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CHAPTER FOUR

CJ

Mirror manipulation is something of an affinity for me. I can see through any reflective surface if the urge strikes me, and it definitely strikes me to see Isolde without her knowledge. She is a gorgeous woman with curves that are definitely better seen in person than in the scrying mirror. I sit back and watch her through the full-length mirror in her bedroom from the one in mine. She is naked, wearing my jacket, and I’ve never seen anything sexier in my godamned life.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, a primal sound I barely suppress. The silk lining caresses her skin, outlining the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. She sniffs the collar, her eyes fluttering closed, and a possessive heat floods my veins. Mine. That scent she’s inhaling, that jacket she’s wrapped in—it’s all mine. And soon, she will be too .

The urge to teleport directly into her room, to feel that soft skin under my hands, to replace the fabric with my own touch, is a near-physical ache. Her innocence, the way she’s so clearly flustered by me, is an intoxicating lure. She thinks she’s just Isaac’s sheltered sister. She has no fucking idea what she is, or what she does to me.

This red moon, this sudden upheaval in this foreign world that is in constant darkness, is a gift. It’s brought her out of her cage and into my world. Blackridge can try to keep me away from her, and Isaac can try to protect her, but they don’t understand. She’s not just some new student. She’s a reckoning. And I’m the only one who sees the storm brewing beneath that shy exterior. I watch her move about her room, the jacket falling open slightly with her movements, offering tantalising glimpses. Patience. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer to claim what’s already destined to be mine. But not too long. The thought of anyone else getting close, of her looking at another man the way she looks at me, even in fear and confusion, is enough to make my dragon traits stir, a simmering fire underneath the cool vampire that is my dominant force. Yeah, she’s definitely better in person, and she’ll be even better in my bed.

Her scent, that unique blend of innocence and something wilder, something untamed, clings to the fabric of the jacket. Fucking intoxicating. My cock stirs, hard and heavy. I grip it, already naked, knowing I have uninterrupted viewing pleasure.

She has no idea the effect she has, not just on me, but on the very air around her. There’s a power thrumming beneath her skin, a defensive magic so potent it’s practically a beacon. But she’s utterly oblivious to it.

I tug my cock gently, imagining her hand on me.

It’s that naivety, that untouched quality, that draws me in as much as her beauty. She’s a prize, a rare, sheltered flower in a garden full of thorns. Now she’s here, at SilverGate, where the monsters roam free.

I’m one of the biggest, baddest monsters of them all.

A smirk plays on my lips. She’s a delicious secret, one I’m not keen on sharing, but Blackridge’s interference earlier was a clear warning. He knows. Or he suspects. It doesn’t matter. No one will keep me from her.

She sniffs my collar again.

“Good girl,” I mutter, jerking off with more gusto now. “Let my scent mark you without you even knowing it.”

My gaze sweeps over her again, lingering on the vulnerable curve of her neck. The urge to drink from her, to claim her in a way that leaves no doubt, is a burning hunger.

She spins to the mirror and strips off the jacket, giving me an unrestricted view of her tight, little body. Her tits are the perfect size for pushing together to slide my dick in between, her cunt is shaved bare, which makes me pant as I tug harder, faster. My orgasm is close. I stand up, my cock in my hand, moving closer to the mirror. With a groan, I stare at her as she brushes out her hair. My balls tighten as I imagine sliding my thick cock into her innocent pussy and my cum shoots out, splattering against the cold glass of the mirror.

“Fuck,” I rasp. “Isolde.” Even her name tastes good on my tongue.

She has no idea. She’s wandering around her room, completely oblivious to my gaze, to the storm she’s unleashed.

My father warned me about distractions, about attachments in this backwater dimension. But Isolde isn’t a distraction. She’s… inevitable. The Morvoren bloodline holds something special. I don’t know what yet, but Isaac will spill the details to me eventually, or if he doesn’t, Isolde will. Reaching out, I smear my cum over her reflection. “No one else will have you, my sweet. You are mine, and the sooner everyone realises that, the better it will be.” I will burn the whole fucking fortress down if anyone tries to take what’s mine.

The mirror suddenly goes ice-cold, enough to burn my palm .

I hiss and pull back, seeing a distorted figure on the other side.

“Interesting,” I mutter, moving closer and peering into the glass. “Who are you?”

The figure vanishes, and I see Isolde again, climbing into bed, draped once again in my jacket.

The chill on the glass dissipates, but the image of that fleeting distortion lingers in my mind. Another player? Or just a trick of the dimensional pathways this old academy is riddled with? Fucking annoying, either way. My claim on Isolde isn’t up for debate.

Eyes narrowed, I pull on my clothes, my cock already hard again, wanting to taste the real thing.

“Soon, my sweet. Soon.”

The thought of her, vulnerable in that room, wearing my jacket like a second skin, reignites the possessive fire. Pulling on my boots, I open the window and look down. The courtyard is empty. I climb out and drop down four floors to the ground with the grace of the powerful vampire I am. In my world, which is so different from this one, there is no one more powerful than my family. My father is an original vampire, an Initial, the only one left, and is nearly three thousand years old. My mother is over a thousand years old and the Dragon Queen, although that title is mostly redundant, as she prefers to be a vampire, much like me. I can’t shift to be a dragon, but I hold all their power in my hand. Maybe if I embraced my Dragon side, I would, but I’m not that interested. Being a vampire is way more fun. Crossing the courtyard, I stop and look up. I can sense Isolde, pinpoint exactly which room she is in. Staring at the window, I wait, but I don’t see anything untoward.

Moving back behind an old tree that looks like it has been scorched from the inside out, I lean against it and watch the window. Never taking my eyes from it while she sleeps.