Page 21 of Bitten

It had already been suggested once, trying to frighten him.

Ralnur didn’t frighten easily.

After she sighed and left the room, he looked down at the small mug and winced with disgust. Looking away, Ralnur saw another burst of fireworks at the castle… and then saw his own reflection in the glass.

He was past gaunt. He looked like death.

A vision came to his mind.

A face.

He’d dreamed of this man for days now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his dream lover. The sensual dreams that had plagued him had only grown worse—and made him all the wearier.

Ralnur wished to know who he was, but there was a tiny piece of him that sensed something.

Sensed it was potentially his sire.

The vampire who’d made him.

But it wasn’t a face he recalled from the nest. He remembered every single one of the vampires who’d bitten him, draining a little more of his life pint by pint. He’d cursed them all, each and every time they’d bitten him.

This face hadn’t been one of those, he was almost sure of it.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he’d missed someone. The nest had been chaotic, at best. Or maybe the man was a memory from the long past, one he’d forgotten. Now that the end was near, had his depraved mind given him one last piece of heaven before hell dragged him under?

In one dream, he lay beside the vampire in his hospital bed, drinking from the vein.Lust had clutched him so intensely, that he’d struggled to fight it off, even as weak as he’d been. The taste that had coursed down his throat?

Ralnur sighed, knowing it had only been a dream.

The room he was in was warded against magic and vampires. Had one entered, alarms would’ve gone off and the guards outside his door would’ve raced in and killed the beast.

His dream lover had to be a figment of his imagination.

Another pain clenched Ralnur, this time hunger.

Closing his eyes, he fought the bloodlust. Using every last shred of power he had left, he refused to eat. Ralnur knew he was weakening. As his body diminished, so did his mind. And so did his power. He couldn’t use spells because of the ward—but he could draw on that power to fight the change within.

Only he was losing the battle.

He could smell the synthetic blood in the cup, and he struggled to hold back.

Reaching out, he knocked the mug over, the fake blood splashing over the floor in a starburst pattern. He looked down at it, instinct pushing him to go to his hands and knees and lick it off the tiled floor.

Ralnur closed his eyes and turned back to the fireworks. He wouldn’t lower himself like that…

He would die with dignity.

* * * *

The morning after the ball…

Theis strode up to the nurse’s station upon arrival to the royal ward. The sun was barely up and he was still exhausted from his duties the night before, but there was little rest for the wicked. The guard was back to business as usual—even with the king away. Now, he could focus on his investigation full force.

Ralnur.

Or better yet, who had illegally transitioned the king’s warlock uncle into a vampire.

“I need to see the healer in charge of Ralnur’s care.”

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