Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I did not expect the feeling that washes over me—the longing I have for my curvy little human.
I have known hunger. I have known obsession. I have known the ache of the Blood Lust gnawing at my bones, driving my thoughts into dark, desperate channels. I have known what it is to crave a woman for what she could give me—her blood, her magic, her power.
But this…this hollow pull in my chest has nothing to do with thirst.
Julia’s blood still sings quietly in my veins, rich and warm and deeply nourishing. The Sanguis Vita hums through my system, steady and controlled, easing the worst of the ancient curse my father left me. My hands do not shake. My fangs do not ache. My hunger is sated—for now.
Yet I miss her.
I miss her smile, quick and crooked, as though she does not quite trust happiness but reaches for it anyway. I miss her laugh—soft at first, then unguarded, filling a room before she realizes she has given herself away.
I miss the way her eyes light up when she is curious and narrow when she’s angry or indignant on behalf of someone she cares about.
Gods help me—I even miss the sound of her voice already.
I tell myself she is safe. The driver of that carriage is no mere coachman—he is Caelen Virex, once of the Fae Courts—an assassin whose name was spoken in whispers long before he bent the knee to me. He has killed kings and vanished from blood-soaked halls without leaving so much as a footprint behind. He guards me and my territory with a precision that borders on obsession.
If harm comes to Julia under his watch, it will not be for lack of vigilance.
So I know she’s safe. And yet…
I curl my hands into fists at my sides. I would rather be there myself.
I would rather watch her face as the orchards unfold before her, see her eyes widen at the crimson fruit hanging heavy on the boughs. I would rather hear her laugh as the sommelier drones on about vintages and soil composition. I would rather stand close enough to scent her warmth, to know—without doubt—that she is safe.
Instead, duty calls, as it always does.
Reluctantly, I turn away from the gates and reenter the Crimson Spires. The doors close behind me with a heavy finality, sealing away the last trace of daylight. Shadows stretch long across the marble floors, and the familiar chill of my domain settles around me like a cloak.
I should be planning for my upcoming meeting. I should be considering contingencies and leverage points, weaknesses and advantages of my opponent.
Instead, my thoughts circle back—again and again—to Julia.
She is changing me.
The realization strikes me with uncomfortable clarity.
When I first began scouting the Human Realm, I was focused on one thing alone—survival. The Sanguis Vita is rare and elusive—the only thing capable of quieting the Blood Lust that threatened to consume me. Finding the right Curvy Queen was a means to an end—she would be precious, yes, but still just a resource.
Then I saw Julia in the Crimson Eye…and everything shifted.
Julia is not what I expected. She is not meek or dazzled by power. She does not bow or simper. She challenges me, questions me—she even fled from me—and yet, when she returned, it was with fire in her eyes and steel in her spine.
She does not submit easily, and Gods help me—I do not want her to.
I want her to choose me.
That desire coils deep in my chest, dangerous and intoxicating. I have become addicted to her blood now—my body will crave it…depend upon it. If she was taken from me for too long, the consequences would be…dire.
And yet I would give up everything—power, safety, even my immortality—before I would cage her against her will.
I reach my study at last, but I do not sit. Instead, I pace before the tall windows, hands clasped behind my back, forcing my thoughts toward the business at hand.
I have a meeting with the leader of the Ashen Hoard and the Dragon Don, who rules it, waits for no one.
His name is Drathryn Vaelkor, and he is as ancient as the mountains his people hollowed out for gold. He is cunning, ruthless, and endlessly acquisitive. Where other Dons rule through fear or pleasure or death, Vaelkor rules through ownership. He hoards wealth, secrets, artifacts—and grudges—with equal fervor.
Negotiating with him is like dancing on the edge of a blade—he will smile as he bleeds you dry.
The coming meeting cannot be delayed. Tensions between the Hoard and my own territory have been simmering for too long, and Vaelkor has a habit of mistaking patience for fear. If I do not meet him now, he will take it as a sign of weakness—an invitation to test my borders. I cannot put off this meeting.