And even though all of that just happened, where I was caught red-handed, and he was cruel, all I can think about was how handsome he was. The flash of his dark eyes. Those wide shoulders and the curve of his lips.
I’m hot and bothered like never before. Embarrassingly, undeniably, ruining-my-underwear wet.
I peel myself off the wall and march toward the servants’ quarters. The friction only makes matters worse. My nipples are hard against the fabric of my uniform and my skin is flushed and tight, like I’m running a fever.
What the heck is wrong with me?
I should be catastrophizing about my imminent deportation and lack of housing. Instead my body responds like that encounter was... foreplay?
The moment Nikolai stepped into the room, everything changed. I could sense him before I saw him. Those devastating black eyes locked onto me. He moved closer, inhaling deeply and his broad chest expanded beneath that fitted leather jacket. Good thing I took a shower this morning, using my favorite soap.
His nostrils flared and butterflies swooped in my belly.
I’ve had sex before, with two different short-term boyfriends in college, both awkward encounters that left me staring at the ceiling wondering what all the fuss was about. I’ve never once had an orgasm with a partner. Long ago, I learned my vibrator was my best friend.
Standing in that study, six feet away from King Nikolai, I finally understood what people meant when they talked about wanting someone so badly it hurts. If he had touched me — actually touched me — I might have dropped to my knees right there in the broken glass, fumbling with his belt buckle.
And he hates me, which is understandable. We’re enemies now. I rub at my nose, upset that it has to be this way. And yet he called my whole species stupid which is why I lost my temper.
I’d always secretly hoped that when I was working here this semester, I might run into the king, briefly, allowing a small conversation. Those would be nice memories to carry for the rest of my life. Except he caught me riffling through his desk and I had the wimpiest of excuses, causing the King to glare at me with anger and disdain.
Except... does he?
That last moment, before he snarled at me to get out, his fangs had been visible, pressing against his upper lip, sharp and white. What did it mean?
And I swear there was heat in his gaze.
No, no, that’s impossible. I’m nothing but a human maid. A Vampire king would only have the hots for a fabulously rich and gorgeous Krovenian Princess of some sort. I’m neither of those things. Oh heck, I’m certainly imagining things, projecting my own insane attraction onto him. My employer, the man I’ve had a crush on since I was fourteen years old, took one look at me and decided I was beneath him.
This is so humiliating.
And why would I feel so attracted to a man who said such mean things to me?
Did I deserve what he said?
I don’t…think so?
I walk faster, keeping my head down, praying no one can tell I’m a messy mix of hot, bothered, angry and embarrassed.
I need to pack my bags and figure out how much a last-minute flight home costs.
Finally, I arrive at my small room in the servants’ wing. The room is modest but nice. There’s a single bed, wardrobe, and a small window overlooking the snowy courtyard. I’ve only been here three days and I’m already attached to this tiny space.
I pull out my suitcase, start folding clothes and try not to cry. I wanted this job, not just for Derek’s ridiculous mission. I wanted to visit a real vampire castle and learn more about the king I’ve crushed on since I was a teenager with a poster on her wall.
Teenage Claire would be devastated to learn that Real Nikolai is cold and looks at Adult Claire like she’s dirt on his expensive boots.
A knock on my door makes me jump.
I open it expecting guards, ready to escort me off the premises, but it’s Mrs. Vasek, greeting me with a warm smile. “There you are, dear. I have your schedule for the week.”
“My... schedule?”
“Yes. I’ve received a request. You’ve been permanently assigned to the King’s private chambers. Daily. Starting tomorrow at seven.” She glances at my open suitcase. “Are you unpacking? Good, good. Settling in.”
“I’m... I’m not fired?”
Her brow furrows. “Fired? Why would you be fired?”
