Nino inhales sharply, his eyes flashing open and burning brightly from the vivid dream.

He can’t catch his breath. Wild confusion grips his mind until he registers his surroundings. He’s inside his private guest room at Hertsmonceux, lying on his back against the cool sheets as his heart beats wildly in his chest. His shaft is fully erect. Painfully.

He slows his breathing and carefully shifts onto his stomach. Once there, he relaxes. His face pressed into the pillow, he groans—the loudness of it effectively muffled in the silent room. Turning his head to the side, he closes his eyes and continues breathing in and out. After a moment, his body unwinds.

While he lies there surrounded by cold stone walls, old portraits of strangers and dusty, intricately woven tapestries, his mind drifts back to everything that happened in this singular day. Calling it eventful feels drastically insufficient. Like calling the Taj Mahal a “nice building.”

He thinks back to the image of Haruka in his classic black suit, standing with perfect posture at the head of the ballroom as he reads the confirmation contract. The chandelier lights are cast low, creating soft shadows all around. The audience is silent, hanging on to his every deep, eloquent word as if he were singing a soothing lullaby. It was mesmerizing, not boring like Nino had genuinely anticipated.

“Old blood,” Nino sighs, shifting his belly against the mattress. Ancient vampire blood does something. It has an impact. The deep, genetic origins of their race call out, demanding reverence and submission. But in Nino’s eyes, that cannot be used as an excuse for acting like a mindless pervert.

When Haruka had completed his reading and sat down beside Nino, his friend had been unexpectedly modest. “Do you think it was sufficient?” Haruka had asked, blinking his chocolate-brown eyes.

Nino had smiled, amazed at his quiet uncertainty. “I think it was perfect.”

But then a barrage of syrupy compliments were poured over Haruka. Remembering it now makes Nino’s skin crawl.

And there was yet another circumstance that had dramatically turned his stomach earlier tonight.

Gael had watched Haruka. During the bonding ritual. While he was supposed to be making love to his intended mate, his focus had been on the dark purebred at Nino’s side. The whole thing was as uncomfortable and invasive as Nino had anticipated, but the added element of Gael’s misplaced eye contact had made Nino want to scream from outrage. He could barely hold it together by the time they left the failed ceremony. Nino didn’t dare ask Haruka if he’d noticed. Of course he had.

The previous three days with Haruka had been insightful, but this fourth day was mind-blowing. And with everything else, for the first time in his life, Nino is sincerely considering offering himself. He’s dreamt about it (in color, for God’s sake). He stretches his body against the mattress as the heated images flash vividly in his mind yet again.

“Should I do this?”

He closes his eyes, his heart throbbing in his ears. He wants to help his friend, but will he seem like everyone else? If he offers himself, maybe that’s how Haruka will view him. Like some desperate horndog eager to please him.

Maybe…I could offer him bags?

Nino flips onto his side and exhales a deep breath. His glowing eyes finally burn out, returning to normal. He stares blankly at the wall in front of him.

It isn’t any of his business.

Haruka said he would figure it out once the weekend ended, so Nino should stay out of it. Haruka is an extremely capable and intelligent vampire. It isn’t Nino’s place to stick his nose in.

Just as he’s drifting off to sleep, a loud noise startles him. He sits up straight, completely still. He listens again. The moment he decides the sound must have been his imagination, he hears another muffled crash.

The noise is coming from the room next door.

Haruka’s room.

Thirteen

Haruka stands from the old, weathered desk and switches off the copper base of the oil lamp. The flame quietly extinguishes, casting the bedroom in shadows and moonlight.

He yawns. The third attempt to bond has failed. No dramatic flashes of light. No report of innate heaviness. No shared emotions or perceptions. No bond. He has updated the certificate stating as much, all the while trying to develop a valid excuse as to why he should leave this place tomorrow morning.

He wants to go home. Desperately. He needs a reprieve from the shallow fawning, the flowery honorifics and blatant stares. Something about England suddenly feels much worse than anywhere else he’s traveled. Dublin and Quebec had been pleasant. Santorini as well, aside from Haruka’s poor judgment regarding a particular vampire. He’d deemed Paris as the most pompous and challenging aristocracy, but England is quickly proving him wrong.

Perhaps their lack of indigenous purebreds fundamentally impacts their natures? British purebred vampires died out toward the end of the nineteenth century—disappeared from the earth as a result of civil wars, clan disputes and the Great Vanishing. The British aristocracy’s hypersensitivity to Haruka’s bloodline is exhausting.

