Proposer (verb) to propose

A hushed silence fell over the room, save for beating hearts and nervous breaths.

But none of them mattered to me. Not really. Not in the way she mattered.

Claire was the curling ivy inside my heart. The gravity that held me to the ground. The moon on my darkest night.

As much as I wanted to deny her hold on me, it was real.

I was beholden to her.

And right now, the woman who had captivated all my attention was topless. Her body exposed for every wagging tongue in the room to see—including my whelp of a nephew.

A possessiveness I'd never felt before consumed me, and I was powerless to stop it.

This was my mate. She was mine to protect. The need to keep her safe from everyone was...overwhelming.

Parting the sea of people standing between me and her, I removed my jacket, then settled it over her shoulders.

Claire glared up at me, and I glared down at her. Furious that she could make me feel this way.

"My lord, the point of Dépouiller isn't to put clothes on," she said, trying to sound sweet despite how angry she was with me. "It's to take them off."

I caught the scent of whiskey on her breath and recognized the hazy look in her eyes.

She was drunk, even though I'd forbidden it.

"I know how the game works," I replied, trying to maintain my head.

I didn't want to play nice in front of all these people. I wanted to rage. At her. At them. At myself.

Without breaking eye contact with Claire, I told her guests that the party was over.

The room emptied quicker than if I'd announced the chateau was on fire. Men and women tripped over themselves to get dressed and get out as quickly as possible. A flutter of robes and arms rushing out the door.

All except my nephew, who sidled up beside me, clearly intoxicated.

"We were just having a bit of fun, uncle," Tyson said, clapping a hand around my shoulders. "The journey here was painfully boring. You understand, I'm sure."

My fury was a living, breathing thing. Had Tyson been anyone else besides mon sang, my blood, he'd already be dead.

My fangs lengthened, and the shadows under my eyes darkened. "If you don't want your mother to receive your severed head in a box, boy," I said around a snarl, "I suggest you shut your mouth."

The color drained from his face, but he said nothing else. Just as quickly as the others, he vacated Claire's room, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing around the room.

Once again, I found myself alone with Claire. And despite my anger, something inside me relaxed, knowing that it was just the two of us.

I drew in a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm my temper.

When I turned to face her, I found Claire angrily collecting the playing cards strewn over the table.

"Have you been harmed?" I asked. "Did he try to coerce you into anything you didn't want to do?"

If he had, even the goddess wouldn't be able to save him.

She expelled a loud breath, then marched over to where I stood and, without warning, threw the cards in my face.

They fluttered to the ground like tree leaves.

I didn't react, except to pick one of the cards from my collar and toss it on the ground.

"You are such a spoil sport!" she screamed, poking me hard in the chest. "And confusing! I mean, what is actually wrong with you?"

That was an excellent question. One that I had been asking myself ever since I'd met her, even though I knew the answer.

I folded my arms across my chest.

"You're drunk."

"And you're an ass!" she countered, poking me in the chest again.

This time, I grabbed her wrist, if only to steady her. She looked drunk enough to topple over.

"I'm the only one trying to keep you safe. You're the one disregarding your own welfare."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "We were just playing a game!"

"And drinking. Which I specifically prohibited with the harem," I reminded her.

At this, her sarcastic laughter ceased, and she poked me again with her free hand. "You can shove all your rules up your entitled ass!"

I captured her other wrist and drew Claire closer to me until her body was flush against mine, and her heat burned into me.

"Those rules are for your safety."

"That's bullshit. None of them would hurt me."

Both of us were breathing heavy, and the tension between us seemed to double when her gaze shifted down to where my bloodstone was glowing through my shirt.

Pulsing in time to her heart.

She'd been chosen for me, and I for her. I didn't know why, but it had happened all the same. We were fated.

When Claire glanced back up at me, her lips were parted, and her eyes were wide. For the first time, I wondered if she'd guessed my secret. If she knew that I was tied to her and she to me.

I'd never felt the bond between us as strongly as I did right now, and it was getting harder and harder to control my instincts.

I didn't just need her. Somewhere along the way, I'd come to enjoy her company. And, against it all, come to care for her.

Which was why it had hurt so bad when I'd seen Claire pressed this close to Alec. Her lips against his. The image was enough to cause me physical pain.

Releasing her wrists, the part of me that was hurt forced me to ask, "How did you expect that game to end?"

"In a fun way," she replied, shrugging one shoulder.

"And what would've been fun?" I asked. Each question fueled my jealousy. "Did you want him to fuck you?"

