Fire of Stars and Dragons (9 page)

“Is this what you wanted, to see me this way?” I spin around, finding the king closer than I thought. An old pair of gray Boston Celtics sweats and a worn green ‘Get Lucky’ t-shirt with the shamrock faded make him look as if he just rolled out of bed, except for his styled-to-perfection hair. “Oliver said you refused my invitation. Had I been informed you had changed your mind, I would have prepared for your arrival.”

I bat my eyelashes, giving a coy smile, and he takes a step closer. “Oh, Your Highness, you flatter me… but I grew up with a vampire and know better than to believe any ‘I didn’t give you time to change clothes’ nonsense. All you needed was five seconds, if that.”

He laughs, those slate blue eyes inspecting me again, much like in court yesterday, and I drop the act, stiffening under his gaze. “You may call me Corrin when we are alone, Cait.”

“When did I say you could call me Cait?” I snark at him, annoyed by how nice he smells when standing so close, and by the smattering of light freckles across his nose and cheeks that become visible as he leans toward me. Jerks aren’t supposed to have adorable freckles.

“I proposed marriage to you. It seems only fitting I be permitted such informal address, just as I am allowing you,
Cait
.” He emphasizes my name, and I glare in response.

“You didn’t
propose
anything, Corrin. You claimed me like a piece of property, like you were buying a car.”

The ancient vampire runs a cool finger down my cheek, a dangerous crooked smile playing at his lips. “Is it so different for me now? I chose you, and yet here I am, required to meet your qualifications. Do you blame me, desiring at least a taste, seeing if you are worth all this trouble?”

Fangs dropping make an unmistakable ‘snicking’ sound when you’re close enough, and by all means, he’s close enough as his smile widens, revealing the two pearly white, lethally elongated canines. I inhale, quick and sharp, but Corrin is gone with a snarl, a growl, and a heavy thud.

“Retract those fangs before I defang you, foolish boy.” Theo looms over Corrin, hand around his neck. I would have sworn vampires can’t pale in fear like humans, but I would be wrong.

Sir Oliver stands beside them, appearing a bit stricken by the turn of events. It’s not likely anyone could pry my dragon’s hand off the king’s throat without taking his head off, too. “Brother, do you find that necessary? I believe Corrin was merely making a point.”

Theo shudders, breaths heavy and violent, shaking his entire body, and I feel a tad bit sorry for the vampire because I’m sure my guardian dragon is on the verge of shifting and going full-blown, destroyer-of-dark-souls on His Majesty’s fanged stupidity.

“He was making a point alright,” I add to the conversation. “Pointing his fangs at me.” I glare at the other dragon, who gives me a rather dour expression, reminding me of Mr. McCurdy, and I roll my eyes, looking down to Corrin, still wide-eyed and sprawled out on his back in a very un-majestic manner. “Is it true you’re sick?”

His mouth opens, but only a choked attempt at speaking comes out. “Where did you hear such a thing?” asks Sir Oliver.

I ignore him and keep my eyes on the king. “People talk. People watch you. People notice everything about you, Corrin. Did you think no one would see something’s been off lately? You’re making fewer public appearances, and when you do, you’re moodier, stiffer, paler. Up close, I can see your eyes aren’t as white as they should be, and have the beginnings of starvation translucence. Did you think that, being raised by a vampire, I didn’t know what to look for to get the answers I wanted?” He stares up at me and closes his mouth again, fangs still down. “Theo, let him go.”

Theo turns his attention on me so fast his head could snap loose. “What? Are you out of your mind?”

“That’s always a possibility, but just do it anyway.”

He releases the king, hesitating, but he does, standing, eyes on me. “You’re sure?” I nod. “I’m not leaving you alone with him, Cait.”

I look around the apartment, laid out identical to mine across the hall. “Fine. You two stay right here, and we’ll go in the kitchen… for privacy. And I do mean
stay right here
.”

Corrin gets on his feet, warily watching my dragon and me, his own dragon stepping nearer to him as Theo’s glare darkens. “If anything happens I do not like, Cait, I will not hesitate in destroying him. Nothing you say will stop me.”

