Arabella's lips were broad and soft against his own, the contrast startling but sensual. They stayed that way for moments, his palms caressing either side of her jaw. He massaged her mouth with his, parting her lips by only the slightest difference. She allowed him in, encouraging him, and he took from her lips slow to start. Her hands encircled his wrists in a tentative grip. Uncertain. Nervous. Urging him gently to take even more, as if she didn't want to scare him away.

He tilted his head against hers and swept his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her caused him to growl, and her tongue timidly caressed his. Shy. Sweet. Somehow both innocent and carnal. He sipped from her and she from him, the next kiss and the next kiss making him melt for her.

Intoxicating vampyre. Even now he could feel her holding back from him as much as he held back from her, the both of them desperately trying to maintain a semblance of control. But it would not be enough, the need to devour her neigh overwhelming.

He goaded her into a step back, then another, until she nearly toppled over her workstation. He tucked his hands under her thighs and lifted her onto the table, quick to rejoin his mouth to hers. They kissed and kissed and kissed, something so soft and lovely spiraling toward something unbearably erotic.

Her knees framed his waist, her arms about his neck. Sweet submission. Such a heady power she handed to him now. A being as awe-inspiring as her was allowing him to lead her.

To dominate.

His cock punched against the triangle between his trousers and hers. And he wanted to curse the bloody thing for spoiling this moment between them but it couldn't be helped. She would surely feel it the closer he pressed his body to hers, discover him hard and wanting, but he was too besotted with her kisses to feel shameful about it. Too mindless to care. Too aware that he was a man and she woman-nearly a real one. But she felt better than he ever imagined. Her breasts pressed up against his chest, his hands smoothing up the sides of her waist ...

Gods, how would he be able to deny himself this? How was he going to be able to take himself away. The answer was that he couldn't. Wouldn't. She would have to be the one to break this thing between them, but she showed no signs of stopping. He would not let her go, and he drove himself between her legs, allowing her to feel how hard he'd become, warning her that he was close to the end of his restraint.

She gasped against his neck, squirming as he rocked between her hips. "Freddie ..."

"I want to fuck you. Badly." He hadn't meant to say that, but it felt incredible to finally admit.

Because you're supposed to want me-even a fraction as much as I want you, she'd once said to him.

She had no idea. No fucking idea how much he wanted her right there and then. He would do anything to possess her.

Anything.

Her nose skimmed his cheek. "You're sure? Because I'll be honest, Freddie. I can't bring myself to say no to you." She nipped his earlobe, causing him to shiver. "I want to believe you mean yes, but I don't want to do anything until I hear you say it."

He cupped the back of her head, forcing him to look into his eyes as he said, "Yes. I want you, Ara. I want to know what it's like to finally fuck my wife."

She moaned and reached into his pants as if she couldn't help herself. The brush of her knuckles against his pelvis made him groan, and the first stroke of her silken hand against his shaft caused it to jerk. She bit her lip as she viewed his cock for the first time, her expression almost tender. Her fist bobbed up and down his length, making him harden to the point of discomfort.

"I don't know what I want to do to you first," she whispered. "I can't believe it. I've wanted to make love to you for so long but now ..."

When she didn't finish her sentence, he croaked, "And now?"

Her eyes glinted, her grip on him tightening until he growled low in his throat. "Now I can barely take another second of this. There will be plenty of time to make love later. Right now, I just want to be taken. I want to be fucked by you so badly, Frederick. I can't wait any longer."

Fuck, he was almost on the verge of coming-

It might have taken all of a second to flip her around. He yanked her breeches down to her knees and shoved her head onto the metal, a clang sounding in response. His cock nudged against her entrance as she moaned. The sounds she made heated his blood-

Frederick drew back with a start. He blinked. Both his hands shaking.

What was he doing?

She reached behind and drew his thighs against the backs of her legs, forcing him to press up against her. "Do it," she whimpered. "Do it, Freddie-"

That was all the permission he needed.

And gods, she was soaked enough to take all of him in one stroke. He entered her with no delay or care, sheathing himself all the way. The both of them froze, as though she, too, could not believe it. That he was finally inside her and they would have this.

