The Vampire Prince

by Juliette N Banks

  “Anyone ever tell you, you’re terrible at following instructions?”

  Willow grinned and ran her hand through his dark curly hair. “Anyone ever told you just how sexy you are?”

  Of course, millions of women would have. How could they not?

  His lips landed on hers as an arm slipped under her, arching her up. The weight of his body increased in a delicious way that made her wish the covers and his clothes would vanish. She groaned against his lips, and felt his body react.

  “God, woman,” he moaned. “You are very goddamn hard to leave.”

  She gazed at him hungrily. “So get back into bed and be late to work for once.”

  Brayden glanced at the blinds, then shook his head. “I’ve got to go, beautiful.” He kissed her firmly before staring at her for a long moment. Finally, he said in a dark and husky voice, “I’ll talk to you in a few hours. Go back to damn sleep.”

  She smiled.

  When she woke up a few hours later, she dragged herself into the shower and out the door. She had an important meeting in the city with a potential new client. The lead had come via her best friend, Brianna, who worked at the software company.

  “You’re here!” the redheaded beauty said, enveloping her in a hug. “Whoa, you look amazing. What are you doing? And how is your ankle now?”

  Blinking for a moment, Willow had to stop herself from sharing her beauty secret: multiple daily orgasms. There wasn’t any shame in what she was doing, although Brianna had some strong morals. No, Willow wasn’t about to start talking about her sex life to her closest friend whose husband had been killed twelve months ago.

  Stationed in Afghanistan, Christian had been just weeks from returning home to her when his unit had been hit by an IED. The bomb had been planted on the road they were traveling on, and detonated. It had completely devasted Bri and his family.

  The shock had worn off and her friend had received therapy, but there were some things in life you never forgot or got over completely.

  “Hmm, you know, supplements, lots of water, exercise. The usual.” Plus thirty-five orgasms in the past three days. No biggie. They sat down in the café downstairs from her offices.

  “And my osteopath adjusted the treatment after seeing my ultrasound results, and it’s made a big difference already.” She wiggled her foot with a grin. “No stilettos for me for a while, though.”

  “You never wore them anyway.” Brianna laughed. “So, are you all prepared for the presentation?”

  “I think so. You said they wanted something disruptive to reach their younger target market, so that’s what I’m giving them.”

  Brianna grinned and sipped her latte. “Awesome, you’re going to rock this!”

  She wasn’t fooling anyone. Willow noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. She reached across the table and laid her hand over hers.

  “Hey, how are you doing? Like, really.”

  Her friend shrugged and looked away into a void. “You know, some days are easier than others. I have so much anger and sadness, I’m not sure what to do with it.”

  She nodded and gave her friend space to keep talking.

  “I just wish I’d had his baby and hadn’t agreed to wait until he returned stateside. He pushed, you know. I’m so angry at him. At myself for agreeing.”

  More nodding.

  Willow wished she could take the pain away, but grief was a solo journey, and everyone had to do it their own way. She could be there for her, though, and ensure she didn’t fade into a dark place. There came a point where it was unhealthy to keep being angry and not forgive life.

  “I know, honey. Are you going to the therapist still?”

  “Yes, but all he keeps saying is I should release my anger and start forgiving. How? How can I forgive?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I want to yell at someone, you know. But who?”

  “At whoever you want. Me, God, Christian, the government, life. Have you tried?” The look in her friends’ eyes said she hadn’t considered it, followed by a confirming shake of her head.

  “No.” Brianna squeezed her fingers. “I know you’ve been through this, and I appreciate your support.”

  It wasn’t the same—grief never was. Willow had lost her parents in a car crash just weeks before her twenty-first birthday. The funny thing was, they’d been talking about getting a divorce, and now in a twist of fate, their souls were resting together, assuming what she knew about the afterlife was true.

  She hadn’t been all that close to her parents, who had both been intellectuals. College professors, they were more interested in her school grades than her feelings. The problem was, Willow had a high emotional intelligence, and they had found her overly emotional, while she had found them cold.

  She knew they had loved her, in their own way, but it hadn’t provided her with the love and sense of belonging she desperately wanted. What all children needed: emotional connection.

  The pattern had inevitably repeated in her romantic relationships, and despite years of therapy, she wondered if she could have a loving connection with anyone.

  They had left her financial security from two life insurance payouts, their LA home, a condo in Hawaii, and stocks. Willow was in a fortunate position for someone so young.

  Still, despite all that, she’d choose to have her parents back in a flash. The pain never went away, but it dulled, and she had learned to forgive life for its unfair choices.

  “Yeah, same but different. No pain is the same, Bri.” They had always supported each other, and never compared their pain. That wasn’t what friendship was about. She leaned back and finished her coffee. “Girl power forever, remember.”

  The two of them had gone to high school together and to Stanford University, where they’d both studied communications. While Willow had ended up building her own freelancing agency, Brianna had stepped into the corporate world.

  “Girl power forever.” Her friend smiled sadly before shaking herself. “Okay, show me what you have before we go up?”

