Page 104 of Heir

If I could let her be, I would.

But I couldn’t.

The Mate’s Ache was too painful. And the longer we went without mating, the harder it would be to be away from her at all. I was grateful for the capsule compounded by the mage. At least I could be civilized while she bled.

I regretted taking her in that closet the way I did. And yet, my body continued to thrum with post-coital bliss. The taste of her lingered on my tongue and lips. I’d never tasted anything—anybody—so sweet. Her blood was like the most decadent nectar, and I couldn’t get enough. I could have easily drunk her dry if I didn’t stop myself. And it wasn’t because I wanted to kill her, it was because she tasted that good. It was because being with my mate, drinking my mate, was as whole as I’d ever felt in my nearly five and a half centuries. I could only imagine that mating with her would feel that much more extraordinary.

But I had to wait.

Until she consented to the Bond. Until she chose me.

The bus ride back to her apartment was quiet.

None of us really said anything.

I’m sure Zandren and Maxar knew exactly what happened between us. The way their noses sniffed and wrinkled as soon as we ran into them said they had an idea of what transpired between Omaera and I. I didn’t care.

I was just as much her mate as they were.

Maybe there was some jealousy there because I got to be with her first. But there was no bond forged in our union. In my fugue state, I mentally pushed for it—slightly—but I could feel her resisting. The Fates would not allow a non-consensual Mate Bond. As disastrous as the whole Fated Mates thing could be, at least the Fates had done one thing right.

I avoided Zandren’s gaze, but I could feel the heat and hate of it burning on my face.

Omaera sat between him and Maxar at the back of the bus. I sat to their left.

Besides a couple of men at the front of the bus heading out on some kind of a night shift in trade uniforms, we were the only passengers. They unloaded before we did, and then it was just us four until we reached our stop a block from Omaera’s home.

“Thank you,” Omaera called out, the first to get off the bus from the door in the middle of the vehicle. “Have a great night.” She waved at the driver, who waved back to her.

I said nothing. Neither did Zandren, nor Maxar.

“Would it kill any of you to be pleasant to other people? To humans?” she asked in frustration. “You know that bus drivers are people too?” She glanced specifically at me. “Or do you just see them as lowly peasants here to serve us?”

I blinked at her. “I . . . no. I don’t see them that way.”

I caught Maxar’s and Zandren’s eyes, and they both looked thoroughly chastised.

“If this whole fucked up, quadruple thing is going to work, you three need to trust me more. Give me space and respect my boundaries. And for Christ’s sake, be humble, gracious, and polite.” Her gaze pivoted back to me. “And I don’t mean pompous WASP polite, where all your manners are actually backassward insults. I mean ‘please and thank you’ said with sincerity.”

I swallowed and nodded.

Zandren stared at his feet and murmured, “Okay.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Maxar whispered.

We followed her to the apartment building, but even I smelled it and I wasn’t a fucking shifter.

Zandren stopped in his tracks and dropped to all fours, snarling.

Thank god it was nearly four in the morning and nobody was around to witness such idiocy, but nevertheless, the potent scent of demons in the air had the hair at the nape of my neck standing straight up.

“They were here,” Zandren growled, clambering still on all fours and in human form toward the front door. He used the code Omaera gave us to get into the door, then bounded into the lobby.

We hustled after him, taking the stairs because, for some reason they just felt safer than the elevator. I could already tell by the scratches on the carpet on the landing of each floor that Zandren had shifted. And if the scratches didn’t give that away, the pile of clothes and shoes on the second floor was proof. I gathered them up and followed Omaera and Maxar.

We reached the fourth floor and the scent of demon was stronger than ever. Normally, I couldn’t smell another species, or even other vampires, but this was intensely strong. Like damp fire logs and . . . death. That was the only way I could describe it, and even that didn’t sound right.

Panic rolled off Omaera in tenuous waves as we reached the fourth floor and she burst out into the hallway.

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