Twenty-year-old Claire must deceive a vampire prince to infiltrate the monarchy and discover their secrets while resisting her desire for him.
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Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Including the mission my family has sent me on.
My sister and...
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Proposer (verb) to suggest; to offer; to propose
We were alone once again, now that her chosen two had finished their performance and left us.
Claire was standing at the window with a hand pressed to the cold glass, silently staring at the mountains beyond. Her heart rate had settled into a normal rhythm, which was pulsing from the bloodstone against my chest.
I wished I knew what she was thinking after watching Tansy and Devlinn make love.
I knew what I was thinking.
Swallowing hard, my gaze settled on the strings of her bodice that were tied at the base of her spine. Right above the curve of her bottom.
They were strings that needed pulling. Laces that needed loosening.
And then there was her skin, so soft and creamy, hiding behind the curtain of lilac hair.
Skin that needed the attention of lips and teeth and my very curious tongue.
But I'd pledged not to touch her again, at least not like that. The only thing I'd be doing with her was that which I was allowed. To drink from her. But I didn't trust myself to put my lips against her skin, not right now, no matter how dry my throat was.
As casually as I could, I plucked one of the moonflowers from a crystal vase and came to stand beside her at the window, staring out at the majesty beyond.
She drew in a deep breath and blew it out, her warm breath fogging the glass, but otherwise didn't acknowledge me.
Awkwardly, I extended the blossom to her and, steeling my nerve, asked, "Would you care to take a tour of the grounds? I can show you the greenhouse where the moonflowers were cut."
I was eager to show her my home. Her home. I wanted to show her all the places we'd talked about on the journey here. Those nights when we'd stayed up late, getting to know one another bit by bit.
"No," she said, softly shaking her head, eyes trained straight ahead. "I want to be alone."
Alone? But she looked so...sad. Standing in front of this window.
I took a step closer to her, but she recoiled. "Please, Bastien," she whispered, meeting my gaze for the first time.
I studied her face, trying to read what was going on in her head, and realized she wasn't alright. There was something wrong. And by the way she was acting, it was my fault.
And I think I knew why.
"You're upset with me."
She pressed a too sweet smile on her face, then cast her attention back out the window. "No, my lord. Just tired."
