The Vampire Prince

Chapter Eleven

Everette

With just the tips of my fingers, I lift her chin so that I can kiss her again. This kiss is softer than the last as I pull her body closer, leaning back into the couch, as I try to force myself to take it slow.

My hand brushes along the smooth length of her thigh, smirking at the way my touch brings goose bumps to the exposed flesh.

Always eager, Farah's tongue meets mine as her warm lips move with my cooler ones. Her fingers inch towards the hem of my shirt, untucking it from my trousers and then her hands are on my skin, touching my stomach.

Her touch causes my fangs to lengthen, pushing out further from their gums. It's not only my fangs that react though. My dick is throbbing, demanding to be released from its restraints.

It doesn't help that Farah is rubbing her pretty little arse back and forth on my lap, right above it. It's pure torture.

She pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily, resting her head on my shoulder. Her neck is right there and I've never wanted to bite her more than I do now.

I brush her hair back from her shoulder as she moves closer still, pressing her chest against my own. I feel the warmth pouring off her skin and I practically taste the pheromones she's letting off in the air around us.

My finger moves to her collar, tracing her vein through the fragile layer of skin. My breathing is harsher than it should be. It's not like I'm struggling for breath. I lower my mouth to that vein, dropping several small kisses to the spot before allowing my teeth to sink into her flesh.

I feel her body tense, her fingers wrapping around my arms, nails digging into my shirt. But almost as quickly, I feel her body loosen up once more.

It's hard to focus on her, when I can taste her blood. It's indescribably sweet, an almost heavenly nectar. I feel a newfound power surging through my body as I literally ingest her essence. The taste is addictive, far sweeter than I've had in years.

I fight the temptation to give in and take her life. I feel the change in her body before she does, stopping just before she has the chance to begin fighting me. I don't want to scare her.

I want to bite her again and again, taking her to the edge of death over and over before finally taking her life

Lapping at the wounds my fangs have given her, I use my venom to close them. Then I kiss my way up her neck and back to her mouth.

She's sluggish as she tries to respond to my kiss. I caress her neck soothingly with slow and gentle circles, trying to ease any leftover pain.

Gradually she seems to return to her senses as I cup her face in my hands. Her eyes are hooded, sleepy but beneath that I can see that she's afraid. She doesn't understand what has just happened, but she knows that she's in danger.

Ironically, I'm probably less dangerous to her now than I was a few moments ago. I lick my lips, enjoying the taste of her blood that stains them. She sits astride my lap, completely petrified, simply incapable of obeying her instinct to run.

Her lips are quivering and she's clearly close to tears. Her breathing comes sharply and I can hear her heartbeat's faltering rhythm.

I should pull back, give her time to adjust, time to accept what I am.

But I can't. My bloodlust might have been quenched for now, but there are other desires that have still gone unmet.

Farah

I'm struggling to think straight, trying to rationalise exactly what has just happened. I can hardly believe it. I should be pushing him away, running for the door.

I knew he was dangerous. I knew it the very first time I met him and yet I'd stupidly ignored it.

Now though, climbing down from his lap, I stagger back. I know I should run, but my feet refuse to obey me. They're glued to the ground and I am seemingly incapable of moving as I stare down at him.

He hasn't moved. He's just sitting there, gazing up at me, his stare deadly. It tells me that as much as my instinct is to run, his is something altogether more sinister.

He could kill me. He probably will.

I should run. I should fight. I should tell him that I want to live. Or perhaps I should scream, hoping that someone will rescue me.

But logically, I know I'll never win.

"Farah, calm down," he tells me, reaching out to me.

Giving off an aura of perfect tranquillity, he pulls me back down into his lap and my body obeys him.

I don't speak, sitting there in his lap, still on edge, almost waiting for death to come for me.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says and I almost laugh aloud at the idea of him saying that he won't hurt me.

He forces me to meet his eye, lifting my chin softly. His gaze is softer than I expect, almost longing. He doesn't speak again for the longest time as I just stare at him, losing myself in his iridescent eyes.

It's almost laughable that I've been so completely unaware of what he is. Looking into those supernatural eyes, eyes that swirl a mixture of cobalt and violet, it's only now that I see him for what he truly is; a Vampire.