Bloodless Desire

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Night Walks and Morning Appetites

The east wing of the castle was a graveyard of dust and silk, but the heavy mahogany door of Analaya’s new chambers shut out the worst of the draft. For the first hour, she lay flat on her back on a mattress that smelled faintly of dried lavender and ancient wood, staring at the high stone rafters. Her body was utterly spent, aching from her father’s blows and the grueling trek across the border, but her mind was wide awake, trapped in a loop. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw glowing crimson. She felt the ghost of a cool, stone-hard palm pressed against her throat.

She rolled onto her side, her green eyes wide in the dark. Silence pressed heavily against her ears, broken only by the rhythmic, distant roar of the Caribbean sea crashing against the limestone cliffs below. The emptiness of the fortress felt less like a threat and more like a challenge. Alejandro was alone here. He was guarding a legacy, pacing these hollow corridors like a god of beautiful, forgotten things.

And she wanted to see him again. The sheer, shameless heat of the thought made her stomach tighten.

By midnight, her restless curiosity won. Analaya slid out of the heavy blankets, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. She didn't have shoes on, her torn green shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, and her long, dark wavy hair was a wild, tumbling mess down her back. Creeping toward the door, she pressed her ear to the wood. Nothing. Slowly, she turned the iron handle and stepped out into the corridor.

The castle at night was a maze of velvet shadows and pale moonlight. Analaya moved like a ghost, keeping her back to the weathered stone walls as she explored, winding her way out of the guest wing. She passed cavernous ballrooms where crystal chandeliers hung draped in cobwebs, and long galleries lined with portraits of stern, ancient vampires whose painted eyes seemed to track her movements. The architecture was towering and European, but the air was entirely tropical—scented with night-blooming jasmine and the damp, heavy breath of the surrounding jungle sneaking through the high, open arches.

Driven by a magnetic pull she couldn't suppress, her footsteps led her toward the master tower. She knew she shouldn't be here. She knew the rules he had laid down over tea. But the danger was an intoxicating drug, making the pulse in her throat throb with a wild, erratic rhythm.

She reached a set of carved double doors that stood slightly ajar. A faint, low blue light flickered from within. Holding her breath, Analaya leaned closer, her heart hammering against her ribs as she peeked through the gap.

It was his bedchamber. A massive four-poster bed draped in dark, heavy silk stood against the far wall. But the sheets were perfectly smooth. He was not in his bed.

Analaya frowned, a sudden wave of disappointment washing over her. She stepped back, preparing to turn around, when the temperature in the hallway dropped instantly. The air grew thick with the scent of cedarwood, fresh rain, and lethal power.

Before she could even spin around, a towering shadow fell over her.

A collective gasp tore from her throat, a sharp scream cutting through the dead silence of the hallway. But the sound was brutally cut short. In a fraction of a second, a cool, incredibly strong hand clamped around her wrist, twisting her body effortlessly. With a low, heavy thud, Analaya was pinned flat against the stone wall, the rough surface scratching through her torn shirt.

Alejandro loomed directly over her, his tall frame completely blocking out the moonlight. His posture was devastatingly dominant, his chest mere inches from hers, trapping her in a space so small she could feel the unnatural coolness vibrating off his body. His short, straight jet-black bob fell forward, framing his pale, razor-sharp face. His crimson eyes burned down into hers like twin fires in the dark.

The physical proximity was overwhelming. Analaya’s breath hitched, a wave of liquid heat pooling heavy and low in her abdomen. She couldn't resist him. Every instinct she possessed didn't want to run away; it wanted him closer. Caught in the sheer shame of her own intense attraction, she jerked her chin down, looking away toward the dark floorboards to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

"Look at me," Alejandro commanded. His deep voice was a smooth, dangerous velvet purr, the warm lilt of his Caribbean cadence vibrating straight through her skin.

When she didn't move, his cold fingers slid up from her wrist, his thumb and forefinger catching her jawline. His grip wasn't brutal, but it was unyielding, his silk-wrapped stone fingers forcing her chin up, directing her face back toward his.

