Demander (verb) to demand

After our feeding, I grew drowsy and fell into a fitful sleep that stretched well into the afternoon. My dreams were peppered with thoughts of my mission, Bastien, and this unsatisfied need he'd left me with.

When I awoke, my back and neck aching from laying in one place too long, my thoughts were still a tangled mess. All night, I'd imagined a vampire doing lurid things to me I should be ashamed of.

Mama would be furious to know I'd been so captivated by a vampire. Pining over a man who was friends with the very witches who killed Gran.

It should be easy for me to turn off whatever desire had been turned on inside me.

So why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

I laid in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, trying to sort out my thoughts, and I kept coming back to one thing. Ever since I could remember, I'd never felt desired.

And not just from men. My family didn't desire my presence and had deemed me unfit to be of any use to their means except as bait.

But Bastien desired me. Last night, he'd told me he needed me.

Something dark unfurled inside me again.

Under the covers, my hand traveled to my thigh, just above the place he'd bitten me. I found no wound, just some tenderness. All evidence that he'd drank from me was gone, but still, I was plagued with thoughts of the unsatisfied ache in my core.

An ache put there by him.

I blew out a long breath. It didn't matter if no one but Bastien desired me. I didn't come here to be wooed. A long time ago, I'd accepted my fate as a spinster. I came here to find out what he knew and help my family destroy the dark witch's source of power.

They needed me much more than some vampire did.

"I need to stop thinking about him," I whispered into the still air.

I yawned, stretching above my head and forcing myself into a seated position, when suddenly I realized I wasn't alone.

I yelped in surprise at the sight of Bastien still sitting in the chair, cradling a book in his long fingers. A smirk twisting up his lips.

By Diana's light, he'd heard me say I need to stop thinking about him.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. This was worse than my moan of pleasure last night. This was admitting that I couldn't get him out of my head.

I wanted to bury myself under the covers, but pride and anger kept me sitting upright.

Didn't he have something better to do than watch me sleep? He was the leader of a host of vampires. Couldn't he bother them with his frustrating presence?

He set the book down and rose from the chair, picking up his cane as he approached me. He'd changed into different clothes: a fitted black riding coat buttoned over a white frock shirt. His long legs clad in riding trousers and tall boots.

Had I not known Bastien to be one of the twelve vampire princes that held castles and ruled over this land, I wouldn't have believed it. No jewels or gold chains adorned his clothes.

While there was nothing princely about his attire, I couldn't deny there was a certain regal aire about him.

Blonde hair fell around his face, framing a strong jaw and soft lips. I knew just how soft those lips were. Hours ago, they'd been on my skin. Pressed against my trembling thigh.

I swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe. I had to stop letting thoughts of last night control me. He was nothing to me. Nothing but a means to an end.

When Bastien stopped at my bedside, I leaned back against my pillow, gripping the sheets and lifting them to my chin to cover myself.

As if the vampire hadn't seen more than his share of me last night.

I wondered if he wanted another feeding. Why else would he linger?

"Can I help you, my lord?"

He contemplated me for a moment. Tilting his head to one side and letting his icy blue eyes slide down my frame in a way that set my core on fire.

With his hands folded atop his cane, Bastien said, "I'm not here because I want something. I'm here because...after our feeding, you fell asleep so quickly—" His sentence ended abruptly, and he glanced over his shoulder. "I was concerned."

Concerned. I turned that word over in my head. Was Bastien trying to say he'd been worried about me?

No, that couldn't be true. He didn't care about anyone. If he did, he would hold the dark witches accountable for their crimes. But something in his eyes told me that, against all odds, he did care about me. Even if he didn't want to.

I didn't know what to say. I'd always been a burden. No one wasted their time worrying about me. Having someone care was strange, and I was unaccustomed to this kind of attention.

So I dismissed it. "You didn't need to stay. I'm fine."

He gave the barest shake of his head. Jaw clenched.

"You misunderstand me," he said through his teeth. "I needed to stay. Had to stay. You are mine to protect. Mine to care for." Each word was clipped and came out as if he wished they weren't true. I gripped the bedsheets tighter. "Your health and welfare are my responsibility." He cleared his throat, then tapped his cane against the wood floors. "As part of our contract, of course."

As part of our contract. Of course.

The laws. He was here out of obligation, not out of need or care. I was a burden to him, too. Wasn't I?

He never wanted me in the first place. This was all...obligation.

That realization helped put things in perspective, and I was able to set aside the way he was looking at me and the warm heat pulsing between my legs.

"Oh," I responded offhandedly, tucking a strand of wild lilac hair behind my ear. I sat up taller, pulling the sheet up with me. "Well, as you can see, I'm quite well. If not a little hungry. Don't feel like you need to keep concerning yourself with me."

He pressed his lips together as if to say he disagreed with my response but kept whatever he was thinking behind his sharp teeth.

Instead, he offered me the glass of water on my bedside table. I stared at it for a moment before taking it.

"I'll have food brought up. You need to eat," Bastien said.

I drank a sip of cool water, letting it wet my dry throat. "Thank you."

Bastien nodded once before strolling to the door with his cane tucked under his arm. When he reached the handle, he stopped and cast a look over his shoulder.

I lifted my eyebrows, wondering what else the vampire wanted to say and wished he would leave.

"After you finish eating, Sheeresa will attempt to remove that cursed necklace."

Remove Mama's necklace?

At the suggestion, the glass slipped from my hand, rolling off the bed and crashing to the floor.

