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Women surrounded me, mortals waiting to be fed on. But they weren’t what I was searching for. They were a taste of the hidden, merely objects to stare at on the way to falling further into obsession.
Gwen sat with her boyfriend. He leaned forward, shoulders slumped as he tried to engage deeper into conversation over a glass of blood, but she wasn’t focused on him. Instead, her gaze flitted around the room, her mind elsewhere. A smirk danced over my mouth.
I had intrigued her, and I wanted to bet her eyes hadn’t truly looked at Astor since. Or I hoped. Rage clawed at my chest, waiting to be unleashed on the pair of them. I didn’t want to care, yet she was so far embedded in my thoughts, there was little room for anything else.
Pinching my eyes shut, I pressed my thumb against my lips, an echo of feeling her against them. She’d only kissed me once, before I’d flown from this castle to forget her, but she haunted me in every woman I saw since. Whenever lavender bloomed, or a hint of vanilla reached me, she was brought back to life through the memory of her scent.
Averting my gaze, I stepped out of the room before they could see me watching. My stomach dipped, and I shook my head, refocusing my thoughts. I had a new desire now. The crown, and the princess who’d give it to me. Gwen wasn’t going to screw me again, not like before.
Half a century passed me before I cared what anyone thought of me. Until I met her. I had been in the castle for mere weeks after Kalon finally brought me here to meet Sargon. His disapproval of his brother’s adoption of me had finally dissolved, and I was welcomed to live just outside the royal ranks. Not a noble, or one of them. I was an outsider, but I made a name for myself quickly. Everyone learned to bow to me without a title or induce my wrath. Political schemes earned me a place in the war meetings, and my ability to read people pushed me close to the top. Especially when the Blood Brothers rose from nothing. Adrian—my ancient friend—helped me build the club.
I felt people out, especially the nobles. Some called it manipulation. I called it survival. I invested my father’s wealth into those I saw becoming somebody and reaped the benefits. I had hundreds of friendships formed under a pretense of who I was to them.
Then there was Gwen.
I met her in the ballroom. Smiling across the room, eyes burning into mine, she consumed me from the beginning. Her doe-eyes blinked slowly when she walked over to me that day. I couldn’t look away from how her hips swayed, her confidence in each step, and her siren gaze. At first, it was purely physical. That quickly changed. Her wit, understanding, and lust for life lured me like a moth to a flame. She saw through me, mostly because we hid in the same darkness.
I’d never been on the receiving end of being manipulated before, and I never would be again. The feeling of being with her chipped away at my resolve and heart. We’d never even fucked, yet Gwen had stolen the parts of me I’d kept buried since I’d turned.
I hated her for it, and yet she remained the very thing I desired more than anything else. Even the crown. Not that I’d admit it to anyone, especially her.
Losing myself was the worst consequence of Gwen. I strayed so far that it took me a long time to find my way back to myself.
“Adrian!” I shouted as my old friend approached me, then placed his arm around me, patting me twice on the shoulder before stepping a pace back.
“Niall, I heard you were back. I just got here a couple of hours ago. Looks like I missed the ceremony. We have a new princess, I’m told.”
The corner of my lip lifted. “Yes, and she is a beauty.”
He ran his hand through his blond hair, his smile dimpling his cheeks. He and I had always gotten on the best out of everyone else here. He may have been the only person I had who I actually enjoyed. But, like me, he had a taste for the reckless. “Still wearing suits, I see.”
He brushed down the front of his immaculate blazer, then adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Some of us have taste.”
I let out a low chuckle, peering around him at the hordes of late-rising vampires making their way to the feeding room. “Hungry?”
He wetted his lips. “Always. Know of any quieter spots?”
I grinned, rubbing my hands together. Before I’d left, he and I were the real princes of this court. Self-made men who bowed to no one, respected by everyone. Even the king had taken a liking to Adrian over the years. We had our secret club, invite only, for the more affluent people in the castle. There, we had ‘quiet spots’, just rooms made to hold the most attractive, best tasting mortals for the pleasure of our club members. Everyone knew about the ‘Blood Brothers’. At one point, everyone desired to become a member. Until Gwen fucked it all up.
“Not yet, but I met a girl, Alana, in the feeding room. She would be perfect.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, wrinkling his ironed pants. “I hope they’ve not all sunken their teeth into her already. You know how I feel about used goods.”
“She tastes good, takes care of herself somehow. Comes on command.”
He blew out a long exhale, his lips spreading into a grin. “Let’s get her out of there then.” He glared after the nobles falling into the feeding room, and his nostrils flared.
“There’s this other woman, too, from Asland. Sebastian Vangard was feeding on her the other day.”
Adrian clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes up to the high ceiling. “Fucking Vangard. Does he still think he’s better than everyone else?”
I raised my brows, sucking the inside of my lip between my teeth. “Yeah, and he’s ‘Your Highness’ now.”
He slid his pale blue eyes to the windows, his eyelashes fluttering against a twitch. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“It’s all right, he won’t be a prince for long.”
Adrian’s eyes widened, a cruel smile curling up one side of his face. “I sense we need to have a catch up over some negative O.”
