Page 22 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

“Speaking of next time.” Isabelle rose to her feet. “Shall we?”

My jaw hurt from how hard I was clenching it, my fangs grinding on my bottom teeth.

I hated the Selection, always had, but I was in no power to do anything about it.

Vincent had kept the clans under control as much as he could, and I tried to do the same after I’d become the new leader of the Duval clan, but there was only so much I could do.

I was their equal, not their superior. Vincent had held certain authority because he’d been the oldest vampire among the clans.

I didn’t have that advantage and couldn’t exert the same influence.

“You can look at least a little bit excited about this,” Isabelle said, strolling to the door.

“There is nothing to be excited about, Isabelle. We don’t even need vassals. The humans already donate blood to keep our cellars well-stocked.”

I rose from the chair behind my desk and joined her by the door.

“True, but we both know it’s not the same.

Oh, the thrill of biting into a human, of having fresh, warm blood spill into your mouth…

” Isabelle moaned, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they were almost entirely black.

“Tasting that essence, that vitality on your tongue… There is nothing like it. It’s what gives us life, Henry.

You can’t change your nature, so you might as well enjoy it. ”

I swallowed, shifting from foot to foot.

She was right—I couldn’t change that I was a vampire—but enjoying that aspect of it just felt…

wrong. Always had and always would. Still, I couldn’t fight my nature, as excitement invaded my veins at Isabelle’s words.

Rolling my shoulders, I tamped it down as much as I could.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said grimly, reaching for the handle and opening the door.

Isabelle’s eyes were bright as she walked past me into the foyer.

I stepped out of the study next, halting right on the other side of the door.

She was here. Her light floral scent hit me first, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I’d recognize it anywhere. It had stayed with me after the Selection last year.

My mind even played tricks on me sometimes, making me think I picked up on it when I was at the border where she couldn’t possibly be.

I didn’t know why her scent had stayed with me.

Perhaps because she smelled like a meadow on a bright sunny day, only more subtle, more delicate.

At least, I thought she did. I wasn’t sure I still remembered what a meadow would smell like during daylight, after all that time living in the shadows.

I must still remember, though, because a picture of one appeared in my mind just now when her scent hit my nostrils.

Sophie Devereaux. I had been drawn to her last time, every instinct in me screaming to choose her as my vassal.

I had resisted because I knew Vincent wouldn’t have approved of me choosing Eloise’s daughter.

I had resisted then, and now she was back to taunt me again.

Why had she returned? She had been terrified last year; I had smelled her fear, so what had driven her to volunteer to participate in the Selection again?

I was about to find out. My legs moved as if of their own accord as I began gliding down the first row of the Candidates, each step bringing me closer to her.

“Sophie?” I asked, stopping before her.

Her floral scent enveloped me, and I was instantly in a meadow, basking in the warm sun.

“My Lord.” She gave a small, innocent smile, gazing up at me from beneath her lashes.

Her eyes were a stunning hazel color with a warm green hue like her mother’s.

She also had the same shade of hair—a glossy golden brown—and the same smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

I had always thought Eloise was beautiful, but I had never been drawn to her like I was to the woman before me.

My throat dried as we stared at each other.

The difference between the Selection last year and this time was astounding.

Then, she had been a frightened little bird.

Now, she stood with confidence, her delicate features set with resolve.

Her eyes were almost feverish, and that made me wary.

No human in their right mind would return for the Selection a second year in a row.

Something was off about Sophie, but I didn’t know what it was.

Not a mystery for you to solve, I told myself, dragging my gaze away from her to focus on the young woman to her left.

When I did, Sophie grabbed my hand, her warm touch sending a charge through me at the contact.

My gaze darted back to her, and she dropped my hand as if startled by the coolness of my skin.

Her eyes wide and her lips parted, she looked like she wasn’t sure what she was doing.

Then she bit down on her lower lip, drawing my attention to her mouth.

I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t stop my gaze from gliding down the column of her neck.

Her hair was pulled up, giving me an unobscured view of where her pulse thrummed under her smooth, supple skin.

My mouth watered as the hum of the blood flowing through her veins filled my ears.

Her floral scent surrounded me, and for a second, I was gone again, no longer in the foyer of the mansion.

I was in a meadow drenched in sunlight with Sophie in my arms. I held her as I was drinking from her neck…

I knew my eyes were nearly black when I blinked a few times to bring myself back to the present.

If the hunger in them terrified Sophie like it had last year, she didn’t show it.

Her quickening pulse betrayed her emotions, but it was unease, not pure terror, that I smelled on her this time. Interesting.

“I choose you as my vassal.” The words left me, rough and thick.

I told myself I was choosing her because she might shed some light on Vincent’s disappearance, but I knew deep down that wasn’t the only reason.

I craved her, and instead of fighting the urge like I should, I was giving into it.

It seemed from the very beginning, when it came to Sophie, my will was not entirely my own, and I was completely and utterly at her mercy.