The tray of cheese, fruit, and bread Marianna had the kitchen prepare for my dinner remains untouched as I flop on my bed. Food is the last thing on my mind. It has been four hours since I found out I'm to be kept in my chambers for three whole months and already I feel imprisoned. It was miserable not being able to feel the sun but through a window the time I was locked up for a year. I had hope to never experience such a dreary existence again.

Wishful thinking.

What Thron says goes when the Dark Prince is not around. The instant visual of Tristan Darkos climbing on top of me warms past my cheeks to the whole of me. He's so handsome. His dark hair, his black eyes, even his black veins are attractive. They look like war declarations scribed onto his chiseled body. Satan may have placed warnings upon the Beast of the Damned's flesh, but what of his heart?

I roll over onto my back, draping my arm across my face as if I can hide from the truth I already know. Out of all the vampires for a girl to have a crush on, I pick the one that is uninterested in having a mate. Marianna won't tell me much about Tristan. Anytime I bring up Thron's most well known son, she changes the subject. I've never understood how the Prince and Thron can be so close considering Rakasha bore offspring from them both. Then again, I don't really understand the ways of vampires.

I'll tell you what I do know. Narran and Vera wish I were thirty feet underwater in an unmarked grave. I don't understand why the fledglings refuse to accept me. The older vampires seem to. I mean they ignore me but they would never think to try and lead me to my death. Maybe that is because as Thron said, they must tolerate me. It's hard to find comfort in my home when I know there is only one vampire who is the reason I'm still alive. If Mairanna wasn't charged with caring for me, would she snub her nose at me like all the others?

A gust of wind blows in through my open window, reaching all the way up my nightgown causing me to shiver. Groaning into the mattress at how unfair life is, I unhurriedly make my way to the window to close it up for the night. I like sleeping with the window open to let in the fresh air, but I have no intentions of freezing myself if winter sees fit to grace us ahead of schedule.

It takes all of my strength to push the wood shutters closed against the howling north winds. I slide the latch in place so the shutters can't blow open. Being in the highest front town means my chambers are always in the crosshairs of the mountainous airstreams that never seem in short supply.

Turning around my breath gets caught in my throat silencing the scream that wants to erupt. The tip of my nose is a centimeter away from touching informal warrior attire. I glance up to find Tristan is the vampire whose broad chest is blocking my view of anything else. His jaw is flexed as if he is biting hard on his back teeth. The way he keeps his gaze fixed on me is unnerving and, frankly, a little frightening.

Tristan's black eyes can be so intense it's hard to breathe when they lock onto me as if I am the only human in existence. Or, at least, that is how he makes me feel the few times he has looked my way.

There is a sense of mild panic at his being in my chambers. That could also be from the piece of human flesh hanging around his neck. The red dripping from it speaks to its freshness, but it's the raised symbol branded onto it that has my full attention. It's the mark that allows my human servants entry into my room.

I swallow hard.

Does that mean he maimed one of the servants charged to tend me to gain entry into my chambers?

"Did you come to see if I made it back safely?" I ask, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around myself as he takes in my lack of adequate clothing.

I don't miss the way his gaze stays locked on my neck once it lands there. If someone else were in the room with us, they wouldn't be able to miss it either. Tristan's face construes into one of pure agony, yet he says nothing. He just stands there, staring at me like he is starving. I suppose a vampire like him is always starving. Perhaps that is why he is here because I offered him a taste of me after he fished me out of the spring.

Silence.

"Did Thron send you to make sure my room was secure?" The branded servant skin clinging to the necklace bearing the Darkos crest courtesy a fishing hook tells me otherwise.

More silence.

Only there isn't silence as my heart appears to be ready to pound its way right out of my chest and straight into Tristan Darkos's arms. Losing my battle, I wrap my arms around myself when Tristan falls into some kind of hypnotic trance as my heart races. It really needs to stop doing that around him.

"I'd offer you some wine or brandy, but I have none." I bypass him, feeling the need to remove myself from between him and the wall.

I'd say it's considerably easier to breathe now, but it isn't. It's worse. He makes no attempt to hide the expression that comes over his face. It's an expression that clearly says, I didn't come here for wine or brandy.