  Willow opened her laptop. “Oh God, yes. Feedback, please!”

  Usually, she would have gone over it the night before with Bri, but Brayden was filling up her life right now.

  When they weren’t having delicious sex where he completely dominated her, he was making her blush and laugh. It was unlike any other relationship she’d been in.

  “Hello.” A finger tapped on her hand.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Alright, what’s going on?”

  “Hmm?” She aimed for vague, but Brianna knew her too well.

  “Oh my God, you have a man!” she said loudly before clapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I’m just so excited for you.”

  Willow looked around them and faux laughed at a few people. “Bri,” she chided. “No, I don’t. Stop. We are not talking about this.”

  Her friend leaned forward. “Because my husband died? God, Willow, you don’t need to become a nun to protect my feelings.”

  Well thank God, or she’d have been failing in the friendship department for the past few days.

  “I don’t care. Still not talking about it. It’s nothing anyway,” she said, and pointed to the screen. “Now let’s go through this. We have ten more minutes.”

  After a long stare, Brianna frowned, knowing she was right. Willow expected to be drilled afterward. As they headed upstairs to the meeting, Willow’s phone beeped.

  Aside from me, what’s your favorite thing to eat? I’m bringing takeout tonight.

  She let out a choking cough in the lift with her best friend and three strangers. Still coughing, she typed a reply and put her phone on silent.

  Turkish. Also...I’m not wearing panties.

  Payback. She grinned and stepped into the presentation feeling fucking awesome.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Brayden gripped his cock tight.

  His girl was getting brave, and he had a whole bunch of mixed feelings about it, especially as they were leaving in just over
six days. And yeah, he’d be spending those days with her, no matter their one-week agreement.

  His girl.

  He chose to ignore that and carried on.

  Throwing his black jacket over the chair, he eyed his bed. He needed to get a few hours’ sleep after running an intense security session with the SLCs and Craig.

  He’d also had a big walk through the facility. Spotting Thomas, he’d wandered up to the vampire and his friends.

  “Officer.”

  In comparison to them, Brayden was big. Really fucking big. At six foot four, he was taller, broader, and his royal blood pumped out a potent and powerful essence.

  The guy bowed low. Really low. “My lord.”

  The slight tremor in his voice was all he needed to hear. He gave the guy a nod and wandered off, confident no gossip would leave his young lips.

  He didn’t care about royal gossip; it was part of being a Moretti brother. But drawing attention to Willow was another thing—keeping her safe was becoming a top priority for him.

  A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He reached out with his energy and felt the queen’s.

  “Kate, come in,” he called out and telepathically unlocked the door. He turned and narrowed his eyes at her upon hearing the speed of her heart rate. “Is everything okay?”

  She stepped in and closed the door. Looking as graceful as any queen in a flowing, knee-length navy dress, she sat in the chair he’d dropped his jacket on. “We need to talk.”

  Shit.

  He stood up. “What’s happened? Is he dead? Do I need to...?” He started for the door, but she held up a hand to stop him.

  “No. Brayden, stop. I need to speak with you privately.”

  He froze.

  “Sit.”

  Kate had no authority over him, even in her role as queen, but this wasn’t royal protocol they were following here. She looked sober, serious, and scared.

  “What is it?” He sat in the chair opposite her, the table in between them. It felt awkward. He wasn’t sure why.

  Kate clenched her jaw. “This has to remain between us. Confidential.”

  He frowned. He was a Moretti; his brother was king. They had no secrets—of great importance—between them, not to mention, it was illegal. “Kate, you know I can’t do it.”

  “But you will,” she said. “If you agree. If not, you will still never repeat this.”

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “You need to tell me what is going on right fucking now,” he said darkly.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them, giving him a piercing stare. She stood from her seat and began pacing. “What you said, about the baby.”

  “You’re pregnant?” He stood, hopeful.

  She shook her head. “No, but I could be.”

  “Then fucking do it.”

  Kate looked down for a second and back up at him. A chill ran up his spine.

  “It’s been one hundred and thirty years, Brayden. Perhaps it’s the disease or whatever is wrong with him,” she said, a mix of sadness and fury in her voice. “Or it could be me. We don’t know.”

  He stared at her.

  “You are right. If there was a baby, I would have something to live for. A child would relieve you of responsibility, in time, and I would be queen mother.”

  He continued staring.

  “It must have royal blood.”

  More staring and the start of a stomach ulcer.

  “Brayden...”

  “Oh, fuck no. No, no, no, fucking no.” He stepped away.

  “It solves both our problems, you know it does,” she said, waving a hand. “It would just be sex. Once. Then...then we just forget it happened, and everyone will think it’s Vincent’s. My cycle, it’s...”

  He stopped listening as she talked about how the window to procreate was open. He didn’t know where to look. The bed? Fuck no. Her? Nope. The door? Yes, a better option.

  “I think you need to leave. You’re right; we will never talk of this again. Ever.”