He wonders if he should simply return to his own realm. It has been many, many years now, and the emotional wounds inflicted upon him have mostly scabbed over. Maybe it’s time?

Just as Haruka rests one knee atop the mattress, there’s a sharp knock on his bedroom door. It is late, and having politely circumvented Elsie’s advances earlier in the evening, he is not expecting anyone. He focuses his mind, stretching it toward the other side of the door. He inhales to identify the scent. Damp earth and tea tree. Gael.

Haruka’s body tenses, his instincts flashing bright lights of warning in his mind. The bonding ceremony had been a disaster—practically a charade. Gael was wholly unfocused on his intended mate, but Oliver seemed none the wiser. It was a perfect case of someone only seeing what they want to see, despite the obvious signs right in front of them.

Silently, Haruka moves toward the door. He’d pulled the small sliding lock after he’d entered, but the wood of the framing is warped and ancient. There is absolutely no reason for Gael to be here at this time of night. Anything he needs can wait until morning.

He stands close to the frame, but jumps when Gael knocks louder—two curt, sharp beats with his large knuckles. Haruka waits, standing still. Barely breathing. Silence. For a long moment, they both stand like this, with Haruka sensing the commanding first-generation presence on the opposite side of the door.

Losing his patience, Haruka turns to walk away.

“Asao—”

There is a loud crash, and Haruka isn’t sure what’s hit him first as his body lunges forward—the broken wood of the door or Gael’s massive form. Before he can even blink, his body is slammed down hard into the stone floor, an unbearable pressure heavy against his back and restraining his movement. Haruka chokes. Thick fingers are gripping and wrapping tightly against the back of his neck.

Clenching his eyes shut, he tries to push himself up, but Gael is too heavy, too imposing over his leaner frame. Haruka’s ear is pressed against the cold stone as Gael grips his neck even tighter, making him lose his breath from the intense burn of it.

“Meu lindo, me mostre o livro,” he whispers, his deep voice threatening but teasing. Evocative. His breath is damp and hot against his ear. Haruka thrashes as Gael drags his rough, wet tongue up the side of his face—like an animal tasting its prey. Staking its claim.

Beautiful, show me the book.

Haruka’s eyes shift, burning fierce against the darkness as he concentrates. He unravels the heavy knot of his aura in his core, willing it to flourish and come alive.

Defensively pushing his energy outward like this, in a castle full of hungry, shameless vampires, isn’t wise. If the scent of his unique nature attracts the others, there is no way Haruka can defend himself from multiple assailants in his current state. He hasn’t fed from another purebred in years, and it’s been six days since his last bag from Elsie.

But what other choice does he have?

Haruka focuses and manipulates his energy deep within him, allowing it to rush from his core and tightly wrap itself around Gael’s body. The enormous vampire tenses from the subjugation, but digs his fingernails deep into Haruka’s neck. Haruka winces, the pain searing hot as Gael scratches his flesh. Haruka pushes his energy even further, strictly holding Gael and shifting him up so that he can move from underneath his weight.

He quickly crawls away from his attacker’s frozen, elevated frame and moves toward the wall. Gael is physically powerful—the mass of him substantial in Haruka’s mind. This isn’t like quickly shifting his energy outward to stop the young Amelia in Oxford. That had been like holding and restraining a fawn with his psyche. This… this is restraining an angry bull.

Gael’s eyes are frantic. Haruka can’t subdue him completely and already his throat feels raw, his chest aching from breathing heavily. He’s too weak. He reaches up, touching the wetness of blood trailing down into his shirt. His body’s healing capabilities are also failing. What the hell am I going to do?

And where is Asao? His essence has been exposed for at least a minute now, he needs to do something before—

Haruka’s glowing eyes widen. He draws further into the wall as Gael independently moves his fingers, breaking through the defense. Haruka narrows his eyes, trying to wrap his essence even tighter around him. But soon, Gael jerks his neck, eerily craning it toward him.

“Asao!” Haruka calls out, louder this time.

There’s a sound by the door. Haruka looks up, hoping to see his manservant. But Nino is standing there, a look of unfiltered shock on his face. His expression shifts into something indiscernible as he breathes in Haruka’s flooded essence and scent. Nino’s irises flash and burn with rich golden light—like honey lit with fire. A new sense of panic fills Haruka’s entire being. He can barely subdue Gael, so there is no way in hell he can subjugate a purebred.

Like an ominous flash of lightning in a moonless sky, a singular thought cuts through the dense fog of his terrified mind.

I will die here.

Fourteen