Lazarus' POV
Fiddling with the buttons of my coat, I felt soft fingers brushing against my bare chest, sending delicious shivers across my body. My skin tingled in the aftermath of her touch. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and what I saw was not something I had ever prepared myself for, not even in the deepest corners of my fantasies.
My Rose.
She sat on top of me, straddling me with a confidence and heat that took my breath away. Her sleeves slipped down her arms, her collar barely managing to cover the swell of her bosom. Strands of her dark hair, messed up and damp, stuck to the glistening curve of her neck. Her skin glowed with sweat and arousal, and her eyes- oh gods, her eyes- were clouded with an unmistakable lust.
Lust.
I never imagined I'd see that expression grace her innocent features. But gods above and hell below, it turned me on like nothing ever had. I felt like I was coming undone.
Her full lips curved into a pout when her fingers failed to undo the last stubborn button.
"Laz," she whined, her voice thick with frustration and a sultry purr that made my entire body tighten with need.
Her breathy moan had my cock twitching beneath her. I growled low in my throat, responding to her desperate need with one of my own. Slowly, she rolled her hips, rubbing her core over me through the fabric.
"Laz..!"
Gods, that voice. It was too much.
Unable to bear the sweet torture, I placed one hand on her hips, the other sliding up to cradle the back of her neck. I held her still, eyes burning into hers. Pulling her down to me, I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent like it was oxygen. Her aroma sweet, rich, uniquely hers sent me spiraling.
Kissing the soft curve of her neck, I murmured against her skin, "Say that again, Rose."
"What?" she asked, voice dazed, eyes glazed with arousal.
"What you just called me," I answered, biting down gently on her neck.
"Ah! Laz," she moaned.
"Again," I grunted.
Her name fell from my lips in muffled whispers as I covered her skin in my marks, little red bruises that screamed mine.
"Laz," she gasped again, voice almost reverent.
My eyes glowed red, control teetering on the edge of oblivion. Everything inside me screamed to mark her, claim her, make her mine forever.
"Again, Rose," I growled.
I gasped as her hand found its way to my erection, her warm palm wrapping around my length through the fabric of my trousers. That single touch undid me completely. My breath caught, my back arched, and I felt my resolve crumble.
I shut my eyes, flushed and trembling, pressing her even closer to me as I whispered her name like a sacred chant.
"Rose."
"My Rose."
"Ugh... Rose."
"Ros-"
My eyes snapped open.
I lay in bed, drenched in sweat, my heart racing like I'd run a marathon. My breathing was ragged, and my skin burned with phantom touches.
A dream.
Just a dream.
Running a hand through my tousled hair, I sat up on the edge of the bed, exasperated and confused.
What the actual hell?
No one, not in centuries had ever made me feel like this. Not even close. And here she was, this fragile human girl, haunting my every moment, waking and sleeping.
It was the first time I'd ever had a dream like that. Hell, a wet dream. My control, usually solid as stone, was cracking like thin ice beneath her feet.
I remembered how I stared at her in the hallway, like some obsessed madman. And when that cursed prince looked at her with those greedy eyes, something dark and primal awakened in me. Jealousy, sharp and brutal.
Possessiveness. Territoriality. Madness.
She was unlocking pieces of me I hadn't known existed.
But that's the thing- humans don't feel the mate bond like we do. For them, it's just a deep attraction. A pull.
I didn't want Rose to want me because of some supernatural tie. I wanted her to want me entirely, with her whole being, the same way I craved her from every corner of my soul.
Vampires are very different when it comes to mates. There are rules, truths, consequences:
There is no fixed age at which a vampire meets their mate. An eye contact, accidental or intentional, could ignite the bond at any moment, regardless of age.
Before that first eye contact, you can't even smell your mate. But after marking them, their scent becomes your addiction. It hits you like a punch to the chest and stays, intensifying over time. Some vampires fall into a heat, a maddening, unrelenting desire for days, sometimes even months.
Once marked, the mate, if human, begins to turn. Our venom doesn't kill, it transforms, slowly awakening the dormant cells, altering physiology, extending life.
We don't get second chances. There's no "next time." It's one mate, one bond, one eternal connection. And because of that, vampires cherish their mates beyond comprehension. Losing a mate is worse than death- it's the end of sanity.
If a bonded mate dies, the vampire loses all control. Some go feral. Others lose their will to live entirely. Most must be eliminated to prevent catastrophic exposure of our kind to humans.
A vampire's mate could be anyone- a human, another vampire, a witch, a fae, even a werewolf. But werewolves? They almost always reject us. That ancient feud between our species? It runs deep. And because werewolves do get second chance mates, they consider us disposable.
I rose from the massive, cold bed and walked to the tall windows. Beyond the frosted glass, I could sense her. Even miles away, her scent called to me.
Strawberries, honey, almonds.
Mouth-watering, addictive, sinful.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent wrap around my senses like velvet. It made my head spin, made my fangs itch.
If she smelled this intoxicating now, unmarked and untouched, I couldn't imagine what it would be like once I marked her. Once the bond was complete.
She would drive me insane.
Opening my eyes, I glanced toward the East Tower. Her chamber. I could see her pacing from a distance, a little silhouette with so much fire in her heart.
A surge of possessiveness clawed at my insides. My little mate.
My Rose.
'Here comes the wolf, my little bunny,' I thought, eyes glowing crimson.
I would not let anyone take her from me. Not princes. Not laws. Not fate.
She was mine.
And gods help the one who tried to come between us.