"What are you doing here, little bird?" he hissed, his plush lips parting just enough to catch the gleam of his fangs.

"Exploring," she gasped out, her green eyes locking onto his crimson ones with a fierce, trembling defiance.

"I clearly told you to stay away from my sight," he murmured, his thumb rubbing just beneath her lip, a micro-dynamic of pure possession that sent an electric shiver down her spine.

"I know," she whispered, her breathing shallow, her chest rising and falling hard against his.

"So?" His crimson eyes dropped to her mouth, tracking the way her lips parted for air.

"I..." Analaya choked on her words. She had absolutely nothing to say. She couldn't tell him she was a horny fool who just wanted to see his beautiful face again.

Alejandro watched her for one more agonizingly long second, his gaze searching her face, catching the way her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat. A faint, dark smirk played at the corner of his lips, knowing exactly the effect he had on her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his fingers trailed down her neck before he let her go entirely, stepping back into the shadows.

"Go back to your room, Analaya," he whispered into the dark. "Before I forget that I promised to let you live."

She didn't need to be told twice. Turning on her heel, she sprinted down the hallway, her bare feet flying over the stone until she burst back into her room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. She slid down the wood, her knees shaking, her entire body trembling from a volatile mix of terror and pure, unadulterated lust.

Shifting to the heavy bed, she crawled under the sheets, her skin still burning where his fingers had touched her jaw. The image of his sharp jawline, his pale skin, and those plush, cruel lips wouldn't leave her mind. Unable to resist the ache pooling between her thighs, she slid her hand down her stomach, closing her eyes and picturing him pinning her to the wall, letting her imagination run wild with his dark, dominant presence until the early hours of the morning finally brought her to a breathless, shaking release.

When the pale morning light finally filtered through the high arched windows, the heavy scent of smoke and sweetness woke her. Analaya rubbed her eyes, her long wavy hair tangled around her shoulders, and followed the smell down the eastern corridor toward a small, sunlit brick kitchen she hadn't noticed the night before.

Standing by a massive iron stove was Alejandro. The morning sun hit his pale skin, making him look ethereal, almost angelic if not for the lethal grace of his movements. He had rolled up the sleeves of his dark shirt, revealing his lean, muscular forearms. He held a silver spoon, carefully watching a pan on the fire.

"I don't get why you humans have to eat," Alejandro started the conversation without turning around, his deep Caribbean lilt smooth and contemplative. "Or so I heard in a book I once read. It seems an incredibly tedious way to sustain life."

He turned slightly, his sharp black bob shifting against his cheek as his crimson eyes met hers. "I mean... im making you blueberry cakes."

He spoke slowly, his velvet voice dipping into an amused tone as he lifted the heavy bowl and poured the thick, purple-specked mix into the sizzling pan.

Analaya pulled out a heavy wooden chair and sat down at the table, her green eyes tracking the flex of his shoulders. Her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence.

A few minutes later, Alejandro slid a hot porcelain plate in front of her, stacked high with perfectly golden blueberry cakes, steam rising from the fruit. He didn't take a plate for himself. Instead, he stepped back, leaning his tall frame against the stone counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he just observed her.

Analaya looked at the food, the rich, buttery sweetness hitting her tongue before she even took a bite. The starvation of her long journey and the years of deprivation in her father's house caught up to her all at once. She picked up the fork and began to devour it, eating with a fierce, ravenous hunger as if it were her absolute last meal on earth.

Alejandro stood perfectly still, his crimson eyes tracking every movement of her mouth, completely fascinated by the raw, desperate vitality of the human girl sitting in his empty kitchen. He watched the flush on her skin as she ate, a soft sound of approval leaving her lips that made his own fangs prickle behind his teeth. To an immortal who survived solely on blood and memory, her frantic, messy appetite was an incredibly intoxicating display of pure life. He leaned his head back against the stone, the dark bob of his hair parting slightly over his forehead, completely unable to take his eyes off her. Every drop of syrup she wiped from her lower lip felt like an invitation he wasn't supposed to accept.