The Vampire King’s Captive

MARIA

“What are you doing here?”

It was the second time she was asking him that question and like the first time, he ignored her, staring at her with a blank expression that somehow managed to make her feel like she had done something wrong.

She really didn’t know what his issue was. He’d come into the room, took one look at her, stormed outside, then stormed back into the room, parked his ass on the bedside table and proceeded to stare at her with that eerily blank expression.

He was really starting to creep her out.

There was something seriously wrong with the man. She didn’t know how he could stare at her and then pretend that he wasn’t hearing a single thing she was saying.

The physician that he’d spoken about never showed up and she didn’t know why. She didn’t bother to ask because she already felt loads better than she did yesterday and gods, she couldn’t explain what it felt like to sleep in an actual bed after so long.

It had been surreal. She’d slept like a baby throughout the night, only to wake up this morning to food by her bedside. It was almost like she was back to living at the palace.

But then before she could even finish her meal, Bran had stormed into her room, popping the bubble she’d been in.

“Why don’t you ever just trace in?” She wondered out loud, partly out of curiosity and also because she wanted to spite him. “I mean, it’s your castle and you have been in this room before. It’s not like you can’t.”

She was on the opposite side of the bed from where the table where he sat was and she had her back to him so she couldn’t see his face while she spoke. That was deliberate. She swung her leg over the side of the bed, staring at her feet-at her toenails that were clean for the first time in as long as she could remember.

“And it’s not like you give a damn what I think about you; you’ve proved that countless times.” She continued, “So why don’t you ever trace into the room? Why do you take your time to come through the door? I mean, its not like you knock or anything-gods forbid you do something that suggests you have morals after all-but when you think about it, why would-”

“Another word and you’ll find yourself back in your cell so fast, you’d get whiplash.”

She turned her head and glared at him. He returned her glare with a blank stare. Did he have to be such an asshole? She was having the time of her life and this miserable man was trying to ruin it for her. Even though it was one of the best moods she had ever seen him in, he was still an asshole. That should say a lot about the man.

What was he even doing here, really?

She stood up from the bed, planning to have her bath when she stopped, remembering that he was there and there was no way she was having her bath while he sat there, watching her like a fucking creep.

“I’m about to have my bath. You need to leave.”

“Why?”

Why? Was he serious?

“Because I need to have my bath and you can’t be in here while I do.” She enunciated each word slowly, as though she was explaining it to a toddler-or in this case, the man with the thickest skull she had ever met.

“Why?” He repeated again and the urge to strangle him was so overwhelming in that moment, it was almost impossible for her to fight it.

“Why else?” She snapped, unable to hold on to her patience anymore. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

A muscle popped in his jaw-the telltale sign of his anger-and his lids lowered over his eyes. “Don’t fucking raise your voice at me.”

She swallowed, retreating. “I-I’m sorry. I just need to have my bath-” She paused when she realised that she had just been about to call his name-and she didn’t know it. “Whats your name?”She asked the question softly. Extra softly in hopes of goading him to answer.

“Bold of you to assume I’d tell you.”

She gasped. She had not expected his words to hurt as much as they did.

He could go to hell for all she cared. She would keep calling him ‘her captor’ in her head and if it managed to slip out once or twice when she talked to him, then that was his problem.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

She was done trying to be nice to him. He didn’t deserve it. He was not worth it at all.

She felt his eyes on her back as she trailed into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth for the second time this morning simply because she could. She’d had to eat and speak with a stinking mouth for over two weeks, she was allowed to brush as many times as she wanted.

After brushing, she had a hot water bath that did a lot to soothe her aching muscles. It was when she had dried her body that she remembered that she would have to walk back out to go to the closet and pick out something to wear.

She cursed, wrapping her towel tighter around herself like armour. She tensed, bracing herself to walk out there and face him, but then thought, fuck it. She knew the kind of body she had and she knew how it affected him. She’d seen it more than once.

And it wasn’t like she had not asked him to leave. He’d insisted on staying, so he was going to deal with the circumstances that came with it.

She pulled the bathroom door open, steam following her as she stepped out and into the room.

Even if she were being paid to, she wasn’t sure that she would have been able to stop herself from looking at her captor to catch to look on his face.

He’d been staring at his feet before, but the minute she stepped out, his head flew up and his eyes landed on her body, trailing slow lines of fire along her skin as he took her in. He started from her feet, then slowly, he made his way upwards, pausing when he reached the point where her towel ended and inhaling sharply, then continuing only to pause again when his eyes reached where the towel was fastened just above her breasts.

Gods, how was this man making her so hot? Hotter than even the shower had made her? Was that even possible?

Heat pooled low on her stomach and wetness pooled in her center. It was so sudden and so profound that she had to squeeze her legs together in a bid to soothe the ache she felt. But it didn’t help. If anything, it made the emptiness even more glaring.

Her nipples had gone hard and stiff and they chaffed against the towel uncomfortably.

She was about to melt into a puddle of arousal right there in front of him and he had not even touched her yet. He was doing this to her body just by looking at her. How then would she react when he put his hands on her?

The image it produced in her mind caused a small moan to escape her lips before she could clamp it down.

She didn’t know if the sound she made had anything to do with it but suddenly, he was pushing away from the table and stalking towards her like a predator hunting its prey.

It was almost ironic, considering that she usually was the predator, but with a man like her captor, one would always be the prey.

And she would willingly give herself over as prey, if only he looked at her like that more. Like she was his one and complete focus.

It was such a heady feeling.

When he had closed the distance between them, he gripped her chin and used the hold to lift her face until she was looking up at him. Butterflies swamped her stomach anew at the sight of his wickedly handsome face.

He squeezed her chin until she had to part her lips from the small sting of pain.

He ground down on his molars when his eyes fell to her lips, looking thoroughly pissed for reasons she couldn’t possibly fathom. “What are you doing to me?”

“What do you mean?” She whispered, her eyes trained on his firm lips. She willed him to kiss her. Willed him so much that if she’d had her powers, he would already be kissing her this very moment.

His hand dropped from her chin to her upper arm and he pulled her closer to him. Just when she thought he was going to close the remaining distance between them and kiss her, he shoved her away so hard, she stumbled for a bit before righting herself.

“Get dressed.”

Reeling from the onslaught of emotions she was feeling-some of them being lust, anger and rejection, she staggered into the closet.