"No," I argued, clutching the lace choker as if to prove I wasn't trying to betray my promise. I was doing what had been asked of me to the best of my ability.

Even if my mother wouldn't agree.

I forced myself to stare at my quilt as shame welled inside me, absently picking at a thread to release my anxiety in some way. On the heels of my dream, my mother's voice was loud inside my head, criticizing me for being such a foolish girl and a pitiful excuse for a Proctor woman.

If she were here, she'd ask me what she'd done to deserve a magickless daughter like me.

I wouldn't have an answer. Only an apology. I was so sorry I wasn't the witch she'd hoped I'd be.

Bastien was back at my side in a blink. The vampire moved so fast it still surprised me. He brought his face close to mine, leaning on the bed. "Tell me who did this to you and why you're so afraid of removing it."

His voice was a rough scrape over my skin. A demand.

I fell back on the lie Mama had told me to say if this question was asked of me.

"I do not know their name," I stammered, "only that I bought it willingly and didn't ask many questions past how it worked," I drew in a stuttering breath, bowing my head and forcing myself to say the next part, "because, I am not very...bright."

I blinked back my hurt at being commanded to say I wasn't intelligent, but if Mama thought I wasn't smart, then it must be true.

"The vampire is a disgusting beast," Mama had said, "but he's not stupid. He'll see that you aren't very bright. It will make sense that a foolish human girl like yourself could stupidly buy a magickal necklace without asking questions."

I heard a crack, like the sound of wood splintering, and when I found the strength to look up, I found Bastien had gripped the bedpost so tight he'd crushed the wood into pulp.

His face was just as monstrous as when he transformed into a vampire, but without the shadows.

My eyes widened, unsure why he was suddenly so furious.

"Tell me who put these ideas in your head," he demanded, causing the fine hairs on my arms to rise. "Was it the convent sisters?"

I said nothing. Pressing my lips together until they hurt.

"If it was the sisters," he continued, seething, "I'll shutter that damned place. I don't need the Nightfall Convent to help me protect war orphans if this is the result. I'll do it myself."

He threw his cane across the room, and it smashed a porcelain pitcher. I recoiled into the covers, but the vampire wasn't done. He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving.

"Give me a name," he said, "and I will have them excommunicated from the faith."

My gaze left his face, traveling to the shattered pitcher and the broken bedpost. Why was he so mad? I didn't understand.

I wasn't very bright. Otherwise, Diana wouldn't have shunned me. There was a reason I wasn't given the gift of magick. It was difficult to admit, but there was no other explanation for why my hair was lilac and why I couldn't cast spells.

And, oh, how that truth burned in the back of my throat like hot tears. But I swallowed them back. Forcing myself to confront Bastien.

"No one put the idea in my head," I told him, closing my eyes and turning toward the fire. Clutching my throat. This was my burden, because I was so useless.

Bastien cupped my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. I didn't find anger in his eyes, but something else. Something that I couldn't explain but that melted into me.

"Anyone with eyes can see that you are very bright, and I will not tolerate you calling yourself anything less in my presence. Do you understand me?"

His hand traveled to my cheek, more tenderly holding me. I didn't move. Didn't dare to breathe. He was so close.

"Secondly, the wounds behind that choker are deep and must be cleaned." When I tried to protest, he shook his head. "How you can do as much as you have since the night of the Sangination Ball is no small miracle."

It wasn't a miracle. It was magick. Sera's spell.

She was out there, somewhere, trusting me to be the older sister she needed.

His thumb stroked over my cheek as he continued. "You don't need to be scared of me or these women. But you do need to be honest. If not with me, then with the witches, as to the spell used to bind the necklace, so they can help you."

Help me?

Whatever warmth had been building between us a moment ago froze like ice. He wanted me to be honest to strange witches who likely conspired to murder my Gran? The ones who would kill Sera on sight?

Not a chance.

These were witches who consorted with demons, and everyone knew demons were evil and couldn't be trusted.

Bastien was the one not being honest with me. He wanted to learn more about my necklace and was manipulating my emotions to accomplish that goal. That's all this was. A skillful interrogation.

I gathered my nerve and pushed his hand off my face.

"Those witches are evil, and their magick is rooted in demonic power. I want nothing to do with them."

He growled, but I didn't move. I had to remain strong.

"You will let them clean the wounds," he said, rising to his feet. At his full height, Bastien towered over me. "If they fester and pollute your blood, we'll both be out of luck."

I scrambled to my knees to match his height, dropping the sheet I had clutched in my fists. "I will clean them myself."

He leaned in. Too close. His breath kissing my cheeks. "You are stubborn."

I was painfully aware of what his closeness did to my body, and was helpless to stop my nipples from pinching against the cotton shift.

I set my hand on his hard chest and pushed him back an inch. Relieving myself of his delicious woodsy scent and the feel of his breath against my skin.

"You're the one who told me it was foolish to dabble in magick, my lord."

After a few tense moments where nothing was said and the only sound was our heaving breaths and the crackle of the fire, Bastien snatched up the cane he'd dropped and straightened his jacket.

"Fine. Protect whoever did this to you," he said, wagging the end of his cane at me. "But the wounds must be cleaned, and Shreesa will be the one to do it."

We love a protective mate 👏

Also, this is my favorite part of an enemies to lovers story. When they start getting mad that they can't stop thinking about the other person. It's the best.

I'll let you ask me a question this time! Drop your questions here, and I'll answer them!