CHAPTER ONE

H e knew this was all kinds of wrong, exposed in the castle’s halls like this, but the redheaded seductress had flung her hair over her neck, and a juicy vein was pumping with excitement.

It wasn’t her blood Craig wanted; it was her creamy skin.

For now.

He ran a finger over it and felt her shiver in his arms. The corner of his mouth twitched, and hey, look at that, so did his cock.

He glanced around, even though he knew no one was near, then leaned in.

Liiiick.

God, she was delicious.

She groaned softly, and it was all he could do not to scoop her up and take her back to his room. His mouth moved over her jaw and claimed her lips softly, then deeper, harder as she responded to him. Another moan against his lips...

Whomp.

Fuck.

That had been his own damn moan, he realized as his chin bounced off his chest.

Mother-fucking-fucker.

He’d fallen asleep at his desk, daydreaming about one sexy human redhead named Brianna Jones.

She was currently living at Castle Moretti because, apparently, they were taking in humans now. Well, not exactly, but over the past few weeks, there had been two different humans at the enormous royal structure.

The first had been Willow, who’d arrived as the mate and guest of Prince Brayden Moretti. And now she was a vampire.

Thank fuck.

Not that one walked in a human and came out a vampire.

Generally.

The prince had given her the choice of turning immortal or remaining human, the latter requiring him to wipe her memory and let her go back to her life—a near impossible feat for a mated male, especially one as dominant an alpha as Brayden. Craig wasn’t sure if he respected the hell out of the guy for having the strength and courage to go through with it or if he considered him a fucking moron.

Probably both.

Most vampires turned their human mates then asked for forgiveness afterward. A dick move for sure, but one with far less stress.

The thing about bonded males was they lost their goddamn minds if they lost their mate. If Willow had chosen her humanity, he knew Brayden would have sunk into a very dark place. He would have been a dangerous flight risk to the race and a danger to humans, and very few vampires would’ve had the strength to bring him back besides Craig.

Thank fuck it didn’t matter now. Craig was still wiping his brow. Capturing Brayden Moretti would not have been easy. Even for him.

But he would have. Not because he was the commander of the Royal Vampire Army, not because of their bromance, and not because he’d been close to the edge himself once. No. It had to do with the Moretti blood, something Craig shouldn’t know about. The blue blood was uniquely powerful, and Craig had the juiced-up shit running through his veins. And he shouldn’t. No one outside the Moretti family should.

Occasionally, the Moretti’s shared blood for all number of reasons; however, the small amount quickly flushed through a vampire’s system.

Except for Craig’s.

He’d always been one of the most lethal vampires in the race, and after Brayden had shared his blood one fateful eve, it hadn’t left his system. He figured it was because he’d had a shitload of the stuff, but he couldn’t be sure. In fact, everything was a calculated guess because he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Especially not the Moretti’s.

Over hundreds and hundreds of years, he’d witnessed the power of their blood, and had put two and two together. That he held some of their family power within him had remained his most closely warded secret, one he occasionally wondered if the prince was aware of.

And now there was a new Moretti.

The race was abuzz with the upcoming royal livestream via VampNet of Brayden and Willow’s official bonding ceremony. The king had declared the royal ball and the prince’s bonding ceremony would become one event, not wanting to delay their bonding nor hold two events given the rebel activity. Immediately afterward, Willow would be crowned a princess. And the sassy vampire princess-to-be wanted her human bestie attending the not-human, not-wedding ceremony.

Brianna.

He groaned, dropped his feet to the floor, and pushed his chair away from his desk. Standing and stretching his tall body, he reached down and gave his cock a rough squeeze. Damn thing wouldn’t soften, not since the little witch had arrived.

Brianna had found her way across the damn country after some LAPD guy had traced Willow’s phone. The same guy who was going to eat a bullet if the redhead was sleeping with him.

Shit, he should be grateful the cop hadn’t gotten a task force together and shown up looking for Willow himself. They would have found a supposedly missing person with a new set of fangs; not that Brayden or Craig would have let any law enforcement or human retain their memories, but it would have been a big fucking cleanup job.

He groaned once more. This was why they strictly kept humans out of their world. It got messy. Fast.

