Page 28 of Dark Flame

I gesture for another glass of blood, chugging this one just as quickly. I’m debating signalling one of the humans over again, this time demanding a vein, but the concept of feeding straight from any of their bodies doesn’t interest me at the moment. So I take a third glass, this time sipping it to prolong the healing. Like a glass of bourbon mortals would consume slowly after a long day at their pitiful jobs.

“What’s your name?” She moves on to her next question. “You told me if I played the part, I’d get your name.”

“My last name,” I correct, lifting a finger off the glass. “Night isn’t over yet.”

“Asshole vampire it is then. Your choice.”

I hide my smirk behind my glass and catch Cedric’s attention from across the room. He’s leaning against a wall, his own glass of blood drained, while he talks to two businessmen from across the world. He glances over their shoulders at me. While our conversation hasn’t been loud, many of the older ones here, Cedric included, can overhear.

“Dormer. That’s my last name.”

She blinks, her snark momentarily slipping away. I’m learning, with this Sinclair, surprise is key to dismantling her.

“You’re a king?”

“The castle didn’t tip you off?”

“Assumed you stole it.”

She’s not far off. “I once conquered it.”

She snorts, scanning the tapestries, all of which are original and date back centuries. Some even before my mortal birth. “Isn’t that stealing?”

“It’s different. Conquering is a sign of strength.”

“When did you do that?”

She’s probing for my age in that indirect way of hers. “A while ago.”

“Were you a king in your human life too?” Her voice picks up, like she’s genuinely interested in my backstory. No doubt it’s a ploy, and she thinks that by playing nice, she’ll earn her freedom. Or she’s searching for a weakness. Either way, it won’t work.

“Yes.” It’s a slight lie. Technically, I was a prince at the time.

“King Dormer,” she mocks. Her jabs irritate and fascinate me all at the same time. “How’d you become king of the vampires then?”

I tear my eyes away from the interested crowd to the witch sitting ever so pretty by my side, like the perfect little captive. Her cuffed hands are a striking difference from the dress, her hair unruly around her face, the splattering of freckles looking brighter beneath her rage and determined eyes are focused entirely on me.

I could get used to this. Fuck the cell she’ll later return to.

“You’re awfully interested.”

One bare shoulder shrugs, which only shifts hair forwards. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll need an inscription for your headstone.Here lies the asshole vampire who once stole a king’s castle, named himself as the new ruler, and then took over the vampires too.Do they know you’re a fake king?” She nods to the crowd.

A few gasp, others chuckle. I let her speak freely, because it’s only providing a show that’ll encourage the bidding later.

“They know enough.”

She huffs, shaking her head. It blows her enticing scent towards me, and between my hunger, her taunts, our audience, and my vastly declining mood, those forbidden and strange feelings from earlier return. Before they consume me, I need to regain control of her and of myself.

I snap my fingers, earning her glare once more. “Stand.”

Defiance exudes from every pore, but a quick glance to our audience shuts her down. It’s wise since she has no idea how unsafe she is inside a room full of vampires who desire draining her dry.

I point to the space beside my throne, and she shuffles there, the clanging of her cuffs the only noise in the suddenly silent room. Hundreds of eyes are on us with a mixture of interest and hunger. Few begin showing those very signs of hunger, which only adds to my next taunt.

I reach for one of her wrists, bringing it up to my face, her pulse deliciously rapid. Given both her arms are clasped together with a little chain separating the cuffs, they move together.

Just the sweet, addictive smell of her has my fangs lengthening, and I drag them along her pulse point, keeping my attention on the audience. Sinclair gasps but wisely doesn’t try to yank away. I trace a vein, inhaling deeply before lifting my head, pretending to ignore the subtle scent of her desire that flares so suddenly…and enigmatically.