I shake my head.
“Who’s the most powerful vampire on the High Council?”
I turn toward Prey in the little space and though I can’t see him, I know his mouth issoclose to mine. My suddenly stuttering heart is all too aware of him since he fed on me.
I hate that.
“Zavia for sure. She has unimaginable abilities. Vanishing is a true benefit for her. Rival only grew into that power within the last few years.”Vanishing?“Most vampires grow stronger with age, or through the bond of a mate. Some seek out many mates, but Zavia’s powers are her own. She has never taken a mate, and she won’t in the future. She wouldn’t share her strength with another.”
“Did… did Kyra have a mate?”
This question draws another seething breath out of Prey.
“What the fuck is your problem? I need information. I need more than just an uncomfortable pair of heels and nice hairdo to deceive these bloodthirsty mosquitoes for you!”
His hand jerks away from me and light floods over us as he shoves the lid away and storms out of the deathbed I had gotten far too comfortable in.
My jaw clenches hard, but I manage to rise from my sarcophagus. And when I say rise, I don’t mean that I’m drawn up like an eerie creature of the night. I have to throw my leg over the edge and literally hurt my coochie trying to crawl out of this fucking stone box.
My heels stumble and threaten to break my neck on the way out.
“Fucking, vampiric bullshit!” I hiss.
But when I stand, Prey is looking at me with wide eyes and an open mouth with no cruel words falling from his lips.
And that’s how I know something bad has happened.
“Your neck,” he whispers.
“Shit, did it leave a mark? I told you it would. Dammit!”
In a flash, he’s so close that I can feel his energy prickling over my skin. And then he’s caressing my jaw. Right before he flips my chin harshly to the side and really inspects my throat.
“Fuck!” he hisses.
“What? Just get some concealer. You’re my assistant, fuckboy. Run on out to Walgreens and get me a pale shade of concealer. We’ll be fine.”
“No. You,” he shoves his fingers through his inky hair and pulls hard. My hands lift to instinctively make him lower his fists down from his pretty locks.
“Stop,” I whisper. “It’s just a hickey. It’s not a big deal.”
Why? Why do I care if he hurts himself?
“No! It’s not just a fucking hickey, Kira! Jesus Christ, why are you humans so incredibly dense!?”
My heart dips at the sound of my real name on his lips.
Especially spoken in such a thick layer of anger.
“It’s a mark!” He looks up at me with wild blue eyes, like a storm crashing through the calm night sky. “It’s a mating mark, Kira,” he whispers like he’s been slain and he’s taking his last breath to give to me.
And it’s then that I see the problem.
I haven’t just been marked. I’ve been claimed.
By Prey.
Fuck me.