I walk over to the vanity in my room and grip the chair. May the Dark Prince grant my courage to get these next words out. "Did you decide you want a taste?"

The low groan that rumbles in his chest causes my stomach to twist. I'll take that as a yes. With shaking hands, I reach for a needle that is sticking out of the pincushion that is sitting on my vanity. There wasn't much to do the year I was locked inside the castle so I tried my hand at embroidery work. It was a short-lived hobby.

A surprised yelp floods out of me, the pincushion my fingers barely skimmed on the floor next to the branded flesh and fishhook. The thudding vibrations of my heart feel amplified as Tristan holds me locked against his torso. His large hand wastes no time sweeping my hair away so that he may rub his face along the nape of my neck.

Inhaling my scent, he groans, his chest rumbling in deep tones that have my toes wanting to curl. I'm aware I should be terrified given Thron's warning and the fact that Tristan cut off a piece of someone's flesh to make it past the demon incantations that keep me safe. It is hard though when this is the same vampire who I crawled all over as a young child. The one who would take me to the stream for my "stalking" lessons so I could become a great huntress. It feels unnatural to fear someone I have admired for as long as I can remember.

"Don't you think this would be better if we were sitting? I know blood loss can make humans faint and it would be awfully embarrassing if I fall once you release me."

As much as I want him to bite me, I'm not looking forward to the pain his fangs will undoubtedly inflict when they pierce my skin. Vampires can handle getting bit as well as they do when they are the ones doing the biting. So when they drink from each other, it's not a big deal. My human flesh, on the other hand, will not be able to handle Tristan's sharp teeth in the same manner one of his own kind would.

I know when the fledglings bite each other it brings about pleasure. A vampire biting a human? I don't think that has ever brought anything but pain and no amount of me wishing will ever change that. If I want to be apart of Tristan's world, I need to be able to handle the things that are natural to him. Being bit is at the top of that list.

"I won't let you fall." His husked voice causes my skin to rise. The raised shivers spread as he stretches his cool mouth over my jumping pulse.

My anxiety reaches its threshold when I feel the points of his fangs begin to bear down on me. His muffled chuckle of amusement vibrates against my neck as he squeezes me tighter to him. My knees give way.

"You offer me a taste yet, when I come to collect, you nearly collapse at the thought. You are a strange human."

"I've never been bitten." I squirm in his arms as he drags his tongue over the sting he created when he nipped my skin.

"I'm very aware of that." He nips me again, this time causing a sharp pain that he quickly soothes with the flat of his cold tongue

The anticipation and nervous excitement has me shaking so badly I probably look like a leaf being blown every which way by the wind. I'm starting to think the nipping is his way of tenderizing my flesh so that his fangs will sink into me with ease. I squeeze my eyes shut because the last thought fills me with too many others, and I want to be present in this moment so I can remember it forever.

I dig my nails into Tristan's arms when the sharp sting from his third nip is not fading as the others did. When I realize that is because his fangs are sunk deep into my neck, my eyes fly open. The tiny shift I make to alleviate the burning sting is the wrong move. It causes a shooting, searing pain to rip through me.

Tristan crushes me tighter to him, silencing the scream that almost made it out of my throat by cutting off the air to my lungs with his powerful arms. He just holds me, not letting me move an inch as he keeps his fangs buried in my neck.

I hate how weak I am. How much it hurts me. I don't want it to hurt. I want it to be pleasurable like it is when they bite each other. It isn't pleasurable at all. It hurts like hell. The whole right side of my neck feels like it is on fire.

The fire sensation lessens enough that I can feel him taking large pulls from my neck. With his throat so close to my ear, I can hear the way he swallows my blood down like it is the most decadent treat he's ever tasted.

It isn't long before I become light-headed, almost loopy like I did that one time I ate the berries off the prickly pear bush in the north courtyard. It's a strange sensation. My body is heavy while my head feels like it's filled with clouds and may float off my shoulders at any second.

