“Are you hungry?” Trystan asks as he sidles closer to me.
I give him a narrow-eyed look as my stomach growls. “Not for you,” I chide him. “Your blood is too powerful for me.”
“It’s me or nothing,” he says smugly.
I worry slightly why he is so eager, but I can’t deny that I am tempted. I am starving. All the commotion has taken it out of me.
Trystan sits next to me on the bed and offers me his wrist. “Drink,” he whispers. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
I roll my eyes at him but grip his wrist anyway. I drop my fangs and he hisses in pain as I bite into him. It quickly turns to pleasure and he sighs in bliss. That’s when I decide I need to pull back. It’s too awkward. It’s too late though as Trystan leans into me and pushes me back to the bed. His arousal is quite apparent, and I wiggle underneath him to try and get him off me.
“Stop,” I say forcefully.
“Give it to me,” he slavers into my ear. “I know you want it, or you wouldn’t have riled me up with your bite.”
“You offered!” I exclaim indignantly.
“And you accepted,” he says, sliding his hand underneath the voluminous folds of my Drake-summoned gown.
“Argh!” I cry out, pushing against him to try and get him to move. How is he so strong? Or how am I so weak? I am still a thousand and three-year-old Vampire for fuck’s sake. He is a nineteen-year-old Faerie. I should be able to take him easily.
“Get off,” I cry out and to my relief, the door opens. I expect him to move any second now, but he stays where he is, glancing at the door and then back at me before he lowe
rs his mouth to mine.
“Pleh,” I splutter, twisting my head to the side, mainly to get away from his mouth, but also to see who isn’t helping me.
I grit my teeth as I see it is Graven, the eldest of my Fae half-brothers. No wonder Trystan is still writhing on top of me, making grunts of pleasure and closing his eyes in delight.
“Help me!” I shout at Graven, but he just smirks at me and folds his arms across his chest.
I manage to get my legs free enough from the tangle of skirts and Trystan’s legs, to kick him away briefly. He grunts in pain but then he is off me in a flash of Dark Fae magick that I am forever grateful for. Even though it comes from my wicked stepmother.
“Get out,” Maurelle snarls at both her boys.
Trystan, with his whole face as red as a tomato having been caught trying to rape me, disappears quicker than I can blink. Graven, on the other hand, takes his time in leaving.
“He was only trying to pop his cherry,” he laughs. “She asked for it.”
“What!” I shout out, standing up and almost tripping over my stupid dress.
“You fed from him, what else were you expecting?” Graven asks, giving Maurelle a triumphant look before he stalks off to leave me with that to deal with.
“Stay away from my son,” she growls at me, coming closer but not attempting my murder.
“He offered,” I say lamely. “And I am hungry. Whatever Anders did to me has made me weak.”
She sneers at me. “I will not have my youngest son tainted by the likes of you. You are a little whore that spreads her legs for anyone who asks.”
I gape at her. “How dare you?” I hiss at her. “He attacked me, and besides which, he is my brother! Are you sick?”
“Brother?” she scoffs. “No one sees it like that, except perhaps your misguided father. I see you for what you really are.”
“Which is what exactly?” I challenge her.
“A power-hungry whore, just like your mother,” she responds vehemently.
“I am nothing like Her,” I spit out, offended that she thinks I am anything like Tiamat. “If this is about your daughter, you can be rest assured she is free to be the chosen one, handed off to Anders to breed little half-bloods for you and your people. I am done with that.”