“I can’t figure out why you have so many humans working in the castle. They seem content to serve you. Not terrified for their lives. Not dinner.” I frown. It makes no sense.
“Ah, yes, because we are big, evil vampires, and we slaughter warmbloods. That’s what the Fae teach about us, no?” he asks. Why does his annoying smirk have to be so attractive?
“Well, yes. Your kind has been killing humans since the dawn of time. That’s why they’ve fled to Reweroth, by the thousands. And the ones that remain, they fear for their lives constantly. So how come here, they seem to coexist in peace with their biggest threat?”
“Not everything is as it seems, little umbra. We haven’t been viciously feeding on them for a very long time. We’ve built a delicate ecosystem based on consent. They have a choice. A good life, protection, in exchange for their blood. They do feed us, but because they want to.”
My frown deepens. I’ve never heard such a story. Nevertheless, I can’t ignore the evidence of so many humans working in the castle, seeming at ease in the presence of the Vampire King. Nella’s words from that first conversation float in my brain.“I work here because I want to. We all do. I am safe here, as you are too, my lady.”
“But the war between our kingdoms that King Silvestrus led in order to save the Fae and the humans alike…The peace treaty from three hundred years ago obtained by King Orgon…”
“You mean the propaganda,” he says matter-of-factly.
“The what? You can’t sit here and tell me it’s all a well-crafted lie promoted generation after generation!”
My throat feels dry as parchment, and I grab the wine flute, sipping in the flavorful liquid.
“Only yes, I can. It’s exactly that—a lie your rulers created to hide the truth. It’s all much more trivial than you would imagine.”
“Enlighten me, then.” I down the rest of the sparkling wine and offer him the glass for a refill. His brow quirks upward, but he obliges, refilling my drink.
“I was a young, reckless two hundred years old vampire, and I might or might not have gotten entangled with Queen Ayana. Silvestrus found out, and all hell broke loose.”
I spit a mouthful of wine in shock. Good thing the tablecloth is a deep burgundy, hiding the stains already forming. A trickle of wine slides down my chin, and before I can wipe it off, a tendril of his shadows caresses the spot, cleaning it up. The touch is so tender, so affectionate.
“No way, the Great War started because you fucked King Silvestrus’s wife!”
His wicked smile widens. “Ah, but it did. A scorned man with such a big ego is a dangerous man, little umbra. It didn’t help matters at all that Ayana fell madly in love, against her betterjudgment. I never promised her my heart, but I guess one cannot control these things.”
“But the queen was a war casualty. She was abducted and killed brutally.” I frown, trying to untangle what he is saying from what I know.
His gaze hardens. “The queen was never kidnapped. She ran away from her kingdom on her own. She was deluded with promises of eternal love that I never made. When I did not reciprocate her feelings, and wanted to send her back in order to end the war, she took her own life. It’s one of the few regrets I have in this existence,” he says in a solemn voice.
“A five-hundred-year ferocious war ensued, just because you presumably couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. That’s madness!” I slump against my seat, doubting everything I thought I knew about our history. I don’t know how to feel about what he’s saying, or even if I believe it. It goes against everything I was taught, yet something deep in my gut tells me he is not fabricating this story.
“I was young and reckless.” He sighs. “When Silvestrus died and his son took his place, brokering the peace treaty, I was relieved. Orgon wanted the bloodshed to stop just as much as I did. Five hundred years is a very long time to hold a grudge. So many casualties on both sides, all dying in the name of a lie. But Orgon wanted to perpetuate the lie. He was against the war, yet he didn’t want to tarnish his father’s legacy by exposing the truth. After all, the Faes would turn against their royals if they ever discovered that the entire massacre could have been avoided. Hence, the deception remains over eight hundred years later.”
“That’s quite a secret to keep for almost a millennium.” I mule over his tale, and the implications that extend to the last thousand years of Imiryion’s annals. I still can’t wrap my head around the possibility of such a deception, but then somethingdawns on me, and I sit straighter in my chair as I murmur, “You’re more than a thousand years old.” He nods once, and I shudder. “The only thing older in existence than you isthe prophecy.” Another solemn nod. “And you plan to fuck my twenty-three years old sister. That’s gross! Twenty-three is practically a baby compared to your age!” A nervous laugh escapes my lips.
His mood darkens dramatically, frantic shadows swirling against his frame. Oops, did I say the wrong thing?
“First of all…” he stands abruptly. “The prophecy specifies nothing about fucking. It just states a union, little umbra. I intend to ally with your sister for my purposes. Or offer her a marriage proposal, if she is so inclined—a marriage of convenience, not out of love.” His tone is sharp and unforgiving, and he crosses the space between us in two strides.
“Second…” His powerful frame engulfs me as he leans over my chair. “The one I am interested in fucking is you, not your sister.” My breath catches in my throat as his muscled arms rest on either side of my head, caging me. He did not just say what I think he did, right?
“Third, when I look at you, umbra, I see no baby at all. I see a devastatingly beautiful Fae female, with looks that can bring any male to his goddamn knees, and a fierce mind that thrills me to no end. Wars have been waged for lesser women, as the buried history shows. You’re young, granted, and more than a little menace, but there’s nothing demure or ingenue about you.”
Shit. Why does his heated declaration make my toes curl? I am anything but aghast. In fact, if he were anyone else, I would throw myself in his arms right away.
“Last but not least, when I will eventually fuck you…”
“If… you mean if,” I say. My voice is weak as I try to swallow my nerves.
His gaze narrows on my throat, and he leans in impossibly closer, our mouths so near, they’re almost touching. “When.” It’s a no-nonsense statement that makes my thighs clench together.
“The last thing on your mind will be our age difference. You will be too engrossed in how my cock fills you up entirely, pleasure devouring you from the inside out. My millennium might seem gross to you now, but when you’ll be screaming my name to the unholy Gods and beyond, you’ll be thanking them for what my one thousand years of experience can do to you.”
I gulp. Yes, I fucking gulp, like a virginal teenager. What the fuck is wrong with me?