A warm trickle seeps down my back causing Tristan to pull his fangs from my neck. He laps at the blood that escaped his hungry mouth. He's so intent on making sure none of my life force goes to waste, he doesn't balk at slipping the straps of my nightgown down my shoulders so he can harvest it all.

The next minute is a mad frenzy. Tristan's mouth roams my back to my shoulder then up my neck and over to the wound his teeth inflicted. For a split second, I think he entertains the thought of sinking his fangs back into me. For some reason, he decides against it. The way his mouth moves on my neck as he works on closing up the tear his fangs tore is enough to make a girl faint, blood loss or no blood loss.

"I should go," Tristan mumbles out between the opened-mouth, tongue-bathing kisses he is lavishing on my neck. "I really want to sink my teeth into every part of you, including that quick beating heart of yours."

"My heart?" I screech.

Since when do vampires sink their teeth into hearts! I didn't know that was a thing. I thought the fledglings were picking on me when they would say I need to be careful otherwise they'd eat my heart.

"Mmm, yes. I love human heart," Tristan replies as if he's informing me he enjoys long walks on a sunny day.

"You can't have my heart." Alarm electrifies every cell in me as I squirm in his arms trying to get free.

"I'm not supposed to have your blood either, yet here I am with it running through my veins." He drags his tongue slowly up my neck. "You are going to be very hard for me to stay away from now that I have tasted how sweet your blood is. You have no idea how long its been haunting me. You're lucky my father found you when he did because I was about to do something terrible to you."

Next thing I know, Tristan is laying me down on my bed where he has already pulled back the covers. Did I say he was laying me down? What I should say is he is laying us down as he is on top of me. His devil black eyes lock onto mine as he holds himself above me. All I can think about is what kind of terrible thing was Tristan going to do if his father hadn't shown up? More importantly, since Thron is now gone, does that mean Tristan feels free to do said horrible thing?

"What kind of horrible thing would you have done to me?"

If this was a vampire to a vampire or a human to a human, then I'd say this question is seeped with intimate possibilities. A human and a vampire? It might be more like a mouse asking a cat how he plans to toy with it before putting it out of its misery.

Did you see the way he crawled on top of her? He was a half second away from plunging his hand into her chest cavity and yanking out her beating heart. Vera's voice rushes into me, reminding me how her and Narran were debating in the woods earlier today on whether or not Tristan wants to kill me.

"I was about to rip your throat open and let your maddening blood spill down my face and that pretty dress of yours."

"That sounds...painful"—I force the words out though my throat feels like it's been laced with cotton—"and life ending."

"It would have been very painful. Life ending? No. There is no way I would chance the Prince of Darkness's wrath for killing one of his massarras."

"Aren't you risking facing his wrath by feeding from me?" As a massarra of the Dark Prince's vamperial garden, my blood is off limits to everyone expect the Prince. When I turn eighteen in a year and a half's time, I will be expected to fulfill my duties a massarra by filling the Prince's cup. So I guess technically right now I am a massarra-in-waiting.

Tristan shifts his weight to one arm and bites into his wrist. "Human, I did not feed from you. I merely accepted the taste you offered." He offers his bleeding wrist to me by placing it right next to my lips.

My stomach rolls, remembering the time I tried to drink blood when I was younger. I shake my head.

"Drink," he orders.

"I haven't the stomach for it." I turn my head away from his oozing wrist because one, the sight of it up close is rather gross and two, I'm embarrassed to admit this to him as he is a blood drinker.

"You are going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you?" Tristan pulls himself to a sitting position where he is now straddling me.

"I just need res—"A mouthful of blood cuts me off.

As I wasn't anticipating being force-fed, my body reflexively tries to cough up the cold liquid he is pushing down my throat via his mouth. Tristan counters by sealing his mouth tighter to mine. I have him and gravity working against me now.

When he's satisfied he has forced enough blood down my throat, he breaks his capture of my lips and wipes at the scarlet trickle running down his chin. "Next time, you will take my wrist if I offer it to you." He swipes his thumb over my lips, removing the residual remnants of his blood that stains them.

Tristan vanishes right before my very eyes causing me to sit up. My head stays craned in the direction of the strong gusts pouring in through the opened shutters of my bedroom window.

Did he say next time?