Bedded by the Headmaster

Ch2: The Headmaster's Choice

Arken

Arken felt exhausted as he left his office and trudged down the grand staircase.

He needed blood—preferably from a wolf—to replenish his energy. He preferred wolf blood to a humans' for multiple reasons. It was superior in its revitalising effect on vampires, and unlike humans who cowered in fear, wolves knew what was expected of them. And, in a place like Volmasque Academy where wolves were taught to be docile, there was no need to hunt. One simply had to choose a room.

It was a pity his office was on the top floor. It was a long walk down to where his food source awaited. He'd never realised there were so many damn stairs, but he'd also never been drained of blood before. It felt a little bit like being drunk, but not nearly as fun.

He almost regretted agreeing to help Nathaniel, especially if it meant he'd be feeling like this every single night for the foreseeable future. But the twenty-eight-year-old vampire had asked for his help, and Arken had said yes.

Nathaniel was officially the security officer at Volmasque Academy. He was also the Crown Prince, and son of the ruthless, self-proclaimed Vampire King, Henrikk.

But that was not why Arken had agreed to help Nathaniel. He was already loyal by default to Henrikk.

No, he'd agreed to help Nathaniel because he was his friend.

Actually, no. That wasn't the real reason, although it was true that they were friends.

The real reason he'd agreed to help Nathaniel with his little witch problem was because he was bored. And not in the way that other people were bored. Oh no. He was generally a cheerful sort of fellow and was just as happy to entertain himself as he was to amuse others, especially at evening card games.

But those were mere distractions—drink-filled evenings to numb him from remembering a painful past, and more urgently, a stagnant present. He held the position of Headmaster of Volmasque Academy simply by virtue of the fact that King Henrikk trusted him. Arken had no particular inclination towards academia, but he'd reluctantly accepted the role ten years ago and had been going through the motions ever since.

With all the people he had loved gone, life had lost its colour, just like the shock of losing Clara had made his hair turn silver far too early before he'd turned thirty. He was thirty-nine now. Nearly forty, and nearly ten years older than Nathaniel.

He sighed as he crossed the foyer and made his way down the winding staircase leading to the dorms. His shoes echoed loudly on the timber steps. The metal toe plates fixed to the soles announced his presence wherever he went.

Not that he was trying particularly hard to be quiet. He was quite possibly the only person at the academy who had nothing to fear, partly because Henrikk's favour made him immune to threats, but mostly because he had nothing left to lose.

The landing came into view.

"Finally," he muttered.

When was the last time he'd felt this exhausted? Possibly three weeks ago, when he'd woken on a Sunday morning with a terrible hangover. At least there was no headache this time, but his feet were numb with pins and needles. And he suspected that if he passed out now, he might not wake up at all.

Nathaniel's favour had cost him more than he'd expected.

Still, he would be feeling more like himself as soon as he found a willing wolf to feed on.

Or unwilling.

No one had ever refused him, so it was sometimes hard to tell.

He chose the first floor and set off down the corridor, wondering which room to try. He wished there was a way of knowing who was on the other side of each door, but he supposed that would violate the students' privacy.