Little Lies by Elena Reyes (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

I can talk to those that have passed and everything breathing, no matter the species.

Their king wants me, to possess that kind of power at all costs, and has killed many in his search.

And yet, the moment our eyes met, a sharp strike froze my veins and held me captive. Every molecular cell in my body came alive with the force of a thousand suns—scorched my very being, and I could see it in his eyes that he felt the same. We couldn’t deny each other, and yet, it was his knees that dropped to the ground with his sword at my feet while pledging his life to me.

To the brave witch with red hair and green eyes who barely reached his chest and who weighed less than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. And while I watched the handsome man with dark hair and smoldering eyes crumble before me, I gave him my soul on a golden platter.

Because mates are sacred, holy in our world, and my life began the moment I glared at him.

“Humans are disrespectful by nature.” My voice is low, but he nods. His face holds a bit of disgust. He hates to be around mortals, but came for me. To celebrate a human holiday because I find the idea of Valentine’s Day quite adorable. That, and he loves his macabre gift of a steel blade he can attach to the end of his finger like a claw. It’s silly, totally unnecessary for a vampire, but it inspired him to make a reservation for this romantic dinner. “They hold no qualms in trying to bed a taken male or female, my love. No honor. No code.”

“That they are,” I say as he pulls me a little closer, his arm wrapping around my midsection. His need to feel skin on skin rivals mine, and I sigh when he places a chaste kiss on the nape of my neck.

The hostess leads us to a table set for two near the back with the dark night sky as our backdrop. The windows are open, and the moon is high—the stars light up the dark abyss above while I sit in the chair he pulls out for me. We ignore the hostess and her idiocy. The placement of my husband’s menu across the table and away from me is not lost on either of us.

Nor is her scent. The differences that let her fit in amongst those in the city.

“Is this table to your liking, Sir?” the woman asks, moving closer to his side, but before she can place a hand on my mate’s arm, he has her wrist in his hold. Had we been anywhere else, he wouldn’t hesitate to break it, but for now I’m satisfied by the subtle crunch of bones and her yelp. “Sir, you’re—”

“Never touch me,” my husband hisses out, the command of a king, eyes flashing red while she begins to shake. His fangs descend for a second, piercing the gums while she watches in fear. “Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll have your head on a spike outside the palace walls. Now, go back to the front and don’t come back.”

“My apologies.”

“Not accepted, hybrid.”

“How?” the hostess asks me while holding her wrist against her chest, voice trembling. She knew who we were. “No one here—”

“Silence.” Her immediate compliance to my demand is false, belittled by her earlier behavior. Stupid and idiotic; I study her for a few minutes, stretching out the silence while she shifts nervously, a whimper escaping her. “Name.”

“Elise.”

“Elise what?” my husband asks, even though I have an idea of who her father is. Even though half human, her essence is reminiscent of his. Earthy, but mixed with roses to enhance her femininity.

“Veltross. My name is Elise Veltross.”

“The daughter of one of my generals. One who would be embarrassed by your behavior and punish you just as swiftly.” Coincidence, or…? my mate asks through our link, tilting his head while studying her. Have you spoken to Isabella?

“Yes.” Eyes on the ground, she takes a step back. “I’m very sorry.”

We’re to meet tomorrow afternoon. “You let your human side overpower and disgrace our very nature and laws, Miss Veltross.” Eyes narrowed, I watch her through slits while clutching the napkin in my hand. I’m not buying her sudden contrite act, nor do we trust her father. He’s a good general but thinks too highly of himself and his position. “How dare you try and touch my mate and your king.”

“I was being—”

“You speak when spoken to. Understood?”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Do not step a single foot out of line, Elise. This is my only warning.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Leave.”

“Thank you, My Queen.” Elise scurries off and doesn’t look back, hiding up front while I am served dinner by an older gentleman and my husband watches me eat. It’s something he enjoys, to sit and quietly observe while I return the favor when he hunts. When he lets nature take its rightful place and he momentarily satiates the never-ending thirst.

My king has great control over his impulses. He only kills to eat, as any hunter would do.

It’s his nature to kill and drink. It’s sexy to watch him overpower his prey.

Like the man from last night, a drunk imbecile who thought it prudent to grab my wrist and yank me back, but before I could slam my elbow in his face, my husband had him by the neck with his feet dangling above the ground.

No mercy. No hesitation as he ran a metal nail—a humorous gift I had made for him—from one side of the man’s neck as if he were a chicken at a slaughterhouse. His eyes were an angry ruby red as the demon within him took control. Absolutely glorious to watch, a true aphrodisiac as he buried his fangs deep into the man’s neck and drained him of every drop of blood within his dead veins.

It was messy and angry, and my thighs clenched then as they do now with the memory, an