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THE HEIR TO THE KING
“I don’t actually have to speak the words, like most vampires. I don’t need eye contact. I just simply have to think it, and your body will do whatever I want. And right now, I’m commanding it to come.”
I can’t seem to get that night—and those words—out of my head. I’ve written two whole paragraphs in the days since the encounter, and my deadline is looming closer and closer. I haven’t left my apartment once, I’ve kept all the windows closed and locked, and I’ve been tiptoeing around the place like there’s a sleeping baby in the other room…or a super-hearing enabled vampire next door.
Honestly, I don’t know how to feel about what happened. Am I scared of how much power Jesse has over my body with nothing but his mind? Absolutely. It’s terrifying.
But was it the best orgasm of my life? Definitely. Do I want it to happen again?
My brain shuts down as it has every time I’ve tried to consider that possibility. Jesse heard the noises I was making. The heavy breathing. The quiet whisper of his name. He popped in, uninvited, and made something happen within me that I couldn’t explain if I tried. He unlocked a beast, and it’s tearing up my insides, trying to break free and be unleashed again.
Yes, I want to come like that again. But I don’t want him to just make me explode with his mind. I want to touch his skin. To feel his strength as he holds me. To feel his cock push inside—
I cut off the thought, shaking my head. It’s crazy. I’m crazy. I can’t get intimate like that with a vampire. It’s…crazy.
And apparently, my vocabulary has shrunk right along with my sense of self-preservation.
Because when it boils down to it, I can’t forget what Jesse said about a vampire’s bite and how it makes a human come harder than they’ve ever experienced. I lost every one of my faculties the other night, and he didn’t even touch me, much less bite me.
And I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like if he did.
A murmur of voices out in the hall has my spine snapping straight. I hold my breath as knuckles rap against wood—not on my door, but the one next door. Jesse’s apartment.
“Mr. Lee, please. We need to speak to you. It’s urgent.”
The deep-spoken words carry a slight accent I can’t seem to place. I push myself up from the couch and tiptoe forward, intent on eavesdropping through my door. I’ve barely made it two steps when two iron-hard arms curl around me from behind, jerking me back against a brick wall of a chest.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out.
“It’s me.” My body relaxes for a half-second before tensing back up again. “Sorry, Eden. I’m going to release you, but you cannot make a sound until they leave. Please.”
I can barely make out the words, he’s whispering so softly. Something inside me loosens, and I realize that by “release you,” he meant releasing my ability to speak, not his physical hold on me. I hold my tongue and pull away, and his arms release me instantly. I spin around to face him, and he’s pressing a finger to his lips as his eyes bore into my front door.
After several beats, he relaxes and drops his arms to his sides.
“They’re gone.”
“Who is they?” I ask, then switch gears. “And how the hell did you get in here?”
“Bedroom window,” he says, jerking his head toward my room.
“It’s locked,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
He huffs a sigh and shrugs. “I’ll buy you a new lock and install it, myself.”
“You broke it?” I ask incredulously.
I know I’m being ridiculous, but focusing on the busted lock and his act of breaking and entering is much easier than dealing with the fact that he’s here, in my apartment, just seconds after I was daydreaming about…
“I had to make sure you didn’t bring attention to yourself. I can’t have you caught in the crossfire.”
I move back over to the couch and sit down. Pressing my fingertips into my temples, I squeeze my eyes against the ache building there. The couch dips beside me, and I look over to see Jesse perched on the edge.
“You’re not in any danger, Eden,” he says softly. “Those men work for my father, and they’re just doing his bidding…trying to convince me to come home.”
“Your father?” I ask, some of the tension draining out of me.
Jesse nods. “The one who turned me. My sire.”
