Kane Vampire’s don’t have fated mates. In fact, most people don’t think that vampires even have souls. I’m not sure what I think of that since I was born a vampire. It’s not as if I were once a person who was killed by a vampire and my soul was released to hell or where-have-you, and now I am some
It's all I can do to keep my hand still as I harden beneath the sheets. I know I’ve done the right thing in walking away from her. She is emotional and exhausted. Her entire world has been torn apart, and it will take some time for it to be put back together. I may own her, but only as a feeder. Sh
She nods. “It’s a beautiful day outside. We could go for a walk in the garden.” “Am I allowed to do that?” I ask her. She giggles. “Of course. And you’re dressed for it.” I glance down at my red sundress and strappy sandals. “All right,” I say. “As long as you’re sure the king won’t mind.” “No,
Emory “This is her?” a blonde woman with a pointy nose asks, her raised finger barely sharper than her beak. “This is the fucking breeder?” I take a deep breath, not wanting any trouble. I am obviously outnumbered, and while I have no problem kicking Opal’s ass and her friends’ asses, I have a fee
“Shift, stupid bitch!” Opal says, kicking me again, this time in the shin, harder. Her foot is like a piece of stone, and I wince as I feel myself instantly bruising. I may have to run with one shoe on and hope that it falls off. Maybe I can use this shifting bit to my advantage. “It’s against the
“Get back here, fucking bitch breeder!” Opal is shouting, and I can feel the reverberation of their footsteps off of the sidewalk as they fly toward me. I am fast. I am not that fast. I see the castle in front of me and know it will take me a moment to get up the steps and through that door. Even
Emory My head is aching, and my shin is throbbing, but when I look up to see King Kane standing near the side of my bed, it’s like all of the aches dissipate, and the only thing that matters now is him. I start to sit up, but he stops me with a motion of his hand. Helga and Nellie are gone, and it
“Emory?” The sound of my name on his lips does nothing to dislodge the distraction I am caught in. He lifts his other hand so that one finger is beneath my chin, and he pulls my eyes back to meet his face. When his hand leaves my skin, I can breathe again, and my hand slips away from his arm. “Actua
MichaelI can count on one hand how many times I’ve been in this cathedral over the course of my short life. The dark stone walls echo even the smallest whisper, and the ancient stained glass sends shadows instead of snowy sunlight into the cavernous space. I wouldn’t consider vampires a very relig
FayeIt’s snowing on my wedding day. Snowing hard, actually, as I watch cars pulling around the castle where valets are waiting to greet the guests. The wedding will take place in an hour. An hour. I can’t believe it. My stomach pitches as two maids pull curlers from my hair and dab blush on my che
EmeldaQueen Emory smiles at the spread of vampire-friendly food laid out on a tea-table. Blood pastries and cakes galore sit on pretty little trays adorned with flowers, flutes of blood made to sparkle resting beside them. “Are you not hungry?” she asks as I inspect the spread over the sound of Al
MichaelI don’t really want to be here, but my mother and my fiancee practically forced me out of the castle and locked the door behind me. The dingy, crowded tavern some thirty miles away from the castle seems to sway against the crowd of shifters and vampires alike, everyone drinking copious amou
FayeIt’s snowing again. White fluff falls from the dark sky, highlighted by the exterior sconces placed along the walls of the castle. I smile as it blankets the ground, sticking to every surface it touches. I never really thought about the logistics of my future wedding. A marriage? Sure. My even
MichaelI stare at my soon-to-be bride, who looks up at me like a little golden owl, her blue eyes wide and shocked as she takes in my level of disheveledness. But I’m looking at her bloody finger, the bowl of liquid on the table, and the two guilty-looking ex-witches standing on either side of Fay
“He told me he thought you might have been pregnant the night we were going to give you that final potion,” she whispers, meeting my eyes. “I told him it couldn’t be. It was far too early to tell and the herbs I’d been giving you to try to heal you would have been harmful for the baby.”We stare at
FayeMorning comes like sand falling through an hourglass. All night, time moved so slowly. Each second passed in agony as I waited and paced, hoping for any shred of news from Michael. I’ve spent the most time in the living room sitting in awkward discomfort between Cole and Emelda, who refuse to
MichaelAlpha Harold watches as I sink into an armchair across from the raging fire in the hearth. He holds me a glass of whiskey, his eyes holding mine for a second before he turns to settle on a stool beside his mate. I find this entire situation–this man, this pack–alarming. “How long have you