Page 165 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. One Books #1-4

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

England, 1891

VINCENT STOOD IN THE shadows of the library watching Kate as she stood by the carriage outside the front of his castle. He could see enough from where he stood to see the anguish on her face.

She was grieving.

He ached to go to her and pull her into his arms, but she already had a male to care for her. A male she fucking loved.

Damn her.

His fists and jaw clenched. He was furious she had never told him about Riccardo. Vincent wasn’t a bloodthirsty vampire, but God, he wanted to kill the damn vampire, even if the male had done nothing wrong. He thought Kate to be his mate, and by the sounds of it, the two were fated. Vincent could never punish a vampire unfairly; he wasn’t that kind of king, and never would be. Not even for a female he lo—

No.

Vincent stopped his mind, pressing his fingers against his forehead.

She wasn’t his.

He had no idea what game Kate had been playing at, but their time together, whatever it had been, was over.

He watched Riccardo shake Brayden’s hand and walk toward Kate. When he placed his hands on her, helping her into the carriage, Vincent gripped the window ledge and snapped it off the wall.

Fuck.

He tossed it across the room and let out a growl.

Just before the vehicle departed, he saw the fabric move and her longing look.

That’s when he knew she was looking for him. He had disappointed her.

Same, sweetheart.

Vincent was full of fury, regret, and disappointment.

“I know I’ve been in denial about my feelings for you, Kate,” he told her through the glass. “But I was beginning to think you were mine.”

It was true. He’d begun to wonder if she could be his fucking queen, until she had said she loved another male.

Now he knew she wasn’t.

He watched as the carriage began to move, then turned and walked away.