between my thighs. My body longing for him to take this emotional pain away and make me feel desired. My lips parted. My breath becoming heavier.
All I needed to do was say his name, and he could make me forget everything else with one touch.
Thoughts of his smooth tongue gliding over my heated skin and his thick length stirred my need. Opening my thighs, my fingers drifted down my abdomen until I found that same sensitive place he kissed. The place he’d encouraged me to touch the night I found him alone in the tent. I recalled that encounter now. How seeing him like that had awoken something dark and needy inside me.
“Claire,have you evertouched yourself?”
I rocked into my own touch, moving back and forth, circling, just as he’d showed me, until heat crested inside me. I dared to sink one finger inside my heat, gasping when I did, then moaning as I dragged it in and out.
It felt so good. But I didn’t stop. I knew I could feel more than this. My nipples peaked, tightening into hard points as heat continued to course through me. If a finger felt this good, I could only imagine how goodhewould feel. The hard length of him stroking inside me. Just the press of him against me last night had been world-shattering.
