Page 55 of Soren

It had taken very little time in his new life for Soren to realize he was meant to be seen, not heard. And a verylongtime for him to realize how stifling that was, with his new and improved condition.

It hadn’t made sense at first. His had never been a life full of choice and possibility. He’d been poor and half-starved and long used to playing up to other people’s expectations—what was one more person telling him what to do?

But that was something Hendrick and his den didn’t acknowledge about turning someone. That change…unleashing someone’s inner vampire—theirdemon, as Roman called it—did more than just make someone crave blood. It amplified certain parts of their personality as well, all those inner cravings given new life. For some, like those in that shitty den, it amplified their viciousness, their cruelty.

But for Soren…

Soren craved pleasure, excess in all things. And a pursuit of pleasure necessitated freedom. He wanted to feel and think and say what he pleased. It had taken him many years to realize it fully.

And one night for Hendrick to beat it out of him.

At least, temporarily. The cycle would continue for decades. Until Soren couldn’t stand it anymore, and he’d run. And run. And kept running.

“Christ,” Soren sighed. He was being fucking maudlin, obsessing over the past. He looked over the latest text from Jay, lips quirking at his friend’s unbridled enthusiasm.

No Hendrick. But so many humans! A little old lady called me adorable. I love the hospital!

This was pointless. Soren downed the rest of his drink in one graceless gulp. He’d go back to the house, cuddle that silly puppy, and wait like a sap for his human to return.

“Another one?” the bartender asked.

Before Soren could answer, he felt it: a surge of cold, a new, ominous tension in the air. A familiar, hated scent.

“I’ve got this round.”

Soren shivered.

The man sliding onto the barstool next to him was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark-blond hair combed neatly back from a ruddy face. Soren had once thought him handsome, before he’d seen all the ugliness underneath. Maybe it was turning into a vampire that had corrupted Hendrick, or the toxic culture of the den, but Soren had a feeling he’d always been rotten on the inside.

“You were much easier to find this time, angel,” Hendrick murmured, pushing the new drink toward Soren. “Putting down roots, are you?”

“Just a place to rest for a little while.” Soren hated how small his voice came out, the familiar jangle of nerves in his stomach. He loathed that Hendrick still had this effect on him, after all this time.

“Mm. With that friend of yours.”

Soren’s response caught in his throat, his blood running cold. Did Hendrick mean Gabe? Had he been watching them at the house?

“You know,” Hendrick continued, drumming his fingers on the bar, “it’s a good thing that vampire found his mate. Otherwise, I might be feeling a littlejealousright about now.”

Relief washed through Soren.

Roman. He meantRoman.

Soren’s friend had been a fixation of Hendrick’s before, although not one Soren had ever let him get close to.

Hendrick hadn’t taken notice of Gabe.

But Soren’s relief was short-lived. Hendrick had mentioned Roman’s mate. Christ. Soren hated the thought of his ex knowing about Danny. Roman’s mate was sweet, lovely, purehearted—Soren didn’t want Hendrick anywhere near him.

He sat unbearably still, trying to resist the urge to bite at his nails. It was happening, exactly as he’d feared. Soren’s presence was tainting his friends with Hendrick’s attention.

This is why you don’t stay. This is why you should have left..

“What do you want, Hendrick?” Soren finally moved, pushing the unwanted drink to the side.

The big vampire chuckled, the sound grating on Soren’s already fraught nerves. “I want what I always want, angel. To check in with you. To remind you who you belong to.”

Who Sorenbelongedto.

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