Craig ran a hand over his short blond hair. He still couldn’t believe the female he’d nearly fucked in the bathroom of a dirty LA bar was Willow’s best friend. The same one who’d slammed her front door in his face and who stalked his damn dreams. Including, apparently, his waking ones.

He’d stopped short of lifting her skirt, and now the little witch wanted nothing to do with him. Craig didn’t truly know why he hadn’t just pushed inside her. She had been wet and ready after eye-fucking him all night. He’d gripped her neck and sucked on those full lips of hers, holding her up against the grimy white tiles while electric lights beamed down on them. Hardly the stuff of romance novels.

He remembered the sudden, overwhelming feeling that this female deserved so much better even as her body melted against his like a furnace. Something had stirred within him and made him stop. An odd nagging in the back of his mind he just couldn’t grasp.

A conscience?

God, he was thinking like a human. Vampires fucked; they fucked a lot. Humans, vampires, males, females—it didn’t matter. When you weren’t mated, it was like a kind of sport, and he’d qualified for the Olympics a hundred times over. Craig wasn’t lacking for options, and never had been. Females were drawn to his size, his raw masculinity, and his supposed bad boy vibe.

But he was no bad boy. He was the commander of the Royal Vampire Army and second in command to Prince Moretti, who also held the title of captain. Craig protected the Moretti family and upheld the vampire laws; he didn’t break them.

But yeah, he was no saint. If you fucked with one of his, he’d snap your neck and rip your head off to hang on the washing line. Not that he had a washing line.

The old head rip was one of only three ways to kill a vampire; to step in the sun or a stab to the heart were the other options. Where the humans had gotten the idea it needed to be with silver was beyond him. A ruptured heart was a ruptured heart, whether done with plastic, silver, or steel.

He shook his head.

He really thought he’d done the right thing following his instinct and pulling her skirt down, especially after he’d all but dragged her in there. She’d been willing, sure, but shy. He had been taking advantage for sure. The reaction he had gotten in return had been anger, something which had confused the hell out of him while he was busy congratulating himself for being a gentleman.

He had walked an angry Brianna back out to her work friends, who were being charmed by one of his vampires, Lance, and come to a screeching halt. Brayden and Willow were staring at them. It turned out his angry redhead was Willow’s bestie.

The saving grace at that moment was Willow not yet knowing the prince was a vampire, so she had grabbed Brianna and dragged her off for a dance while he’d been left to explain himself to Brayden.

He’d promised to leave her alone, and he had meant every word. At the time.

Except things hadn’t quite gone like planned.

A few days later, he’d shown up at Brianna’s house with a half-assed excuse so he could see her again. He had been confronted by a wild, stubborn female who turned his cock to stone.

She’d told him she had felt rejected.

He’d kissed her.

She’d slammed the door in his face.

So that had gone well.

He’d thought it would be the last he ever saw of her. Yet here she was, sleeping in the castle, and he was going out of his damn mind. No amount of jerking off was resolving the permanent ten-inch problem in his pants.

He needed her gone, and he needed to get laid.

Damn sexy little witch.

If only she’d let him explain.

He hadn’t fucking rejected her. Not at all. He had planned to fill her with a few more drinks and then take her home. Actually, he hadn’t been thinking quite that clearly; he just knew he wasn’t fucking her in the damn bathroom. God, if only he could get her into his bed and take his time while he licked every inch of that creamy, soft body.

Instead, now when they were in the same room, she could barely look at him while he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. Brayden would sneer at him, warning him off, but it didn’t matter. Brianna Jones had no time for him. If she did speak to him, it was all sass. And that just made his body want hers even more.

But sass aside, Craig saw the shadows in her eyes. Her pain struck him. He didn’t know what it was, but he had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect her. She would reject him, of course, but it didn’t change how he felt. Even as he was trying to ignore it himself.

He needed to get her out of his head.

Later he was going to hit the bars, and if someone was looking for a blond, six foot four, tattooed bad boy built like a brick shithouse to ride like a cowboy, they were going to get lucky.

Male or female—he didn’t give a shit.

He just needed Brianna out of his head.