“Has anyone ever mentioned you have anger management issues, Theo?” I ask, walking into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Why did you stop him?” Corrin is right behind me when I turn around, making sure we’re out of sight behind the cabinets. “Wards should trust their dragons’ instincts to protect them.”

“Because I know you’re sick. And I think that’s why you wanted me here.” He won’t meet my eyes once I say it, but stands up straighter, taller, as if proving he’s strong and healthy. “Don’t bother, Corrin. When was the last time you fed?” No answer. “Is that what this is about?” Nothing. “Do you need to feed specifically from me for some reason?”

“Are you offering?” His eyes fall on mine, a soft blue-gray.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

He licks his lips, fangs still down, hunger in his eyes—a need he’s holding back. “Specifically, any woman I am willing to take as my wife, as a mate. The ‘who’ does not matter.”

“Oh.” The word escapes in a slow exhale. “Mating sickness. Uncle Thomas didn’t believe it happened anymore, but he told me a little about it.”

“It is rare. The eldest of us are most prone to the condition, and if you know your sovereign history then you know Clan Corrigan’s as well.”

Hunger lingers in his stare, and I do know. I know I’m faced with a son of the oldest known clan in the world, the original blood-turned vampire family, unique even among their own culture. Their existence is a defining piece of vampire history affecting every one of them in modern society, and it affected my uncle in a multitude of ways.

The translucence tainting the whites of his eyes, the hunger haunting them.… It may be rare, but even at three hundred and ninety-three, this could have been Uncle Thomas, suffering a slow and agonizing death. Although, I suppose many could argue the king deserves such a fate: a fate as inhumane as his treatment of others. Still…

“All it takes is
your
willingness to make it work.” Corrin’s eyes narrow, full of suspicion, forcing me to elaborate. “I’m asking if you were
willing
to marry me, for me to be your mate, and then you fed from me, my blood wouldn’t make you sick, even if I ended up choosing another husband?”

“I believe so.” He answers in a careful monotone.

I’m not the judge of his soul, and I won’t allow his inhumanity to be the undoing of my own.

“Okay then.”

“Okay?” Corrin’s confused expression is quite adorable, much like his freckles.

“You will not have sex with me. You will only feed when I allow it, for as long as I allow it, but I’ll permit it to keep you from dying.” His mouth falls open. “Don’t feel special or anything, Corrin. I couldn’t stand by and let anyone just
die
knowing I could have saved them. But when I make up my mind and choose whom to marry, this is over. You understand?”

A small smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “What if you choose me?”

For a microsecond, his words hit me hard, but I recover. “Don’t get your hopes up, you arrogant bastard. You’ve got your work cut out for you if you have any ideas of that happening.”

*Corrin*

I find her seemingly selfless act quite admirable, albeit questionable. How she can make such an offer, yet give every indication she finds me repulsive, lends credence to the idea that her motivation is less charitable than it appears at first glance. I have no doubt she wants something of me, but if it means my continued survival, I cannot imagine a price I would not pay.

“Perhaps we should take this to my room. Feeding is a private matter.”

Cait glares at me. “I don’t think so. First of all, I stated ‘no sex,’ and that idea screams of rule-breaking little tricks. Secondly, I have a dragon on the other side of these cabinets just itching to have your head on a silver platter, so don’t push your luck.”

Rather perplexed by this woman, I simply blink and regroup my thoughts. She is quite frustrating. “Do you suggest I bite you, and drink from you as if you are no more meaningful to me than a bottle of juice would be to you?” I find it apparent she has not thought this through, as she takes too much time to answer. “Cait,” I whisper in her ear, trailing a finger over her shoulder, then along her collarbone to her neck as I walk around behind her. “A vampire’s bite can be either quite painful or quite pleasurable.” Sweeping the hair off her neck, I press my lips to her skin, feeling the strong pulse beneath, hearing her sharp breath at my action. “And I have a great deal of experience ensuring mine is quite pleasurable.”

“I’m not one of those tramps you parade in here, thinking nobody knows what you use them for,” she says quietly, and I run my nose down her cheek, inhaling her scent. Lavender and the essence of a desirable woman, not a whore.

