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"From the moment we parted,my soul has been desperate to return to you, to make sure you're okay. But you weren't. I could feel it. Actually, I don't think you've been okay since the race last night."
“Since when has your soul cared about me?” I deflect. A spike of anger rolls through me that must have come from my wolf. How dare Torsten appear like this now, all soft embraces and perfect words, to screw with my already jumbled thoughts.
Perhaps he’s been trying to do just that since the beginning, and you’ve refused to let him in.I tut at myself, preparing to throw Torsten’s arms as far away from me as possible.
“Oh, I’ve cared, Aspen.” My name is a sin on his tongue—a beautiful crime against my psyche. My hands grip his, and after a brief struggle with my self-control, I pull him tighter. Enveloping myself in his strong arms and trying not to wonder what he’s been up to for his sudden change in attitude. Turning my head into his fresh t-shirt, I inhale but can’t scent another female on him – so that rules out one theory.
“Then why wait until now to tell me?”
“I don’t think you’ve been ready to hear it. And I get it. Jaxon is charming, Chase is the loveable asshole. You needed an asshole to take your frustrations out on, and I was happy to be of service. Whatever it takes to hold your interest just that little bit longer.” Staring at the moon hanging from a star-filled midnight sky, we remain quiet. Still, just as it did on the beach, my heart falls into rhythm with his. It should probably freak me out, but it is likely to be a vampire trait over anything else.
But nothing this easy can last. I can’t allow myself to fall into the perfect slot between Torsten’s arms and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I can’t allow myself to be won like a second-hand prize and handed over to the biggest brute. I thought the shifter camp’s rules were dated, but the vampires are outright archaic. My only saving grace are the romance novels that my mother would sneak to me from the human world to know any different. Perhaps those false notions of love will be my downfall, but my heart knows I don’t want to be a consolation.
"How do I know anything is real? Aren't I just a prize to be won? Maybe it's not even about me, but about becoming king." Torsten merely chuckles, lowering his head so that his lips hover near my collarbone, not quite kissing me but tantalizingly close.
"I suppose the truth is out," he sighs but I catch a glimpse of his smirk as I pull away from his embrace. Turning to face his sheepish gray eyes, Torsten reaches for me, but I cross my arms, creating a barrier between us.
"Believe me, being king is a burden none of us desire. If you'd asked me last week, I would have told you I secretly dreaded the idea of being mated to a hybrid and then having to rule by her side." He lowers his head with a sigh, understanding that whatever was happening between us has reached its end, at least for now. “And now?” I urge. Torsten looks at me from underneath his sweep of white hair.
“Now I want to win, and not for bragging rights. I want to win you.” The air rushes from my lungs, all inhibitions washing away with the next stroke of Torsten’s knuckles on my arm. He silently asks for my permission, and I don’t deny him. My wolf whines, refusing to submit while the inner beast leans forward, presenting herself with a coy hint of a smile on my lips. I try to reign her back, but it’s too late. Torsten holds me close, lowering his face to brush his jaw over my cheek. A hand wraps into my hair, tugging my head back to stare into his eyes. Desire radiates from every pore, his full lips parted enough for his fangs to poke through.
Take us, the voice begs. She’s stronger than before, more stubborn to being suppressed. Her urges are primal, and she wants Torsten. My tongue darts out to lick my lips, causing his gaze to zero in. Target locked; lips loaded. Lowering his head with painful slowness, my eyes flutter closed as the faintest brush of his mouth graces mine.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Chase’s chuckle echoes around the gallery. The second I’m aware of my senses, I hear his heartbeat and find him slung over the sculpture I resonated with. Pressing my lips together, shame coats my cheeks. My emotions are a mess of hunger, cravings, and the slither of good sense seeping through.
Slamming down a wall between us, I walk away from Torsten, taking deliberate steps and holding my head high. I almost did something foolish, forgetting myself for a moment. But if I acknowledge that I don't truly hate him, I don't know what that means or where it leaves our relationship. Fortunately, Chase appears at my side, sparing me the embarrassment of whatever quip is probably simmering on his tongue.
“Jaxon is restocking our blood bags, and then we’re good to go.” My eyes narrow, but I manage to keep my composure for the most part.
“Oh, that’s right. You three need your strength to ensure the litter I am to carry has a formidable bloodline.” His boots fall short, and a curse falls from his lips.
“Ahh, shit.”
I leave the gallery, and the two males muttering behind. Even Jaxon will have to wait, although I won’t forget how he withheld the truth and led me to believe the vampires were welcoming me with open arms. Storming through the east wing, I brace my hands on the ceiling-high door separating me from the rest of the castle, anticipating the onslaught of senses-override in search of the one I’m truly pissed at. Lorcan doesn’t want a daughter – he wants an out. Better yet, heirs. More hybrids to utilize. Sawyer is right, I didn’t ask the right questions, and now I’m going to get some answers.
Chapter11
Lorcan
“Excuse me, you can’t go in there!”
My brows raise at the commotion beyond my office door before it bursts open. Aspen stands, eyes blazing and radiating fury. Raising a hand, I dismiss Nova before offering Aspen a seat across my desk. She picks it up and throws it into the mirror above the fireplace instead.
“I’m sensing there’s something on your mind, Aspen,” I stand slowly. There aren’t many things in this world a vampire king like myself knows to be cautious with, but a powerful hybrid who blames me for her mother’s death is definitely one of them. Watching on, I permit Aspen to trash my office for far longer than necessary. Had I been the ruthless king I once was, she’d have been in the dungeons by now – kin or not. The truth is…I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I can’t muster a single shit about anything, and that’s why I am no longer fit for this role.
When the rest of the room is destroyed, Aspen swivels to face me. Her navy eyes are tinted with gold, her fangs protruding and sharp. White fur ripples along her arms as her shoulders jerk of their own accord. She’s fighting against a shift, but I’d be lying if I pretended not to be interested in her wolf form. Would she resemble her mother? Does she bear any more similarities to myself?
Clenching her fists, Aspen growls, low and deep. Holding my hands up, I slowly round the glass desk, knocking the computer monitor and causing it to wobble, an idea presenting itself. I rarely look at the blasted thing anyway. It’s all for show. Apparently, I need the latest and greatest human, technical advancements to keep up with this new era. I simply can’t adjust to a world that’s passing by so quickly when I have no real desire to be in it.
Although every male is trained to fight at a very young age, the skill invaluable should any threats surface, I allow all vamps to choose their own vocations. As I've discovered the hard way, our long existence can become unbearable without having a hobby or skill to focus on.
Upon venturing into the human world, the Techies decided to build themselves a warehouse on the edge of the castle’s surrounding town. Soldering irons and the likes line the walls, with worktables in the center covered in screens, gadgets, and a shit-load of wires and circuits. It keeps them entertained, and I trust my vamps when they tell me the humans are becoming more advanced. Our species needs to be prepared should they discover our existence. Again.
Tearing the wires from the flat screen monitor, I offer it to Aspen and then step aside as she punches it through the desk. Glass shatters, and the scent of her blood hits me—the perfect blend of Orianna and I invading my nostrils.
“Are we quite finished?” I manage to ask, my insides restricting. Not again. Not now. I’ve been regulating myself so well. The door opens once more, and the three I instructed to protect her slip inside with their heads lowered. I’ll deal with them later, and not just because they made no rush to aid me in here. Only cowards hang outside the door, and I didn’t promote fucking cowards to rule my army.
Righting two armchairs, I place them before the fire currently burning an oil painting portrait of myself. With slow and purposeful movements, my daughter lets me guide her by the shoulders and ease her to sit as I take the other chair.
