Chapter Thirty

The thought of Eleanor filled Drakken’s head like an overdosed drug. Her scent still lingering on his bed and on the pillows. It was when he caught himself sniffing the sheets repeatedly he had sent in for a maid to wash it and replace it with another, lest he went mad.

He did not wish to keep being reminded of Eleanor’s presence even when she was not physically present.

His mood was amped up than usual for the rest of the morning, not even wavering a bit when his father brought up talks of the vampire princess that would have pissed him off on a normal day.

Last night with Eleanor in his arms was the best night he had ever had. She was not the first woman to warm his bed, but she certainly made a difference. The unusualnesses though that she displayed when he wanted to have sex with her, and her bone-chilling nightmare bothered him, almost at the point of torment.

Drakken was aware he had murdered her parents in cold blood, yet that did not seem to be the issue pertaining to her nigh