“For certain, that is not what I expect of you, Cait.” I run my fingers across the back of her neck, under her hair, gliding them along the edge of the sweater she wears, and using my other hand to grasp her arm, I pull her back toward me. The movement sets her off balance, and she reaches out to grab hold of the counter, but I slip my hand down her arm, taking hers in mine, steadying her against my body. “I did not ask you to be my courtesan. I asked you to be my wife, my mate.”

The words come out of their own volition, not my intent to say them, yet deep inside, something unfamiliar stirs at the idea, the scent of her, the feel of her body, the softness of her skin.

“I just offered to keep you alive, Corrin.”

My grip on her collarbone tightens, but not painfully so. “At least allow me to make the experience enjoyable.” Not waiting for a response, I lean into her, working my mouth along the bare skin revealed by the sweater’s wide neckline, kissing and nipping and then returning with slow, languid ease to her neck, leaving a final, sensual teasing bite at her earlobe, gentle in the use of my fangs, not wishing to puncture her perfect skin quite yet.

Breath unsteady, pulse quickened—I know these undeniable signs of arousal despite her denial of attraction.

“Is this the way you pleasure your whores, Your Majesty? You take them from behind, and refuse to look them in the eyes?”

Cait is all too correct in her assumptions. They are cutting remarks to hear from her mouth, without hearing my name when she speaks, and I turn her around, meeting her blue eyes, letting her see my want of her, my need for her. “I spared them the disinterest they would see. The truth that I would never care, never truly want them.”

I run a hand up the back of her neck, clenching my fingers in her long dark hair, turning her head, exposing her neck, my voice dropping low as I run my nose along her jaw, inhaling her intoxicating scent with possessive need. “You think I could not care for you.”

“No.” She whispers the single, wounding word. “I don’t think you could love me.”

My fangs grazing along her neck, my free hand pulls her body against mine as I shift my feet between hers, a small voice in the back of my mind chattering on, telling me I should stop, that this is not what I want. Rational thought says this is the only key to survival, but none of this is rational. Giving in to these urges, this desire to mate, allowing the intimacy I crave but refuse creates dangerous unknowns, yet I find my hands on her back and in her hair with minds of their own—wanting, needing.

My mouth finds hers, passionate, urgent, my fangs nipping at her tongue, and she runs it along the length of one, eliciting a sensuous, rumbling growl from my chest. Her hesitating, timid actions tell me she has never kissed a vampire before, but her every move incites a deeper need within me, and my kiss becomes nothing I’ve permitted with other women, relishing the slightest touch and shift of her body, exciting a new wave of desire for more. Cait’s response surprises me: her soft moans, heavy breaths, and quickened pulse fuel my urges and cravings.

She tilts her head, leaving no question of the invitation offered, the permission given. This isn’t the vampiric art of seduction—the blood and sex, hand-in-hand, with which I’m familiar. Cait wants to protect me for some unknown reason, and I find myself wanting far more, though I run my tongue over her pulse point, willing to accept what she is willing to give… for now.

“Cait.” It comes out as a breath rather than a word, causing a shiver to run through her, one I’d like to believe comes from desire for me, just before I prick her skin, my fangs sinking into her flesh, taking time to savor this gift, the taste of her blood.

For the first time in months, the taste is divine, a pure decadent indulgence satiating the gnawing hunger of death, and as I feel her hands touching the back of my neck, fingers stroking my short hair, I know it is more than her blood I need to survive.

Cait is so confident that I am not the one, but I will find a way. She
will
choose me.

Chapter 7

*Cait*

As if walking across campus wasn’t bad enough with all the gawking and ogling, Theo spoke to my professor and got permission to stand at the front corner of the lecture hall where he could monitor the entire room and its entry points. He didn’t ‘ask’ so much as he handed her one of his Dracopraesi business cards, shiny black with sleek metallic green script, then informed her where he would be and what he would be doing.

Right after she picked her jaw up off the floor, she agreed, only requesting to ask him a few questions later about dragon personality and developmental psychology. Theo agreed then proceeded to stand his dark wash jean, black boot, tight black t-shirt, and black leather jacket-clad self in the room, never removing his dark sunglasses, and garnering the attention of every female and more than a few males.