Was it really happening like this?

Her sex clenched around him. And shit. Did he think it would be easier to take her from behind than the front? From here he received a perfect view of her bare ass. There would be no way that he could look at that either.

She arched her spine, and he bent over her back to grip her wrists. "Don't," he urged, her hair tickling his jaw when he spoke. "Don't move against me." Another clench. Fuck, she smelled amazing. Metal and oil from the stables, mixed with the wind from the world outside. "I mean it. Move like that one more time-"

"Then just fucking do it," she snarled. "Take me now."

Shit. This would be hard. Fast. A brutal fuck. How had the intimacy exploded into this madness already? But he could not help it as his body became a slave to his will, drawing back before slamming.

Again.

And again.

It wasn't what either of them had planned. No conversation and laughter over dinner. No flowers or candlelight. No hours of orchestrated teasing and kissing before undressing. No romance about it. Just the both of them giving in to their lust, and he wanted to fuck her until he couldn't stand.

Inelegant. Senseless. Dizzying.

There was just something incredible about the way she was. The things she did for him. The honest way she spoke with him made his cock hard. For the first time he was safe, cared for, and doted on. This vampyre made him feel like a man, and he attempted to articulate this as he moved inside her, knowing he would have to find the care and words required to thank her.

Later.

But even when he tried to be sweet in his way, still, she was not satisfied. "Harder," she demanded.

Any harder and he'd-

"More," she moaned.

More.

More.

He had no other choice, and he fucked her with all the strength in his body. She bounced on his cock, shaking the table with their movements, instruments clattering across the surface before falling off altogether.

His knuckles scrubbed against the metal, her fingers threaded through his own. Not all women were built for this. To gain pleasure from this. Or the right height for him. Any other woman would have complained from the pressure of where his palms and elbows pressed over her own, but Arabella embraced all of him with matched ardor, planting her feet firmly in the ground to take the brunt of him. The psychical strength she possessed never failed to astound him, but fuck, was she trying to force him into coming?

The bend of her back was perfection, her body a bridge for his pleasure. And her ass-gods-the view of her ass every time he buried himself inside her, his shaft glistening with her arousal when he drew back ... No other woman's sex had ever felt this good, this urgent, this soaked. He would have to spend a night kissing it, praising it, thanking it, and his mouth watered for the taste of her. Her cunt. Her nipples. Her mouth. It would be so nice to get this manic frenzy out of the way to spend hours just kissing her mouth.

But he feared their next kiss and their next kiss and their next kiss would lead to this. This irrational need to fall all over each other. This boiling point. This bursting point.

This absolute insanity.

He bit his lip and snatched his eyes up her back to her hair. Gorgeous, thick waves of black tied up to reveal the nape of her neck. He would kiss that sensitive flesh later. For now, he needed to make her come before he shamed himself again. And with those deep, guttural groans she made, he had no more than a few precious minutes to bring her to pleasure before he came against his will.

This was about to turn into a battle, and he was ready to fight dirty.

He gripped the tail of her hair, wrapped it around his knuckles, and tugged. She cried out a sweet, sharp noise of surprise.

She liked that. Loved that. Gods help him, he loved it, too.

He hauled her upright until her back pressed against his chest, and she convulsed a little as she said, "Fuck, Frederick, you're going to make me-"

He seized her throat and growled in her ear, "Stop speaking. You won't force me into coming so quickly this-"

Her moan vibrated against his palm. "Oh, fuck. You're going to make me do it. I mean it. You're really going to make me-"

Shit. Shit. He was going to do it, too.

He reached his other hand around her front and slipped his fingers over her sex, forcing her flat against him. He strummed and stroked, increasing the pressure of his fingertips on her swollen clitoris in time with his thrusts. "Wet ... so fucking wet."

She cried out with abandon and gripped her breasts, toying with herself. Her jacket slipped to her elbow as she pinched and pulled her nipples through the cloth of her tunic until-

"I-I cannot last," he rasped. "Losing my gods-damned mind inside you."

Arabella threw her head against his shoulder and screamed, calling out his name.

His own orgasm climbed up his shaft, threatening to explode at any moment-when he remembered that vampyres could be impregnated.

