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other time her mate had bitten her, she felt the two holes left behind by his fangs.
"Gavriel?" she looked around the room. The old bedding was in a pile by the door, even from
where she sat she could see the bloodstains. Concerned for her mate, she scooted forward and let her
feet drop to the floor.
"Stay there," his voice commanded. She looked around and saw him sitting on the floor under
the window. He was naked and his skin was covered in a rusty, flakey layer. Without asking she knew
it was her blood. His legs were pulled up so that his elbows rested on his kneecaps. His arms were
crossed and his face hidden from sight buried in his forearms.
"I'm coming to you." She stepped forward and he didn't raise his head. Slowly she made her
way over to him. With little grace she flopped down beside him. She took a moment to catch her
breath.
"I'm calling your fathers. I'm sending you home," he whispered. The absolute despair and loss
she heard in his voice broke her heart.
"No. You're not. You are my mate and I won't leave you," she argued.
When he finally looked up there was no hope, no life in his eyes. "When I came to my senses
you were barely breathing, I had to give you my blood to get your heart to beat normally. I thought I
had killed you." His voice was harsh. The self-recrimination and disgust was in every word.
"But you didn't."
"Look at me! Look!" he yelled, unfolding his body. Nearly every inch of his body was covered
in blood. "I did this! I bound you, took you like an animal and nearly drained you dry. You..." his
voice broke. "You, my sweet Beth. I should be destroyed."
"First of all, I loved being bound and taken like an animal, though that is a very vulgar way of
describing one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I enjoyed every second of it. Would I want to
do this every night? No, but I will be disappointed if it never happened again," she freely admitted.
He looked up, shocked. "But I hurt you."
"Yes, but in a good way. When you're taking me like that the pain just takes the pleasure to a
whole new level, it's intoxicating to the point of addiction. You don't have to be in transition for this
to happen again do you?" she asked.
He blinked. "You're serious. You would do this again?"
"Except for the blood loss, yes. But I think we can safely attribute that to your transition. Was
it a bit scary? Yes. But that made it all the more delicious. Are you listening to me my mate?" She
scooted so that their bodies touched. Both of them shuddered.
"Even now I want to drink from you again." He went to reach out to touch her face but pulled
his hand back. She grabbed his hand and placed it against her cheek.
"You're not listening. Did you set out to hurt me?"
"No! Of course not."
"Are you possibly days away from the hardest apex of your life from going through two
transitions?"
"Three," he whispered.
"Three? So you are at your five thousandth year. I speculated with Meryn. So you have your
natural transition, your fifth millennial and a power increase due to the ferals." She let his hand drop
but kept their fingers intertwined. Their combined hands rested on his thigh.
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with exhaustion. "Not my fifth millennial, my
Myriad."
Her heart stuttered. "Myriad? Doesn't that mean ..."
He nodded. "Yes. Ten thousand, at least that's as far back as I remember."
Elizabeth sat back covering her mouth with both hands as pieces of the puzzle began to fall
into place. The reason why he didn't want power, why he kept his age a secret, why he alone
represented the oldest vampiric ruling house and why the version Meryn knew of their legend was
different, she had heard it from the man herself.
"Oh sweet Gods above. You're the Dark Prince." She clutched at her chest as the enormity of
this reality settled in her mind.
He sighed, closed his eyes and sat back. "I never wanted you to know."
She could only stare. This was the Dark Prince she had fantasized about as a girl, the
invincible warrior that every other man was always compared to after her uncle and fathers. And he
was her mate. Gone was the golden armor and white plumed helmet. There was no holy sword or
fiery steed at his side, just a man. Her man, a man that at the moment believed he had lost everything,
including her.
She flicked the side of his leg with her thumb and forefinger.
"Ow!" He looked at her surprised and frowning. "What was that for?"
"I thought you'd be bigger." She made the mistake of glancing down at his groin and giggled.
His mouth dropped.
She leaned against him laughing. He pulled away and righted her before looking into her face.
There was disbelief, but also the tiniest ray of light in his eyes. "You thought what would be bigger,
zain'ka moya?" He asked, his lips twitching.
She cleared her throat and smiled at him. She climbed over his knee until she sat between his
legs and snuggled close to his chest. Automatically his arms circled her.
"Dark Prince, surly warrior, charming gentleman, it doesn't matter. They are just different
sides to my mate." She yawned and winced as her neck flexed.
He felt her flinch. "I would take this pain from you if I could," he whispered.
"It's not so bad. Think about it this way, this is the most out of control you'll be for at least
another five thousand years; I'm going to enjoy it."
He gathered her against him with one arm and used the other to stand. He walked over to their
bed and gently set her down. She didn't feel complete until he slid in next to her.
"You don't see me any differently?" he asked.
"No. I was raised among our ruling houses, as a little girl you were the prince of my dreams.
Maybe Fate was preparing me for you even then."
He kissed the top of her head and whispered his prayers of thanks to the one who watched
over them.
"Gavriel?"
"Yes my love?"
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