EZRA
Isla’s perfume still lingers in the air, sweet and artificial, like roses suffocating under frost. I sit behind my desk, eyes fixed on the grain of wood. But I'm not seeing it.
I'm seeing her.
Not Thea. Isla.
When she sat opposite me. Pale and brittle. Like glass that's already cracked.
The elders said having a mate that's not an Aureate— Aureates are the naturally fated mate for turned vampires— will stabilize me.
Control the hunger Ezra. The council knows best.
They sent her to me like a gift wrapped in silk, like a council sanctioned offering, the second daughter of the twelfth elder of the vampire council.
And I was starving.
Thirsts of monsters like me can't be satisfied by randoms or Sanguara. It can only be managed.
And to satisfy it, she needs to be marked. By me.
