B Positive by Jewel Killian

Thirteen

“You look famished.Let’s get you something to eat,” Julian rumbled as he led me through the compound. When we entered the kitchen, I did my best not to gasp.

Again, I knew this room inside and out on paper. Knew there was a hidden butler’s pantry behind a door made to look like cabinetry. Knew about the wine cellar entrance hidden next to the butler’s pantry. I even knew that the kitchen had gas and electric hookups capped off and hidden behind decorative tile for caterers who brought extra equipment.

But I hadn’t known how comfortable Julian would look wielding a cast iron pan, chopping red onions and peppers, whisking eggs, and flipping an omelette. I expected him to ask someone to get me something, not delicately sprinkle chopped parsley over a five-star, fluffy, de-fucking-licious-looking two-egg omelette.

I also hadn’t expected to see an Italian villa-style kitchen in the king’s compound. Terra-cotta walls and rich wood-toned cabinets with deep bronze fixtures and drawer pulls made the space warm and strangely homey.

Definitely not the professional, all white, stainless steel kitchen I’d expected when I first memorized the blueprints.

He slid the plate to me, and I took a bite then sighed with satisfaction as Julian set another Starbucks cup of blood in front of me. This one was a summer theme with a purple-to-blue gradient swirling up the outside. I took a long sip and sighed again.

Julian sat across from me at the quartz island, watching as I devoured everything he put in front of me. The omelette, sliced mango, and even the toast, which was a little dark for my taste.

Expectations subverted once again.

I stared into his warm gaze. “Who are you?”

He answered without hesitation. “I am the king of Laurel Cove.”

“No. That’s what you do, Julian. I’m asking who you are. What’s important to you? What do you stand for?”

He nodded, taking me in for a full minute before answering. “Unlinking a man from his job is a difficult task, Eden. I am the king. It’s who I am as much as it is what I do.”

I held his gaze and waited for him to actually answer me.

“You’ve spoken with Sunny, yes?”

I waved a hand and reached for the Starbucks cup. “Briefly. About blueprints.”

“Did she tell you anything about herself?” Julian asked as he cleared away my plates.

“No.” And why would she?

“Normally, I wouldn’t relay personal or private information about anyone, but given the timeframe, I’m making an exception.”

I tensed, unsure I wanted him to continue.

“You are a turned vampire. Born human, bitten, and then transformed.”

“Right. Already knew that.” And if this turns into another “why didn’t your maker teach you anything” I swear to God…

“Sunny is a living vampire. She was born of two vampires and will live her human life until she feels ready to transition herself, which, for her, requires no bite. No vampire venom. Sunny will die and be reborn as one of us because that’s what she is.”

Living vampire?

What?

When I’d first met her I assumed she was a vampire because she was Julian’s assistant. I hadn’t bothered to notice her scent to make sure.

“You’ll find a mixture of living and turned vampires in Laurel Cove and both kinds work for me in my compound. But you won’t find that across the river in Titus’s tower. He believes made vampires are blasphemous. A perversion of our true form. He also believes that vampires are superior to every other race and therefore doesn’t police his vampires the way I’ve done here.”

That was not at all where I thought this was going. But I nodded along all the same. “The nests, right? They keep vamps from getting too territorial.”

“Exactly. Nests keep order, but Titus encourages his vampires to fight for their ranks and honor. He’s wanted to expand his territory for years.” His gaze held mine firmly, but the discomfort and urge to flee wasn’t present this time. “That is what I’m about, Eden. Making certain Titus doesn’t get a foothold in Laurel Cove and force me out. He’d kill every one of the made vampires I’ve offered sanctuary to, and claim the cove and all its resources, including that wolf pack on the edge of town, the witches who live in secret here, and those god-awful fae in the south.

“I won’t allow that tyrant’s reach to grow any further. And I need your help to do it, Eden.”

In his gaze swam rivers of resolve and…

I leaned in, hoping to catch more of his scent and test a theory.

The pine and cedar notes of Julian’s scent were strongest, dominating the spiced vanilla and smokey match head notes.

Was this what protectiveness smelled like on a vampire? “What do you need from me, Julian?”

A low rumble escaped his throat. “First, I need you to stop calling me by my given name.”

“Why not? Don’t you like your name?” I popped an eyebrow up and finished off the last of the blood. “I’m keeping this cup, too.” I said, tucking it closer.

“It’s not a question of whether I like my name, it’s a matter of respect, Eden. I am the king. You’ll refer to me as such, or nothing at all.”

“Oh, I do apologize, King Julian. I just assumed you’d want to distance yourself from a title that makes you sound like a crazy little monkey.”

His shoulders tightened as he leveled a stern look at me. “What are you talking about, Eden?”

“Madagascar? You know, the cute little lemur?”

Nothing. No recognition whatsoever on the vampire king’s face.

Okay, media references were out, I guess.

He stayed staring at me, and I didn’t back down. Still didn’t feel the need to run away.

I did, however, have the urge to grab him by the shirt and press my lips to his.

Instead, I reached for my cup of blood and took a long sip of nothing.

“You realize the only reason you can hold my stare or say my name without a title is because you’re my mate?”

The cup slipped from my fingers, bouncing on the quartz with a flat plastic pop. “That’s not something we need to discuss right now.” I turned away, but he blurred to the other side of the island and put himself directly in my line of sight.

“It’s also why your temperature rises in my presence and why you’re constantly thinking of all the ways you’d like to fuck me.”

My gaze darted to his. “I do no such thing!”

He smirked at me. A gorgeous, cocky, fuck-boy smirk if ever I saw one. “You can’t lie to me, Eden. We’re mates. I know every dirty little thought you’ve ever had about me.”

My eyes widened, mouth parting in a stupid, surprised little O.

Oh my God, can he fucking read my mind?

Unbidden, my brain cataloged and replayed, in crystal-clear detail, every sexual fantasy I’d had about him. Every time I’d wished I could rip his clothes off. Like in the study that first time when my body was fucking humming. Or when he’d pressed me against the wall of the great room.

Or how often I’d thought his voice alone could make me come.

Oh my god, how many times had I thought of him as a fuckable king?!

“Just stop calling me that! I’m not anyone’s mate, okay?”

“But you are, sweet Eden. And that’s exactly what’s going to keep you safe.”