Page 31 of The Depraved Prince
I blink like I’m trying to escape a trance. I realize I’m no longer looking at Eleanor, but at Millie’s diary I stole from her room. The night she smashed a lamp against my face.
“Looks like you’ve found someone who makes you feel all those things. I’m sorry it wasn’t me.”
I tear my gaze from my desk and face a broken-hearted Eleanor.
A black tear falls down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away, smearing it until it disappears. We cry black tears, unlike humans. She walks to the balcony, accepting the end of our argument after I let go of her hands. My throat rolls, and I blink away the intrusive thoughts.
“Eleanor, don’t be absurd, darling. Like everyone says about me…” I clench my jaw over and over again, and my nostrils flare. “I don’t have a heart. A true monster fit to be king.”
My own parents have this to say about me. It’s valid and justified after everything I put them through since I was born.
She laughs as another black tear falls down her cheek.
“That is what they say, Hayden…” she pauses. “Hayden Drago, the Depraved Prince.” She forces a smile, and for a moment, I feel bad. Eleanor isn’t a bad person. Despite who her father is. She’s innocent in all of his actions. I just know it. I meant every word I said. She deserves a man who will love her all consumingly.
“Goodnight, Eleanor. Safe travels,” I say as I watch her lift her dress. I hold the doors, ready to close and lock them.
She turns from me and jumps off the balcony. Her dress whirls in the wind and disappears in the shadows of the night. I close the doors and lock them with my skeleton key.
My room doesn't have stained glass—I don’t take risks. It’s windowless and dark, with a few candles lit in each corner.
I get into bed and stare at my finger as I get under the cover, the one that touched Millie’s velvet pussy. Her arousal wetness coated it the other night. I’m unsure what comes over me every time I interact with her. I just let it flow.
I’ve fucked humans and still do from time to time, but it never goes past that. We are allowed to feed from them. Our fangs inject a type of venom that causes memory loss, so they don’t remember the feeding afterward. However, on Valkyries, the venom doesn’t work. So if I bite my little Bambi, she’ll remember everything. Just like I want her to.
I put my finger into my mouth, sucking on it once more, hoping it still tastes like her, and close my eyes as I remember our encounter on her bed.
No woman has tasted like her. It was an appetizer—a little teaser of what her blood will do to me.
She’s teasing me. The way she welcomes my touch even though her tongue tells lies. She’s manipulating me into thinking she doesn’t want me. But I’m ready to make her my full-course fucking meal until she succumbs to her fate.
The look on King Davenport’s face when he finds out I have her is something I won’t have the pleasure of seeing, but it’ll still be satisfying. Avenging my uncle’s death would make my immortal life just that much more fun.
Deep down, I know it’s not the only satisfying thing a dead man like me can endure. Everyone I’ve ever known has experienced matching their soul to another, but I think it’s pointless and overrated. But why does she intrigue me? I’ll keep denying it until the end of time. I have to concentrate on the task at hand. Which is making sure her kind stays rare by eliminating her from this world.
11
MILLIE
I wake up with a raging,thumping headache. My stomach rumbles as red rays appear all over the room. I palm my stomach as my insides roll loudly and finally to silence. I groan, as I sit up. There are eye crusts in the corners of my lashes as I swipe slowly across them with the palms of my hands. I fell asleep crying until my throat practically bled from my screaming. No one is coming to help or save me. I don’t have anything to defend myself with. I don’t know where I am.
I have to save myself.
Despite my horrid situation, this is the best bed I’ve ever slept in. I peel the heavy, soft, luxurious black blankets off me and jog to the stained glass windows to see if I can see anything familiar. Or maybe I can break it.
With each heavy step, my feet meet cold wooden floors. Once the red light illuminates my body, I realize I’m in silky pajamas, contrary to my past clothing. I pinch the ultrasoft material, pull them from my thighs, and cringe.
I’m not in the clothes I wore when he broke into my house.
Did he undress me?
Someone did.
Asshole.
I make it to the stained glass windows in ten distressing seconds. I place my hands on either side of the thick, red-stained glass, and the temperature strikes back. It’s freezing to the touch. Ice-cold pricks at my fingertips, but I don’t pull away. I continue my investigation, trying to gather as much information as possible to plan my escape.
How am I going to outrun vampires?
