Page 41 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

The short discussion I'd had with the guy Grayson hired to keep our businesses afloat definitely hadn't helped. He was half-assing his way through everything, and one conversation with him had been enough to prove it.

None of the shit that had once been normal for me felt like it fit anymore.

And that was far from comfortable.

I'd tried to chalk the discomfort up to transitioning from prison life to society again, but it felt like a lie. Some deep, undefined parts of me had changed. I wasn't sure how to come to terms with that.

My reflection did somehow make me feel better. I didn't look exactly the same. I looked… rougher.

Twelve years was a long fucking time to spend locked away underground, especially while starving.

That particular problem wasn't going away completely. Asking Ophelia to let me feed from her every day wasn't reasonable. I'd have to spend the rest of my life with some amount of hunger, but that was alright.

I could accept it. I had accepted it, when I offered to mate with her to get out of the penitentiary.

I'd much rather starve in a mansion than in an underground prison.

I squeezed the water out of my locs, and hung up my towel like a civilized immortal. It took longer than it should've. We'd never hung things up in the prison.

I'd always been organized, before. There was always a schedule, and a list of things to accomplish. Every night, I'd plan out the next day. Even in prison, I'd tried to do the same in my head. It kept me sane.

I wasn't sure how to plan whatever was coming next.

Or what I was even supposed to do next.

My new phone was sitting on the nightstand, plugged in. Ophelia's was plugged in next to it, though she hadn't agreed to keep it. I didn't think she had much money, but the phone thing seemed like something she was refusing by choice. Not because she couldn't afford it.

I'd have to convince her to change that.

My device felt awkward in my hand as I sat down on my bed and picked it up.

Fuck, the mattress was squishy.

I was going to have to stop at a store the next day. Find a firm one. There was no way I'd be able to sleep on a foam cushion after a decade on the rock-like mattresses the prison had provided.

I tossed the duvet aside and lowered myself to my back on the bed.

There needed to be some kind of a plan.

I just wasn't sure what.

I'd definitely have to take our businesses over again. Grayson was paying more than a small fortune every month to the asshole who had fucked many of them up.

Ideally, I'd find a way to get involved with getting the rest of the innocent people out of the prison, too. But Ophelia either didn't want me involved, or there was nothing I could do. Maybe both.

On top of that, there was the mate issue.

She wanted us to live apart. She didn't want to communicate. She wanted to meet up at the grocery store when I needed to feed.

When I had been starving, I'd agreed with that plan. Agreeing had been the only option.

Now that I was thinking more clearly, none of those things sounded ideal.

Yeah, I could let her call the shots, and just go along with what she wanted.

Or, I could attempt to convince her otherwise. Try to seduce her. Make her fall for me. Take her on dates and whatnot.

I'd dated many women, before. It had been a long time, but I could figure it out again. I'd never managed to fall for one of them myself, but making a woman love you wasn't rocket science. They just wanted to be listened to and valued.