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“I saw you last night, Father. Don’t you remember?” Jesse asks gently, his free hand moving to clasp his father’s frail one upon the mattress.
“Ah…yes,” Franklin sighs. “I do…remember…now.”
“Father, allow me to introduce you to Eden Walsh. Eden, this is my father, Franklin Belloy.”
Slowly, the king’s head turns in my direction. His eyes are milky, yet somehow still piercing as his gaze travels down my body and back up again.
“Thank you, child, but I’m not hungry,” he says, meeting Jesse’s gaze.
“You misunderstand,” Jesse says, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles. “Eden is my mate.”
The word “mate” startles me, and my eyes shoot to Jesse, who keeps his gaze locked with his father’s. His use of the word implies permanence, and though we’ve declared our feelings for each other, we haven’t discussed where this thing between us will lead.
My head is spinning with wild, unfiltered images of myself growing old and gray with a still-young Jesse by my side. My frail body will wither and weaken while he remains forever in this twenty-five-year-old form.
“So, you plan to turn her, then?” Franklin asks, his words effectively ending my spiraling thoughts and pulling a violent gasp from me.
“We’ve made no such plans,” Jesse says, his tone dark.
“And what of your duty?” Jasmine spits, anger evident in her voice. “You plan to coddle this human and parade her around the kingdom like some princess on a pedestal? It’s an insult to all the more suitable vampire mates waiting for you to take your place as king.”
“And are you one of those more suitable vampires, Jasmine?” Jesse sneers, making me gasp again.
I know she’s not really his sister in a biological sense, but knowing it doesn’t quell the ick-factor. And that doesn’t even take into account the fact that she looks like a child. Even knowing she’s much older than she appears, I can’t stop the shiver of revulsion that tiptoes over my skin.
“You should be so lucky,” she snipes, and the king lifts his hand from the bed to silence her.
“My children…do not fight. You must join together to protect our legacy,” he says slowly, his voice a mere whisper.
“You shall protect it, yourself,” Jesse says. “I will find the witch who did this to you and make them reverse the spell. You’re going to be fine.”
“My boy,” Franklin says, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I know you shall try.”
“I shall succeed.”
“I know, my boy. I know. Leave me with your sister. We have things to discuss.”
My gaze lands on Jasmine, the dim light highlighting the anger and revulsion in her expression. But when Franklin turns his head to look at her, the ugliness disappears, replaced by a serene, somewhat indulgent smile.
Without another word, Jesse leads me from the room. As soon as the door closes behind us, I open my mouth to let a multitude of questions pour out. Jesse’s hand covers my lips before I utter a single syllable, and he mouths, “Vampire hearing.” I nod, and he gives me a small smile before pulling his hand away and leading me toward the staircase.
Once back in his bedroom, he closes and locks the door before holding a finger to his lips, warning me to remain silent. Still holding my hand, he pulls me into the bathroom and closes the door. My wide gaze travels over the opulence of the space, all pristine white marble and textured glass.
“This room is soundproofed, so we can speak freely in here,” he says, leaning back against the counter.
“Soundproofed?” I ask, looking at the four walls and wondering if it’s even possible to muffle sound from a vampire’s keen ears.
“A necessity in every vampire stronghold. With all the ears in residence, it’s difficult to find privacy. So, all of the bathroom walls, the ceiling, and the floor are layered with the strongest sound barriers available. No one can hear us in here, Eden. Ask me anything.”
“Okay,” I say, leaning back against the counter beside him. “What’s the deal with your sister? And how did I not know you even have a sister?”
“I’m sorry,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “I know that was a shock, meeting her like that. I should have…prepared you.”
“She seems…”
“Angry,” he offers when my words trail off. “She is. She thinks the throne should be hers.”
“What?” I ask, my mouth falling open. “But…she’s a child.”
