The Bonded Vampire's Willing Pet

10.Darra

I skipped by his side, partially because my heart tingled with excitement, and also to keep up with his long stride. I’d decided we should walk to the small diner where I usually had breakfast. It wasn’t a long trek, especially since I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Drane. We hadn’t spent long at the food bank, and I still felt like I hadn’t had enough of him.

I chuckled quietly, remembering the look on his face when we first arrived. He’d gaped at me with no small amount of confusion, while I strode into the hall like it was just another ordinary day. I’d acted like it was nothing, even though I was secretly buzzing with nerves.

I looked up at him, eyes brimming with quiet adoration, resisting the impulse to lean over and bite his skin—not hard, just enough to satisfy the itch in my teeth. The cool morning breeze licked at my warm cheeks while the early sun cast a soft glow across his skin. A bit pale, yes, but flawless nonetheless.

What baffled me was how he walked around with those glowing red eyes and no one even blinked. Not one sideways glance, not one whisper of suspicion—just the occasional admiring look, which, to be fair, was understandable. I still hadn’t figured out how he’d managed to evade the club’s security cameras. A question I intended to press on. Eventually.

I skipped closer to him, feeling exactly like a teenager on her very first date with her ultimate crush.

His hands were buried in his pockets, and his gait remained calm, elegant—measured in that graceful, powerful way that belonged only to him. He paid me no attention. Or at least, he pretended not to. But I wasn’t going to be ignored.

I curled my arm around his and slid my hand into his pocket, seeking out his fingers and clasping them in mine. He didn’t stop me, but he did stop walking.

He turned his head slowly and stared down at me like I was some kind of puzzle that refused to solve itself.

His eyes locked on mine. “You do realize what I am, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low and rough—neither warning nor threat, just a statement laced with dark intrigue.

I leaned in, my lips brushing the air between us as I met his gaze with a half-lidded smile.

“That’s exactly why I’m attracted to you,” I said softly, my voice smoky with intent. “Because you’re different.”

His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in focused curiosity, like he couldn’t decide whether I was insane or fascinating.

I didn’t give him the chance to retreat into that icy exterior. I took a slow breath, letting it linger as I tightened my fingers around his in his pocket.

“I’m actually quite interested in your eyes,” I added, letting the words drip slowly from my lips. "There is something about them".

He said nothing at first, just stared at me with those ruby eyes, as if trying to peel back every layer of my soul. I held his gaze—steady, unflinching—letting him look, daring him to see.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You say that now,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Until curiosity burns too close to the flame.”

My lips curled. “I don’t mind the heat,” I whispered.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. For a moment—just a breath—the world around us faded. The people, the noise, even the sun warming my back—it all dulled under the weight of his stare.

Then, my stomach let out a fierce growl.

The spell broke. His head tilted, brows drawing together as he looked down at me with something between confusion and amusement.

“How,” he asked, his voice returning to that low, smooth rumble, “can something so small produce such loud sounds?”

I grinned. Unashamed.

He huffed—not quite a laugh, but something close. Closer than I’d ever gotten.

I scoffed. “What? Don’t you get belly rumbles when you’re hungry?”

His only response was a soft grunt.

“Wait. Seriously?” I blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“My kind does not depend on edible nutrients for food,” he declared, with an air of superiority that practically inflated around him.

He resumed his stride without further explanation, and I struggled to keep up, my shorter legs no match for his ground-devouring pace.

We stopped in front of the diner. At a glance, it looked old and worn—none of that sleek modern polish newer restaurants boasted. But it held a wealth of treasured memories. My dad and I had spent so much time here. Once a month, after working at the food bank, we’d come down together, our table always piled with far too much food for just two people. We’d try different kinds of pancakes, giggling at the strange flavors while patrons cast us bemused glances. It became tradition. A ritual. Something sacred. We were expected here every first Sunday of the month.

It remained one of my fondest memories of him.

