Page 29 of The Depraved Prince
I nod, clenching my jaw, patting my pants for my cigarettes. I need to burn one. I’ll check on my little Bambi and then head for a cigarette on my balcony in my room.
“I’m going to get some rest somewhere else until she’s gone. Goodnight, brother. Or should I say, King Hayden Drago?” Kallum closes his book. “I heard Dad from here. You’re ascending early. Good luck with finding a woman who’ll willingly want to marry your grumpy self.” He tells me blandly, fixing the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, and my first order as king will be to get you, your lonely virgin self, laid.”
He scoffs out a laugh. “I’m waiting for the one. I want to be a little traditional in that way, brother. Not everyone wants to have meaningless fucks.” He makes a dig at my sex life and flashes away. By the sound of his steps, he heads towards the guest room on the other side of the Cathedral, the farthest space from Millie’s room.
Good.
Finally, I open the French doors slowly, expecting her to jump up and fight. I love it when she fights. My cock hardens at the thought; it’s too fucking fun to see my little Bambi, hot and heated, ready to draw my blood.
To my disappointment, she really is dead asleep in a deep slumber. Dried tears are down her cheeks, and her long black hair is knotted, probably from pulling it out of anxiousness.
I tilt my head to the side in awe as I stand over her. She’s sprawled out on the floor, limp and exhausted like a pretzel.
That can’t be comfortable.
Her chest slowly rises and falls. She’s young but not naive. She’s intelligent with a soul that’s been hurt, and that’s gone through way too much at twenty years of age. I’ve been watching her for the past few months, and my god, she is…beautiful. I can’t deny that. Fuck, is she the most angelic, divine, captivating woman I have ever seen in my entire pathetic life, leaving stardust wherever she goes.
It isn’t fair.
When I first met her, she had a broken and bruised wrist, tears overflowing so much so that they were dripping down her soft, blushed cheeks. Her soft lips quivered. Fear in her big brown eyes was evident with each rapid blink as she held her wrist to her chest. I could have fallen to my knees right then and there in the Davenport’s vampire club.
Something hit me, an emotion that had me questioning whether I do have a soul after all. So, I pushed it away out of fear. Every time I look at her, I push it back into the darkest depths, hoping it’ll fade, but her presence is a daily reminder that I may have a soul that hasn’t gone to hell. It’s still here, and I can feel it whenever I’m around her.
The sun will rise. I squint at the moon rays through the red stained glass. I track the rays and picture the sun instead. They hit my hand where I wear my ring. When the sun rises later, it’ll beam on our skin, but it won’t burn like it should because it’s filtered through the Cathedral’s stained glass.
I sigh, and the gloomy reminder that I need to rest hits me. It’s almost time for me to head into my chamber and sleep.
“M-mom…” An angelic, innocent whisper leaves her sleeping lips.
I raise a brow and shift my gaze to Millie. She’s talking in her sleep. I may or may not know all about what her parent’s separation did to her.
There is a small curve on my lips, and I smile. Not because it brings me joy to see her still have dreams from her mother, but because she’s still so hopeful at twenty years old. She hopes her mother and father one day find happiness. I know everything about her parents. I’ve visited her almost every night since I rescued her from the Davenports.
“My parents stayed together, Bambi, and look how I turned out? It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,” I whisper, ever so soft and low, hoping it doesn’t wake her. She doesn’t move or stir as I brush hair strands off her face.
I scoop her into my arms, careful and tactical, bringing her head close to my chest, her legs dangling off my biceps. She’s featherlight. Being immortal gives us that advantage. Our strength is out of this world.
I lay her down, and she still doesn’t stir. She’s on her side, and I’ll make sure to tell our cooks to prepare her a breakfast meal. I know all of her favorite meals. She must be starving…I know I am.
Fuck, I want a taste. I want her blood. I also may want the arousal too. It’s inevitable once I bite her.
And I will bite her. But I’ll spare her another night. She needs rest, and so do I. Because I love the fight, I crave the fight. I need her to fight me once she regains her strength because what I have planned for us is anything but holy.
I close the bedroom, lock it, and head to my chamber to rest. The meeting with my father ran longer than I thought it would. Our King’s guard let me know my midnight fling has been calling nonstop, and she doesn’t take cancellations mildly. Oh fucking well. I have a new plaything to chew on.
I’m inside my room in no time, standing in front of the mirror. I have no reflection so I don’t know why I keep a mirror, but it makes me feel less like a monster. Maybe if I keeppretending, I’ll feel less and less like one. Act like a duck, quack like a duck, and I’ll eventually become a duck, right?
I undress all the way down until I’m in my boxers, then head for the balcony to light my cigarette. I push open the French doors, and stare at the full moon as I take a hit.
And for some fucking odd reason, I can’t get a pair of beautiful honey-brown eyes out of my mind. Suddenly, the air shifts, and my senses come alive, signaling an uninvited guest.
My lips twist into a coy smile as I flick the cigarette bud until ashes fall.
“Eleanor Davenport. What did I do to deserve the displeasure?” I ask, unbothered, without acknowledging the southern princess.
“Was it worth it?” Eleanor Davenport stands next to me, beautiful and elegant as ever, in a beige dress that goes all the way down to her ankles and hugs every curve of her body in perfect ways.