  She took a step toward him. “Brayden, listen to me. Think of the bigger picture here. Don’t you want to be free? You hate the idea of being king, and we both know he’s weakening.”

  She was right about one thing. If their enemies, the Russos, got wind of the king’s illness, it would make them incredibly vulnerable to a coup.

  Every day the rebellion grew louder, demanding a democracy. He had no idea why, when they only had to look around them and see the shitstorm that looked like among humans.

  The truth was, the rebellion was being driven by Stefano Russo, who desired nothing more than to replace Vincent on the throne. Democracy my ass. The guy was a psychopath.

  He growled.

  “He could still recover, and if I need to step up and become king, you know I will. I’m not an asshole.”

  She winced.

  “God, I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re right. We’ve been hard on you. I know you’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

  She walked across the room and laid a hand on his arm. “We have this window of opportunity before his illness becomes more widely known and a pregnancy questioned.”

  He shook his head.

  “As if anyone would ever dream this possible. Shit, Kate, I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.”

  “For us both, Brayden. For the family, for the race.”

  His mind filled with images of lying to his brother, bedding the queen, and impregnating her. While it was unthinkable, he understood why she was asking.

  Coming to terms with it was another thing altogether.

  “It would be my daughter or son.”

  She nodded.

  “I would never be able to claim it as my own.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “We’d be lying to everyone, as well as committing treason.” Brayden ran a hand through his hair, disgusted with himself for even having this conversation.

  “Think on it. We only have a few days.”

  They’d never be questioned. Spending time with the king and queen was something he did every day, thought Kate didn’t visit his quarters or his rooms at the palace very often.

  Kate was a beautiful female, without a doubt. Tall, graceful, with luscious breasts and curves any male would love to sweep his hands over. She was, however, his brother’s mate, his queen and...ugh, as the thought entered his head, he flung his head back. She wasn’t Willow.

  Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Was she his mate?

  “God, Kate, this is insane,” he cried. “I understand why, but I need to think on it. Go, please. Let me freak out in peace.”

  She turned to leave. With her hand on the door handle, she said quietly, “Don’t take too long.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Stefano Russo stared out at the lush green Italian landscape laid out in front of him.

  For thousands of years, his family had owned this land, and many others. Miles of rolling hills, respectable estates, and award-winning vineyards. They were wealthy, successful, and powerful.

  Like all vampires, they paid taxes to the king. For what? The fuckers lay around in any one of their dozens of castles, flew in their private jets, cruised on their mega yachts, and ate from their fucking gold-plated everything that came from the money other people worked hard for.

  Very rarely did he himself lift a finger, but that wasn’t the point.

  The Russos had challenged the Morettis for centuries. His father, Roberto, had died at the hand of the former king, King Frances. Granted, he had challenged the throne and known the consequences, but all three of the Russo sons had been there that night, as had Vincent and Brayden Moretti.

  After seeing his father’s head roll on the ground as the sword sliced cleanly through, Stefano had sworn to avenge his father.

  As humanity evolved and grew more empowered, so did the unrest among the vampires. It hadn’t taken much to pick on the mo
re vulnerable ones and stoke the fires.

  Soon, there was a noisy rebellion demanding a democracy with him as their leader. They believed he would free them of their taxes—fools—and that their quality of life would improve.

  He himself was a cunning businessman among the humans, and was leader of the vampire resistance. He, along with his brothers Luca and Marco, had promised the rebels—and yes, they had a Facebook group—a democracy where there was equal wealth, fair rules, and their voices heard.

  With him sitting on the throne as king.

  Fuck democracy. What the race needed was a strong leader. One who didn’t let assholes like him be capable of freedom of thought and planned coups.

  He let out a laugh.

  Weak. He shivered in anticipation. The day the Moretti brothers would be weak was drawing closer.

  He was playing dirty, but that’s what it took to get the Morettis off the throne. They were strong and impenetrable with a powerful army. But not for long.

  He had an inside guy now. A vampire close to the king, and trusted. It had been an ingenious idea.

  His, of course.

  Now that they had the king in a weakened state, Stefano was nearly ready to attempt the coup. It was just a matter of weeks now. The only part of the puzzle still left to solve was the vampire prince.

  Brayden Moretti.

  Lethal, powerful, and loyal to his family, it was whispered he was even more powerful than the king.

  They were not strangers; they had known each other all their lives. Every year, the Russos attended the ball and other society events where they rubbed shoulders, showed mock respect, and sneered at each other.

  Brayden had been there the night his father had lost his head, and had spent the rest of the night celebrating and fucking.

  Some had said Stefano was bitter and jealous of the fucking huge vampire. They no longer lived.

  The rebellion was no secret. He had known the moment the Morettis had tried to infiltrate his inner circle, and he’d allowed it, feeding them the information he wanted them to know. They had underestimated his intelligence, and would pay for that arrogance.

  Stefano smirked. He loved the dance of power running through his veins. It sent thrills up his spine and to his groin. He rubbed his hand over his cock.