Say no. Tell me the thought disgusts you.

But she didn't. Instead, she laughed again and refused to meet my gaze. "So what if I did?"

How?

How could she even consider another man when she was mated to me? If she felt an ounce of what I felt, the idea of getting close to anyone else wouldn't be a possibility. 

I told myself to leave it alone. To walk away and let her do whatever she wanted. I couldn't give into this bond.

But I couldn't make myself leave.

I was caught between desperately wanting her and needing to be the prince who held the realm together. Who brought more humans under our protection and provided a safe haven for those who wanted peace.

Instead of being that man, I was consumed with jealousy.

"You spent thirty minutes in his company and, in that time, decide he was the first person you want to take you to bed?"

Claire set her hand on her hip, which opened my jacket further, granting me another glimpse of the swell of her breasts, which I tried my best to ignore.

"Why are you concerned with who I take to bed?"

The thought of another man between her legs, taking his pleasure with her, had my hands balling into fists. I couldn't stand it.

"Your first time should be with someone who knows more about you than your name."

The statement seemed to intrigue her.

Claire took a step closer, her brown eyes narrowed. One finger accusatorily pointed at my chest like she might poke me again.

"Why does that concern you?"

I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't. No matter how badly I wanted to. No matter how much easier it would be to explain my actions.

I'd done what no vampire was allowed to do—what no vampire should be able to do—drink from their mate. Claire wasn't just the heartbeat inside my bloodstone, she ran inside my veins.

She was everything. Everywhere. Consuming me from the inside out.

When she realized I wasn't going to answer, she came a step closer until her nail sank into my muscle. "I'll tell you why," she said, unflinching. Her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "This is payback. You hate me for making you choose me as your sanguine partner. You're punishing me."

If only I could hate her. If only I could forget about our bond. But I wasn't about to summon a god with the hope that they'd honor my request, so I was cursed with my wanting.

Slowly, I lifted a hand to her face and traced my thumb along her cheekbone. "I do not hate you."

I hoped this declaration would soften her. Hoped she'd see the torment on my face at being torn apart on the inside.

"If you don't hate me, then why are you being like this? Making up rules for me? Pushing me away only to act like this. I don't understand."

I withdrew my hand from her face and clenched it into a fist. Frustrated. Annoyed. Why was I trying to be vulnerable with her? It was foolish.

But I'd done many foolish things since meeting Claire. Including letting the next words out of my mouth.

"If you want to continue this conversation, allow me to remove the alcohol from your veins."

Her pretty lips fell open. Anger melting into shock. "Y-you can do that?" she asked.

I nodded, desperate to get close to her in the only way I could. To do something for her.

"Won't it make you drunk?"

I shook my head, allowing a smile to round my lips. "Not as drunk as you. And besides, my body processes it faster."

She considered me for a moment, then said, "Fine."

"You should lay down," I said, gesturing to the settee beside the fire. "Maybe on the—"

"I know what to do," she replied, full of drunken confidence. "This isn't my first time."

I watched her with a bemused expression on my face as she staggered toward a settee, nearly rolling an ankle when she tripped on the gauzy hem of her petticoat and stumbled forward.

"Stupid dress!"

I thought to help her, but knew she'd just rebuff me.

Letting out an exasperated huff, Claire undid the buttons on the front and let the slip of fabric fall to the ground, revealing every curve I'd been dreaming of, then collapsed on the couch, naked save for my jacket, which had fallen open, showing the swell of her breasts, a scrap of black lace covering her sex, garters holding up black thigh high stockings, and high heeled leather boots.

I wasn't much for prayers, but I said a silent one now, asking for some amount of strength because, dear gods, this wasn't fair. Why did the gods see fit to mate me to such an exquisite temptress?

I bit down on my lip, knowing I should look away, but I was unable to stop myself. Taking in each line of her body. Memorizing every inch as I stalked toward her.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Let's get this over with."

When I lowered beside the small couch, she was ready for me. Already staged in the perfect position, with her legs spread wide open. The black stocking and lace stark against the creamy color of her skin.

The scent of her arousal was so strong my cock responded in kind, thickening, and lengthening. Needing to serve its one purpose, which was to bring this woman as much pleasure as it could.

"When you've been alive as long as I have," I said, trying my best not to breathe in too deeply, "you learn there is no reason to rush every little thing."

I ran my hands up her calves, letting my palms trace the nylon stockings. Her breath hitched, and by the gods, there was no better sound on earth.

