“Humans are disrespectful by nature.” My voice is low, but he nods. His face holds a bit of disgust. He hates to be around mortals, but came for me. To celebrate a human holiday because I find the idea of Valentine’s Day quite adorable. That, and he loves his macabre gift of a steel blade he can attach to the end of his finger like a claw. It’s silly, totally unnecessary for a vampire, but it inspired him to make a reservation for this romantic dinner. “They hold no qualms in trying to bed a taken male or female, my love. No honor. No code.”

“That they are,” I say as he pulls me a little closer, his arm wrapping around my midsection. His need to feel skin on skin rivals mine, and I sigh when he places a chaste kiss on the nape of my neck.

The hostess leads us to a table set for two near the back with the dark night sky as our backdrop. The windows are open, and the moon is high—the stars light up the dark abyss above while I sit in the chair he pulls out for me. We ignore the hostess and her idiocy. The placement of my husband’s menu across the table and away from me is not lost on either of us.

Nor is her scent. The differences that let her fit in amongst those in the city.

“Is this table to your liking, Sir?” the woman asks, moving closer to his side, but before she can place a hand on my mate’s arm, he has her wrist in his hold. Had we been anywhere else, he wouldn’t hesitate to break it, but for now I’m satisfied by the subtle crunch of bones and her yelp. “Sir, you’re—”

“Never touch me,” my husband hisses out, the command of a king, eyes flashing red while she begins to shake. His fangs descend for a second, piercing the gums while she watches in fear. “Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll have your head on a spike outside the palace walls. Now, go back to the front and don’t come back.”

“My apologies.”

“Not accepted, hybrid.”

“How?” the hostess asks me while holding her wrist against her chest, voice trembling. She knew who we were. “No one here—”

“Silence.” Her immediate compliance to my demand is false, belittled by her earlier behavior. Stupid and idiotic; I study her for a few minutes, stretching out the silence while she shifts nervously, a whimper escaping her. “Name.”

“Elise.”

“Elise what?” my husband asks, even though I have an idea of who her father is. Even though half human, her essence is reminiscent of his. Earthy, but mixed with roses to enhance her femininity.

“Veltross. My name is Elise Veltross.”

“The daughter of one of my generals. One who would be embarrassed by your behavior and punish you just as swiftly.” Coincidence, or…? my mate asks through our link, tilting his head while studying her. Have you spoken to Isabella?

“Yes.” Eyes on the ground, she takes a step back. “I’m very sorry.”

We’re to meet tomorrow afternoon. “You let your human side overpower and disgrace our very nature and laws, Miss Veltross.” Eyes narrowed, I watch her through slits while clutching the napkin in my hand. I’m not buying her sudden contrite act, nor do we trust her father. He’s a good general but thinks too highly of himself and his position. “How dare you try and touch my mate and your king.”

“I was being—”

“You speak when spoken to. Understood?”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Do not step a single foot out of line, Elise. This is my only warning.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Leave.”

“Thank you, My Queen.” Elise scurries off and doesn’t look back, hiding up front while I am served dinner by an older gentleman and my husband watches me eat. It’s something he enjoys, to sit and quietly observe while I return the favor when he hunts. When he lets nature take its rightful place and he momentarily satiates the never-ending thirst.

My king has great control over his impulses. He only kills to eat, as any hunter would do.

It’s his nature to kill and drink. It’s sexy to watch him overpower his prey.

Like the man from last night, a drunk imbecile who thought it prudent to grab my wrist and yank me back, but before I could slam my elbow in his face, my husband had him by the neck with his feet dangling above the ground.

No mercy. No hesitation as he ran a metal nail—a humorous gift I had made for him—from one side of the man’s neck as if he were a chicken at a slaughterhouse. His eyes were an angry ruby red as the demon within him took control. Absolutely glorious to watch, a true aphrodisiac as he buried his fangs deep into the man’s neck and drained him of every drop of blood within his dead veins.

It was messy and angry, and my thighs clenched then as they do now with the memory, an action my husband catches. His nostrils flare and eyes become darker—hooded and hungry. A little feral, and I lick the last bite of my dessert sensually from the spoon.

A move he follows with a different unrestrained hunger.

“Two minutes, Gabriella.”

“Two minutes?” I ask, feigning an ignorance that makes him flash those sharp fangs at me. He’s yet to turn me at my request; my sister and I are bound by loyalty to our people after the death of our parents, but the time to crown a new ruler has come and our baby brother is now of age. He’ll be fair. He’ll do right by the throne while my sister and I follow two different paths.

One with a werewolf.

One with a vampire.

“Run, pretty girl.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I taunt, leaning over to nip his jaw. “Now close your eyes and count to sixty. Come find me if you can.”

“Are you challenging your king?”

“Always, love. Always.”

33

Gabriella

I

wake up panicked, a scream caught in my throat while a bit disoriented. There’s someone pounding on both the front door and back, multiple voices yelling, and then the wood splinters as they’re kicked open.

“What the fuck?” As I say this, my home becomes crowded by officers aiming their guns at my head, shouting orders that I don’t understand. It all feels like gibberish, like a Peanuts cartoon until I’m yanked up and thrown to the ground by a man twice my weight and pinned, hands pulled behind my back at an awkward angle.

It hurts. My head is fuzzy.

I’m lost between that dream, how real it felt compared to this, and I can’t make heads or tails of anything. Was that real and this is the dream? Why am I being arrested?

“Get off me,” I manage to squeak after a minute, lifting my head enough to take in the scene around me. They are trashing my house. The pictures on the walls are being torn down while the furniture is kicked over by a man and woman who I’m starting to loathe.

Her I don’t know, but Consuelos has become a familiar face.

“What are you doing to my house, Detective?” My voice rings out clear through the chaos, and all movements cease. “What right do you have to do this?”

Consuelos stops what he’s doing and walks over, pausing two steps from me. “You’re under investigation for the disappearance of Elise Scott, Miss Moore. We are placing you under—”

“Where’s the signed warrant from a judge?” I interrupt, knowing my rights. This is the third attempt to trample on them. “Why haven’t my rights been read, or the paperwork shown?”