Page 102 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

“Mouse,” he warns in that growly, demanding voice of his. “Don’t.”

My cheeks warm. “I can’t help it.”

“Try that again,” he says and even though we’re having a conversation far from sex, I still react as if we are, that slow heat rising up between my legs.

“I will make a great queen,” I tell him, head held high, a smile playing on my lips.

His amber eyes flare bright gold. “Good girl.”

There is a celebration of life and a feast after the queen’s funeral, which I find hilarious considering she took so many lives just to hold on to her power. But this is Arion’s court and I suppose he knows the fae much better than I do. Or maybe the fae use any excuse to throw a party. I’m just not in the mood. And I’m especially not in the mood after I helped end the queen’s life. I can’t exactly celebrate it.

Arion finds Bran and I as we slip out of the palace’s grand front entrance. Cal and Sam and the rest of the Midnight vampires have already returned home.

“Little sister,” Arion says and hearing him call me that makes me want to burst into happy tears.

I don’t want to look like a sappy dork, so I suck it up and turn to him hoping the glow of the hanging lanterns outside the palace door don’t catch the tears in my eyes.

Arion stops in front of me, hands folded behind his back. “Thank you,” he says. “I know you had your own agenda, and with good reason, but I am here now because of you.”

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to thank a fae?”

He smiles. “I’m willing to risk it.” And then he comes forward and embraces me.

It catches me off guard and I go stiff in his arms for a second before finally sinking into him.

Warmth blooms in my chest. I think out of all of this, gaining a brother is the best part.

“We did this together,” I remind him.

He plants a brotherly kiss on my forehead. “So we did.”

When we pull away, Arion glances at one of his guards and snaps his fingers. The guard comes to attention. “Ready a horse for the Winter Princess and her consort.”

I laugh nervously as I check Bran’s expression for a reaction. I guess consort really is the best way to describe him in this context, but he probably thinks it’s meant to be an insult. Doesn’t he?

But his face betrays none of that. If anything, he looks like he wears it well.

“What’s the horse for?” I ask. “We can walk back to Midnight.”

The guard darts away to fulfill his order.

“There’s one place you should visit before you go,” Arion says.

“Where?”

“The Winter Palace.”

The horse given to us is a giant black mare with a dark mane braided and twisted in intricate knots and decorated with jewels of emerald and sapphire. She’s standoffish toward Bran until he approaches her slowly from the front, hand extended. She gives him a sniff and Bran murmurs to her so softly I can barely hear.

Finally, she lifts her head and chuffs at him and he runs his hand down her snout.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” I say.

“Don’t worry, little mouse.” He offers me his hand to help hoist me up. “I spent over a century riding them.”

As soon as we’re in the saddle, the reins in Bran’s hands, the mare takes off.

She seems to know the way and Bran doesn’t fight her. He keeps the reins in one hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around my middle, holding me in the saddle and against his chest.

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