Hunger

It was nearly midnight when the summons came.

A sharp knock rattled Mara’s door, jerking her upright. Kira grumbled something unintelligible from the other bed as Mara stumbled to her feet, still half tangled in blankets.

She opened the door to find one of the palace couriers waiting, a slim vampire with eyes like polished metal.

“His Majesty requires your services,” the courier announced.

Mara groaned. “It’s midnight.”

The courier blinked once. “So it is.”

Right. Vampires. Time had absolutely no meaning to them.

She considered pretending to faint. Or running away to join the circus. Anything was better than facing Valen again in this stupid uniform.

But refusing wasn’t an option.

She shoved her feet into black flats and retied the ribbon at her throat, wishing it would spontaneously combust. Kira peeked over the blanket, bleary-eyed.

“If he tries anything,” she whispered, “bite him first.”

Mara snorted. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She followed the courier through winding stone halls lit by sconce flames that didn’t warm the air. The castle was quieter at night, but not calmer. The silence here felt full—like eyes watching from every shadow.

Her stomach coiled tighter the closer they got to the King’s private wing.

She’d cleaned there once. It was lavish, immaculate… and cold. No personal touches. No warmth. A palace inside a palace.

Except for the bedroom door.

It was open.

Wide open.

A soft, low sound drifted out—half gasp, half moan. Mara froze.

The courier didn’t even look back. He just gestured inside.

“Do not disturb him,” he said. “But do what you must.”

Then he vanished into the dark.

Mara stood there, heart hammering painfully. She should turn around. Wait in the hall. Sweep a random corner of the castle and pretend she’d been cleaning.

But curiosity pulled her closer… and something else she refused to name.

She stepped toward the door.

A woman lay stretched across Valen’s bed—bare skin gleaming pale in the silver moonlight streaming through the balcony doors. Her head tipped back in pleasure, hair spilling over silken sheets. Her body arched as Valen’s mouth moved against the curve of her throat.

Mara’s breath caught.

He wasn’t just feeding.

He was worshipping.

Valen’s hand slid up the woman’s thigh, slow and possessive, as he drank from the pulse at her neck. His lips moved in a way that made Mara’s legs weaken, heat blooming low in her stomach.

He looked hungry. Devoted.

Utterly in control.

And Mara couldn’t look away.

She should move—fast. Clean something. Pretend she wasn’t watching the King devour someone like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

But then Valen’s eyes opened.

Red. Glowing.

Locked right on her.

Mara’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her whole body went still, caught like a deer in a snare.

The woman whimpered, clutching at Valen’s shoulders.

He didn’t look away from Mara.

He wanted her to see.

Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his mouth from the woman’s throat—blood catching at the corner of his lips. His tongue swept the red away with one smooth, intimate stroke.

Mara’s knees nearly gave out.

She took one shaky step back, panic flooding her chest.

Nope. No thank you. She’d seen enough nightmares for one lifetime.

Without a word, Valen placed a finger under the other woman’s chin, tilting her head so he could murmur something in her ear. The woman sighed, bliss-drunk, but Valen’s gaze never left Mara’s.

He was waiting.

Watching her reaction.

Enjoying her reaction.

Heat rushed to Mara’s cheeks, humiliating and wild. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream.

She wanted him to look at her like that again.

Her body—traitorous, stupid thing—throbbed with a need she didn’t understand, breath coming fast and shallow.

Valen’s lips curved slightly.

He knew.

And he liked it.

Mara yanked her gaze away and dropped into a clumsy bow—finally bowing, but not for him. For her own sanity. To break the staring contest before she drowned in it.

“Your—your Majesty,” she stammered. “I—I was told to—”

“Clean,” Valen finished, voice low and dark.

She nodded, unable to speak. Unable to look up.

“Then do it,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “Quietly.”

Mara forced herself to move, crossing the threshold into the room. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her ribs. She kept her eyes on the floor, desperately avoiding the bed—

Which meant she saw the way Valen’s shadow spilled across the floorboards, stretching toward her like something alive.

When his voice came again, it slid straight into her bloodstream.

“Watch where you step,” he murmured. “I’d hate to see you fall.”

Her head snapped up—and he was right there.

No space. No air.

Close enough to feel the heat of his body, the smell of blood and dark magic rolling off him. Close enough to see the woman’s bite mark still glistening.

Mara’s breath stuttered.

Valen’s lips were stained the color of sin.

He lifted one finger and traced the ribbon at her throat, slow enough to make her dizzy.

“You look flushed,” he observed quietly. “Does my hunger frighten you?”

Her pulse thrashed so hard she thought he’d hear it crack.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His eyes flashed with something feral.

And pleased.

“Good.”

He stepped back finally, giving her room to breathe—or pretend she could.

Mara dropped to her knees and began scrubbing the floor, hands shaking violently. She kept her gaze locked on the tiles, refusing to look again.

Behind her, the soft moans resumed.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

Too intimate.

Every sound crawled along her skin.

Every sound made her wonder what it would feel like to be the one beneath his mouth.

Her cheeks burned hotter. She pressed her forehead briefly to the cool stone.

“I hate him,” she whispered.

But the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

She wasn’t sure she believed it anymore.