The Vampire King’s Captive

MARIA

Maria shifted on the bed, pulled out of sleep by a terrible nightmare.

She’d dreamt that her father, furious that she’d left him, had taken his anger out on her mother by torturing her endlessly until her mother had given up. Dead.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

Sitting up, she pushed her hair back from her face with shaky hands, dimly registering the sheets falling to her thighs because her nerves were frayed, her thoughts and feelings all over the place from the activities of the day-and the past week if she was being completely honest.

From being captured by her father-she was not going to dwell on how ironic that was-to discovering that the girl in the cell next to her’s was the vampire’s sister-who she now knew his name was Bran-to being freed by said vampire, then to his sister being taken from him again.

Honestly, she felt bad for him.

So bloody guilty because it was all her fault and she should be the one paying for it. Not his sister.

It was her that had killed the vampire king and queen. It was her that had captured Iris. If she hadn’t done any of those things, then none of this would have happened. The vampire would never have lost his sister and the two realms would have never had bad blood between them.

The vampire would have never captured her and the vampire realm would still have their beloved king and queen. She would have still been with Ariti… torturing and killing innocent people.

Right.

She was back to the start again. There was-

Suddenly, she felt a presence in the room.

A body stood by the window, blocking the light from the moon and therefore, casting the it upon the person. She couldn’t see the person’s face, but they were big and from the lines of the body, she knew that this person was male.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage as she scooted back on the bed, fear coursing through her and almost rendering her paralyzed, unable to make her muscles move. But when she thought about the thought of dying or being captured again, she forced her mouth open and prepared to scream.

“Don’t,” the man said quickly, his voice deep and familiar.

It wasn’t because he’d told her not to scream that she’d stopped and it certainly wasn’t because she was scared of him-it was because she knew who he was. And that was the only reason she kept her mouth shut.

Her heart slowed to it’s normal pace as the vampire-she just found it strange to call him Bran in her head when she’d been calling him ‘the vampire’ for so long-stepped out of the shadows, his face slightly illuminated by the light from her bedside lamp.

He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier when he’d rescued them. Black pants and a black T-shirt that moulded to his body, showcasing all his mouthwatering muscles.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked as he walked slowly to her bed.

He stopped suddenly, then frowned as though he didn’t know why she was asking him such a question. Or maybe he, too, didn’t have an answer to the question and was just as confused by his presence.

“I don’t know,” he ground out.

So she was right.

She cocked her head, confused. “You don’t know why you came into my room?”

He sighed then shook his head. Tension lined his shoulders and he looked like he was strung tight, ready to pounce-or flee-at any moment.

Restless energy poured off him in waves and she had to wonder what was making him this way. Looking like he would rather fight a thousand men than be there standing in front of her in that moment, and yet looking like he wanted to be right there anyway.

She was sure that he was torn, struggling with his thoughts and it made a sudden feeling of tenderness for him wash over her until she felt like she had to do something about it. She was surprised to realize that she didn’t like him feeling so uncomfortable. So out of sorts.

“Do you want to sit?” She offered and his beautiful green eyes jumped to hers, shock and confusion written all over his devastatingly handsome face.

“Sit?”

She nodded, patting the bed next to her. “Yes. Here.”

His eyes flared with surprise as though he couldn’t understand why she would want him to sit with her and honestly, she didn’t know why she thought asking him to was a good idea.

Maybe it was because she’d thought she was going to die in that cell and all of a sudden, he’d showed up and freed her.

She wasn’t going to lie. When she’d seen him, she’d been surprised, wondering what he’d come there to do, but then his sister had called out to him and she figured he’d decided to search for her. Yet, of all the strange activities of the day, it was the fact that he’d freed her that shocked her more.

She didn’t know why, but he’d done it. And that was why she was being nice to him. She owed him thanks despite how things had gone the last time they saw each other.

You should probably apologize for that slap too, she thought.

Maria blinked when he settled on the bed just beside her leg, startled at the wave of heat she felt just from being so close to him. She was suddenly so aware of him, of his presence, the rise and fall of his chest and the strength in his arms as they ghosted her thigh.

His high cheekbones, firm lips, stubbornly strong chin, that straight aristocratic nose, and those beautiful, beautiful green eyes.

She was now very aware of all of them and it made thinking about anything not related to him impossible and filling her mind with all things him, very much possible.