He didn't know whether or not she wanted that-whether or not he could afford to complicate matters by bringing a child between them. In a split second, he made the decision: he couldn't take the risk by coming inside her-

With a black curse, he pulled out of her just in time. His seed lashed her back as his climax ripped through his body with cruelty.

And he became nothing nothing nothing. Free of everything in this moment where the two of them existed alone. He muttered nonsense for what felt like minutes, rocking against her until the urge to rut dwindled.

A done thing between them.

He brushed the loose hair from her brow and kissed her temple. Incredible. Unbelievable. The things she woke within him. Already his cock twitched against the small of her back for more.

She stepped away, and he gripped the table to stop from wobbling. His mouth, hands, and cock went cold, all heat leaving his body. The blank expression on her face suggested that the aftermath might not be pleasant.

Fuck. Was she mad at him?

She said nothing as she pulled up her breeches and hid the evidence of his arousal, his mind emptying as he caught just how much of his seed he'd unleashed on her. An indecent amount. It shouldn't make him happy to see it on her, but it brought him a wave of primal satisfaction. To have marked her in some way, the same way she'd marked him with her fangs.

She folded her arms and let her gaze fall to his boots, waiting for him to compose himself. He made quick work about righting his clothes, and the tilt of her head signaled that it was time for them to go back to the castle.

They walked instead of vanishing, neither of them saying a word. The silence held significance that he didn't know how to disturb. Surely he should say something, but his saliva turned to glue, his mind puddling with anxiety. She didn't bear the well-mussed look of a woman satisfied. No evidence of their encounter marred her person. She appeared cool. Steady. No one would know that she'd just finished with a lover.

Perhaps he made a poor job of it, but he could not bring himself to ask.

Maybe ... maybe she was disappointed. He should have waited to seduce her properly with dinner and candlelight, just like she wanted.

Instead, he rutted inside her like an animal, treated her like a whore instead of a wife. But he didn't know how to treat a wife, and he didn't know how to tell her that. How could he give her what she wanted without being a complete and utter jackass?

The front of the castle came into view, and he wanted to bang his head against the stone until sense knocked in.

How had he gotten it so wrong?

She said nothing when she left him at the entrance and made her way up a separate staircase. He didn't call for her, but his eyes didn't stray from her back until she was gone, his stare remaining at the top of the stairs long after she left.

His fists clenched and released over and over, his body burning with the memory of her. Burning for her. It was supposed to be done. His curiosity sated. He was supposed to be over his lust for her. But he wasn't.

He wanted her more than ever. Craved with violence. Needed. Demanded.

More.

But she was gone, and he wasn't to know what was in her mind.

A gaping hole became too much to fill as he bathed and dressed, thinking of only her all the while.

Reason told him not to go to dinner. Eating across from her would only humiliate him more but he went. Pride warned him not to speak to her, but he had to do it. Even if they didn't talk about what happened between them, being in each other's presence surely meant that they would try. That they were both willing to try. It wouldn't matter if it was downright awkward, so long as they were together.

And those thoughts shocked him as he made his way to the dining room, dressed in his most pompous, princely attire.

He sat at the table and waited, touching none of the food that Viscon set before him. An hour turned into two, his heart speeding in his chest whenever the flickering shadow of the fire fell upon the doorway.

But she didn't come. She left him there to feast alone. Decided not to face him entirely.

She left him there, and the food spoiled before him as he pushed from the table and made a new decision.

#

"Will this be all?" Viscon said, surveying the lone valise on the bed packed stuffed with pages and clothes.

Frederick clipped the red cape over his shoulders, reminding him of metal-filled battles and bloody knuckles. He would have done anything to be within the proximity of a cool sword and a hot throat. It wasn't lost on him that he'd be returning to Thescan in Carnelian colors.

"That's fine," Frederick said, uncaring. "I don't need anything else. I just want you to take me to my room in Thescan so I may be alone."

"Then surely you are bringing Staff with you," Viscon said, glancing at Frederick's bedside where the ring remained.

He wanted nothing more than to take Staff with him, but it was a present from her, and he didn't want any reminders of her in the meantime. "No. I will leave like this."

