(SOLAN)
Vampires don't have fated mates.
In fact, most people don't think that vampires even have souls. I'm not sure what I think of that since I was born a vampire. It's not as if I were once a person who was killed by a vampire and my soul was released to hell or where-have-you, and now I am something else. No, I have always been a vampire, so if I am a soulless, earthbound creature, then so be it.
Right now, I think there is something deep inside of me that is driving me toward Ina Tanner, though, and I have no idea what it is—but it is persistent.
Back in my room, after I nearly took her on her first night in the castle, I am lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to determine what to do about it.
It's not true that vampires don't sleep. We do. I do, anyway. Perhaps there are some that don't need to, but on average, I need at least five hours of sleep each night to function. Otherwise, I am a monster the next day— literally.
The other rumours about vampires, that they have high sex drives and are into all sorts of kinky things in the bedroom, are true to different levels. I believe I fall somewhere above average, but am nothing like my brother or Lysandra.
The thought makes me wonder if my brother is fucking my fiancée.
He pretends to hate her whenever she's not around, but still seeks her out. He escorts her to dinner every night, along with her brother, who is into anything and everything in the bedroom…. I wouldn't be surprised if Theo isn't fucking Lysandra.
Tossing an arm across my forehead, I wonder why I care and decide it is only because I don't like the idea that they are doing something so intimate behind my back.
People who will screw each other behind your back are more likely to throw daggers when you're not looking as well, and while my brother can say it doesn't matter to him that he'll never rule, I know that he actually does care.
He does have designs to be king. If he could get Lysandra pregnant before me, he would at least solidify his own child's place on the throne, assuming I never find anyone else to bear me children.
It's all too much to think about, so I don't.
Nor do I want to think about that bastard Clark….
Putting him on house arrest doesn't seem like enough. I should've ripped his fucking head off. Especially after his response to, "Why did you take her to the feeders' dungeon?" was, "Well, she's just another fucking bitch feeder. Who the hell cares what happens to her?" I had smacked him across the face hard enough to draw blood.
Vampires must be struck very hard to draw blood. Now, I had his mess downstairs to clean up and his problematic ass to deal with.
Really, it had been a shitty day. Except for Ina herself.
I shift on the bed again, my hand trailing down my bare chest as I think about her, settling my palm just north of the V beneath my boxers. The scent of roses fills my mind; not the ones from the flower garden where Lysandra was throwing her fit, but rosewater… and lavender.
Ina smelled divine, and the way she looked in that dress…. It was no wonder Brennan couldn't keep his hands off her.
She was gorgeous, and she had absolutely no idea what she did to every male who looked in her direction. The way she'd handled herself in that prison was impressive, too. I never want to make her mad enough to grab my balls—not like that anyway.
But I had wanted her to touch me, and I knew she wanted me to touch her, too….
I can't explain what this magnetism is. Why do I ache for her now? The moment is gone. Normally, if I decided not to take a woman in such a moment, it would fade from my mind and become background noise until it dissipated altogether.
But now, I find myself replaying those moments with Ina over and over again. The thump of her heart, the feel of her skin, the way her hand felt on mine, her cheek pressed to my face, her fingers streaming through my hair.
It's all I can do to keep my hand still as I harden beneath the sheets.
I know I've done the right thing in walking away from her. She is emotional and exhausted. Her entire world has been torn apart, and it will take some time for it to be put back together. I may own her, but only as a feeder.
She is not my whore. I can't make her feel obligated to service me in that way, and I know, if I try to feed off of her, I will not be able to control myself. The rush of placing my lips on her body will drive me toward an unbridled lust I will not be able to control.
I can't fight my body anymore. With an image of her beautiful face in my mind, my hand dips below my waistband, and I thrust into my palm, thinking of how exquisite it would feel if it were her hand or her mouth on my body.
When I hit my release, it comes hard, but I can only imagine that if I were actually with her, instead of all alone, it would be earth-shattering.
Satisfied and exhausted, I clean up and then roll over, determined to sleep. My hope is that the morning will bring new clarity to all of us, and she can figure out where she belongs in this new life.
She is the daughter of my enemy, likely has her own fated mate back home, and I am engaged to a she-demon.
Wherever her place is, it's likely best if it isn't in my arms. But one thing about vampires that is usually true is that we are selfish creatures who have trouble with impulsivity.
And right now, all of my impulses are telling me I need that woman in my mouth and in my bed.