Page 20 of Heir

“Go sleep, Raver.”

“Go get your mate.”

I was going to do just that.

I stepped into the lobby as Raver headed back to his car.

Lilacs, honeysuckle, and cayenne.

Taking the stairs, I poked my head on every floor, giving a big sniff down every hallway. It wasn’t until I reached the top floor that my heart pounded hard against my ribcage.

She was here.

Unit 405.

I buttoned my suit jacket, hoped that my hair was straight, and gently knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” came a curious female voice.

“It is I, Lord Drak Ferrin, your mate,” I declared, something akin to butterflies taking flight in my belly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” muttered another female voice.

Footsteps that absolutely could not belong to a woman thundered on the other side of the door. Then the door was yanked open by a man nearly seven feet tall, and almost three hundred pounds, who glared at me with brown eyes.

A bear shifter.

And not just any bear shifter. The Prince.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” he growled.

“Zandren,” I said cooly, giving His Majesty a slight bow.

He lifted a light brown brow. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Lord Drak Ferrin, cousin of King Howar Volmark.”

Zandren’s eyes formed thin slits. “What the fuck are you saying? You’re her mate?”

“My mate is in there. I can smell her. Lightning struck me late last night, and I have spent every moment since then making my way to her.”

“The fuck it did,” he barked. “I’m her mate. Lightning struck me, and I smelled her from over a hundred miles away. Could smell your minty ass before you even entered the building. I told them there was a filthy vampire nearby and they should shut their windows.”

The two women from the hospital—one of whom was my mate—crept up behind Zandren. Those curious butterflies in my abdomen were back. I was almost at full strength again.

“What are you talking about?” my mate asked, then her eyes went wide. “I recognize you from the hospital earlier today.”

I nodded. “I followed your scent there. But they mistook me for someone ill and tried to admit me. I hope you are all right?”

She glanced at her red-haired friend, then up at Zandren. “Been a weird twenty-four hours. So you’re like . . . a vampire?” Her hand went to her throat.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I am, yes. But you need not fear me. I just ate.”

Her friend’s eyes nearly popped from her skull. “How long until you’re hungry again?”

“I should be fine for a while.” I glanced down the hallway in each direction. “Might I come in so we can sort things out, please?”

“Fuck that. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but she’s my mate,” Zandren said, barring the door with his thick, corded arm. “Get lost, vampire. Go run away to your dark, dank castle.” He growled like a grizzly, but it came across amusing considering his choice of attire. He was dressed ridiculously. His clothes, gray sweatpants and a red T-shirt, were far too tight and too small for him. Certainly not befitting for royalty. Then again, shifters weren’t known for their fashion sense or decorum.

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