I wanted to be the one wringing every ounce of pleasure from her.

"In fact, you come to understand the best part of being alive is the anticipation."

Gripping her behind a knee, I draped one of her legs over the back of the couch and let my fingertips trail the length of her leg back down to feel for her pulse point.

I watched with pleasure as she gripped the couch, breath coming in and out, making her chest heave. Her nipples turning into tight little peaks.

Our eyes locked, and the desire to kiss her rose inside me. Especially when she wetted her lower lip.

"I'm not immortal," she said. Some of the anger in her tone had burned away. "I can't live that way, or I'd never get anything done."

I ran my fingers up and down her thigh.

"Sometimes," she said, trying to hide her gasp, "you have to...t-take action."

I lowered my lips to the sensitive flesh just below the apex of her thighs, and my mouth watered. Anticipating the taste of her blood as I transformed into the hunter that I was. Fangs lengthening.

"I'm very versed in taking action, chérie, make no mistake."

I licked her skin with long strokes of my tongue to soften it.

Her back arched, and her hip slid down an inch.

If only I could pull the lace to the side and lick her center the same way.

"Bastien, please."

I had the inkling she was asking me to do just that. But I couldn't. I was already breaking so many rules, and crossing that line would be dangerous.

"Easy, Claire," I purred, kissing her thigh once again. "I need you to hold very, very still."

Fitting one hand under her backside, I gripped her hard, lifting her to my mouth, and sank my fangs into her. Claire writhed beneath my touch, moaning softly. My eyes rolled back as the flavor of her blood coated my tongue, but I needed to focus on the alcohol, not the taste.

It took only a few minutes until her blood ran clean. Once I was done, I released my hold on her but was careful to catch the soft dribbles of red running from the already healing wound with my tongue.

The buzz of alcohol swam in my head, but I knew it would quickly pass.

But when I looked down at Claire as she lay sprawled out on the couch, her eyes were hazy, her cheeks were pink, and her breathing was shallow. I thought I hadn't done a very good job purifying her blood until I heard her speak.

"You are trying to punish me," Claire said.

She wasn't drunk. She was...turned on. Turned on by me. Something deep inside me purred with satisfaction.

This little tease was not punishment. Not compared to the sharp pain I'd felt after catching her half-naked with her lips pressed against another man's. It was the only thing I could give to her without further breaking the laws of my people.

"I swear, I am not trying to punish you."

She pushed herself into a seated position, relieving me of the sight of her wet pussy barely hiding behind her undergarments.

"Then why are you being like this? Why are you making all these unfair rules for me?"

Without the small bit of alcohol swimming in my veins, I struggled to deny her. But with it, I found myself admitting a dark truth.

Taking a seat beside her, I brushed a wild strand of her hair aside. Her brown eyes were wide. Desire blowing open dark pupils.

"I can't stand the idea of your first time being with a man who doesn't know you or care for you the way you should be cared for."

My voice was a bare whisper. Told as only dark secrets were. But it was only a half-truth.

What I truly meant was that I couldn't stand the idea of anyone else having her...but me. No one could care for her the way I could. We were bound by blood and a fated bond.

What we would share could never replicated.

For the sake of my mission, I was trying to tell myself she could be cared for well enough by others. She was right. Who she took to bed was none of my business.

But I couldn't shut off my feelings. The part of me that was mated to her wouldn't allow it.

"So this is about preserving the sanctity of my first time," she said. "Not anything else?"

It damn well wasn't about preserving her first time. It was about wanting to keep her for myself, even though I knew I couldn't. But I kept that dark truth behind my teeth.

"More or less."

The words were like sandpaper on my tongue.

Neither of us said anything for a long moment. She simply studied me, like she was trying to solve a complicated problem.

"What about you?"

Confused, I furrowed my brow. "What about me?"

Slowly, haltingly, Claire's hand found my shoulder, and she braced her weight on me as she slid her leg over my lap. Easing herself down on me. Stradling me. The tips of her breasts pressed against my shirt. My cock straining against her heat.

All I could do was look up at her like I was staring into the face of a goddess.

"You could be my first."

😱😱😱😱

GET IT CLAIRE! She's finally stepping into her power.

Bastien's tactics have backfired, and now he's going to have to eat his words. Nobody cares more about Claire than him, that is very true. If he's so concerned, he's going to need to step up! But, we all know he has some moral hang ups with giving in to the mate bond.

Who says he shoots her down? 🙋

Who says he agrees? 🙋