Page 78 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

The bathroom door slowly swings open. My heart nearly pounds its way out of my chest when Svenn strides in.

“There’s a perfectly good bath chamber in your own room,” I say, backing my body against the sink counter.

The guilt playing on his face is honest and sincere. “The door was open. I didn’t think anyone was inside.”

Right… I forgot that I am silent sometimes. It’s a force of habit I’ve developed to survive Astefar.

The expansive bathroom seems to shrink in his presence. He closes the remaining distance between us in the blink of an eye. A predator going in for the kill.

“What do you think you’re doing?” My heart stutters in my chest.

He makes a slow gaze from my lips to my breast, then moving downwards to my waist and hips. Svenn is looking at me like he wants to eat me.

“Nel, what did I tell you about prey-like behavior?” he says gruffly.

“I didn’t run.” I swallow my dry throat.

“This dress is prey-like behavior.” His voice ricochets through me.

It’s a nightgown,I almost quip back.

The air around us thickens, becoming charged with each passing second. His dark eyes continue to travel over my body like a phantom caress.

Then slowly, his fingers follow his gaze. His knuckles trace my jaw and collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. They move lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. A forbidden feeling thunders through me at the touch. I want to feel his hands on me everywhere.

He stares down at me, his eyes darkening with desire. They’re unfocussed, as if he’s in a trance. His hand lingers long on my belly, bunching my dress there.

Heavens above.

I forgot.

No. No. No.

My nightgown is sheer gossamer. He’ll see the Rhunhraefn and I’ll feel like garbage again.

But Svenn doesn’t stop.

He hooks his hand around my waist, pulling me close to him. I gasp at the feel of his erection, stiff against my stomach.

My breasts are pressed up against his hard, chiseled abdomen. I rake my hand up his chest because I can’t help it. A soft groan of delight leaves him, the sound vibrating through my body.

His heart is beating hard beneath my hand, almost as loud as mine.

What is going on? Does he not care about the Rhunhraefn mark anymore? Did his self-therapy work? And did he just purr?

I have so many questions running in my head. But the only word that ends up on my lips is, “Svenn?”

Our eyes meet.

He snaps out of it, shaking his head. The light slowly returns to his pupils. I see a hint of guilt playing on his face before he prowls away, growling.

“Where are you going?” I ask, still breathless from his stupid tease.

“There’s a perfectly good bath chamber in my room.” He waves back.

“Svenn, you jerk!”

He throws his head back laughing at my tame insult. It’s heartfelt, playful, and carefree. My brick walls melt like butter at the sound. I want to memorize and listen to it for the rest of my life.