"And where are you going?"

Heat waved through him as he faced the spot where Arabella appeared. She was dressed in another conservative black gown with glittering beading, her head held high.

"I've decided to return to Thescan," he said flatly.

"And why does the look in your eye suggest that it will be indefinitely?" Arabella asked.

"Because it will be."

The silence thinned until it sharpened. To Viscon they must have looked like his queen and her lover having a spat. He could probably still smell the sex between them-feel how even now he longed for her. But in the unspoken words a fight flared in his blood, and he wanted to leave or else he might have ended up shouting at her. She would have been able to take it. In fact, she probably would have become mad enough to punch him and he would have welcomed it. Any fucking emotion he could take from her at this point would have been welcome.

"Then Viscon should go and stay with you," she said.

The Hell he would. "He'll take me there and return to Carnelia."

She crooked her neck from side to side, squaring up for a fight. "It would be much wiser to take Viscon with you. And do consider taking Staff."

"I don't want the damned staff," he said, darting a glance at Viscon. He didn't want to disrespect his queen in front of him, but she was leaving him no choice.

She neared him, standing so close that presence touched him without her having to do it. "You're really not coming back?"

The insides of his temples pinched. Arabella was absolutely infuriating, and he wanted to roar that in her face. Instead, he inched toward her, his chest tipping against hers, her eyes dark as they held his. Only hours ago she'd been so passionate. He saw nothing of that now. "You didn't care the last time I went to Thescan. In fact, you said I didn't have to come back. You'd only bother me if the water didn't come." He broadened his arm in a semi-circle. "You have your water. You don't need me now. I'll go, and ..." He stepped back and assessed her. "I won't return. You may send your messenger with a divorce grant. I won't contest it."

Frederick turned to Viscon when she said, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whirled to face her. "You'd like a way out of this marriage. To be done with me."

"I'll make sure you keep the water," he finished. "Viscon, if you please."

Viscon looked between both Frederick and Arabella, uncertain and unmoving.

She sighed. "He's not a prisoner here, Viscon. The prince may leave if he wishes. I do not want to keep him here if he doesn't wish to be kept."

Viscon nodded slowly. "Whenever you're ready, Your Highness."

The silence screamed and howled between them. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, and Frederick realized he would be leaving her there. Alone. For another five thousand years.

So, I guess I'm trying to say thank you, she'd said. For marrying me. For coming here. Because the truth is that since you've come, this prison that has been my life for millenniums has become much easier to bear, and that is just because you're here. Humoring me. When you don't have to be.

The absolute misery on her face reduced to nothing, and she frowned at the ground, concentrating. "Goodbye, Frederick."

Emotion choked his throat as a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and the cool rush of air swept over him before he vanished. He reappeared in his room, the moonlight bathing him with sad welcome.

And just like that, his marriage was over.

"Will that be all, Your Highness?" Viscon asked.

Frederick rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet the man's eyes. "Thank you for everything, Viscon. And I mean everything."

"There is one thing, then, that I feel I must mention." Frederick waited. "You must rescind my invitation here. I currently possess the ability to appear here at will because I've been here before. If you rescind my invitation, you void that power. Of course, it doesn't remove my memory of how to travel here, but to get here I would have to make the journey again, buying you time." He paused. "If you do that then I won't be able to show up unexpectedly, no matter what I'm ordered to do-not that she would ever order me to harm you. It's just something I can offer you to provide you some peace."

Frederick exhaled a shaky breath. A useful piece of information, but it felt wrong to enact. Rude. But for his safety he said, "Then, Viscon, I rescind the invitation. You do not have permission to vanish and appear into the Castle of Thescan any longer."

"Very well." Viscon cleared his throat. "I am sorry to see you go, Frederick." And then he vanished.

Frederick cast his eyes about the room and viewed it with a new perspective. So small. So plain. So unremarkable with absolutely no character in it. No sign that he had even lived there before, even though it looked exactly the same as when he left.

He set his valise on the carpet, crossed the room, and lowered to sit on his old bed. His thoughts faded into the chill of the night, leaving him with nothing but all the silence in Thescan.

A place that felt less like home than it ever did.