I sighed, my chest growing tight at the flood of recollection. My vision misted slightly.

After the old couple who ran it retired, the diner passed to their grandson—young, experimental, and surprisingly talented. Not that the food ever stopped being delicious. I still craved his blueberry muffins and chocolate chip pancakes like they were contraband. I’d never brought anyone here. Not my best friend. Not a single date. Not even my mother. This place had always been my sanctuary—the only place untainted by grief. But strangely, I wanted to share it with Drane. The idea made my heart flutter: a chance to create new memories with someone new. Someone unexpected.

I looked up to find him already watching me.

I smiled and gestured toward the entrance, skipping forward to open the door for him.

“After you,” I said with a flare of dramatics. “Gentlemen first.”

I was too giddy to care about the strange looks I received. Drane shoved his hands further into his pockets, shook his head slightly, and stepped inside. That same puzzled expression lingering on his face—the one he always wore around me. The one I was oddly proud of. I was getting under his skin.

The warm smell of pancakes hit my nose, and my stomach protested the delay. I stepped in behind him—only to smack face-first into his muscled back.

He stood, an unmoving statue a few feet inside the doorway. I couldn’t see past him at first, but as I peeked around his frame, I froze.

Jenny.

She stood way too close, an empty tray in one hand while the other rested firmly on his chest. Star-struck didn’t even begin to describe the look on her face.

My mother and I had never been close. She was always jealous of the bond I shared with my dad. After he died, she twisted things, made me believe I was to blame—that if I hadn’t clung to him so tightly, he’d still be alive. It took years of therapy to crawl out from under that weight.

So jealousy? Not exactly my favorite emotion. I’d always seen it as irrational, something used to justify stupid, possessive behavior.

I knew all of that. I understood it. But at that moment?

As I watched, Jenny’s perfectly manicured claws touched him. While she batted her lashes and bit her lip in a skirt that barely covered half her ass.

I lost it.

My feet moved before my brain caught up. I slapped her hand off his chest with a sharp smack. The sound echoed, drawing every eye in the room.

The green-eyed beast inside me purred with satisfaction as she yelped. Drane was mine. At least for the foreseeable future—and I wasn't going to let this viper wrap herself around him.

“Oops!” I said with false sweetness, baring my teeth in a saccharine smile. “My hand must’ve slipped.”

She looked up, her mask turning bitter when she saw me and I hated that her face was still so pretty even with that expression. Jenny was dangerous. Two years before we graduated, she earned herself the nickname man hooker. She could snatch any guy she wanted—hell, sometimes even girls—and she took pride in it. People used to place bets on who she’d conquer next, and she'd post pictures of her latest victims with the kind of flair that made heartbreak a spectator sport.

Now here she was—blonde waves artfully tousled, face perfectly made up, eyes glinting as she looked between me and Drane.

And then he reached for her hand.

My heart clenched.

He examined the spot I slapped, lifting it like he was about to kiss it.

My face remained placid. My mind? A seething volcano.

“It hurts,” she whimpered dramatically, stepping closer to him. Her eyes found mine, smug as she leaned into his side. When i'd showed no reaction. he then suddenly—he dropped her hand.

The unexpected move made her flinch. His cold countenance did not deter her, as she only smiled wider, batting her fake eyelashes.

“If you’re done standing around,” I said, letting sarcasm coat every syllable, “I’d like to remind you of our reservation.” I dragged out our, making sure she didn’t miss it.

Curling my arm tightly around Drane's. Let her see and choke on it.

She didn’t even acknowledge me. Just smiled sweetly up at Drane and purred, “Right this way.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder. I didn;t imagine the extra sway to her hips as she led us to our table.

I watched the exaggerated roll of her hips and felt the last of my patience snap like a frayed rubber band. She might’ve been crowned the queen of homewrecking in high school, but she was about to learn a hard truth: not everything was hers for the taking.

Especially not him.