The Council

Today was the day we faced the Council. Today we found out why. Marcus was a Chosen One, placing him at the apex of all supernatural hierarchy—second only to our Creator, Selene herself. For me, a mere vampire princess, to be mated to him meant one thing: something enormous was coming, and our union was the essential catalyst.

We entered the chamber. Instead of the severe, cloaked figures I expected, we were met by over a dozen smiling faces. Their collective approval only strengthened my belief that this union was critical.

As the designated Chosen, Marcus spoke first. He was direct, laying out every question we had with stark honesty. He was a force—a leader and an unapologetic alpha. The way he asserted himself was intoxicating—no, wait. Strong. Damn it, the mate bond was getting dangerously powerful the longer we were near each other.

According to the Council, every Chosen One has a mate of a specific, supernatural Alpha nature: either an Alpha female wolf, a powerful changeling, or a vampire.

"Why?" Marcus asked, cutting straight to the core.

The answer stunned me, even though the Council members remained unnervingly serene. "A Dragon can only have an Alpha mate because only an Alpha can withstand the bond made when the mating takes place."

Wait, Marcus is a fucking Dragon?

He turned, his gaze snapping to mine as if he’d heard the thought. And I realized, with a rush of heat to my face, that I had said it out loud. The room was silent.

I looked back at him. His eyes weren't just the yellow of the night before; they were the terrifying, ancient red-gold of a lizard, glowing with raw power. At first, fear tried to curl in my stomach, but it was instantly overwhelmed by the sight of his mouth. He was beaming, his smile wide, his fangs only slightly longer than mine.

I felt the blush scorch my cheeks. Everyone was staring, witnessing this intimate moment. Marcus cleared his throat, the small sound pulling the Council's attention back to him like a gravitational shift.

The rest of the meeting wrapped quickly. The Council dispersed, leaving only Marcus, my father, and me. With a knowing smile and a low bow, my father excused himself.

The Taste of Life

It was just the two of us. Nervous was an insulting understatement. I had no idea what to do next.

As my thoughts raced, I felt his hand cup my cheek. The sheer heat radiating from him was enough to melt the permafrost of my vampire existence. And then I felt it: a reciprocal warmth spreading through my chest. I’d been cold my entire life, and now, with his touch, I was warm inside.

I placed my hand on his chest. His heart hammered rapidly against my palm, a living, desperate drumbeat. I could feel the powerful rhythm of his blood.

He is alive. And I am hungry. This could get very, very bad.

Marcus started to laugh, a deep, rumbling sound. He pulled his shirt up and over his head.

I stood abruptly, backing away. "I—" I didn't want to maul my mate.

But he was already close. Inches away, he reached up and used a sharp nail to draw a quick, clean line across his chest. The blood was immediately fragrant, impossibly sweet. My fangs elongated without conscious thought. I slapped a hand over my mouth and tried to turn, but he blocked me, removing my hands.

"It's okay, Raven," he said, his voice husky. "Feed. You need to."

I hesitated for a split second, then gently licked the cut. A surge of warmth, power, and the most exquisite taste I had ever known exploded across my senses. I didn't pull back. I latched onto his chest, digging in for sustenance.

Marcus moaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and supported the back of my head as I drank. It felt like only seconds, but when I pulled away, I was impossibly full. His wound was already healing, the skin stitching itself closed. He wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, and the smile on his face was one of complete satisfaction. He had enjoyed it.

The Urge to Mate

I grabbed his hand and led him, pulling him out of the Council room once he’d hastily tugged his shirt back on. We moved through the ancient house, straight toward my bedroom. If we were to face the future together, we had to consummate this bond.

We sat on the edge of the bed. I was less nervous now—fed and focused. We needed to discuss the future: what was required and how fast we were willing to go.

But as we started talking, his eyes shifted back to that intense red-gold. His fangs elongated again, and he began inhaling the air, inching closer. I could feel his heart hammering—and mine, a distant, quiet pulse, was picking up its rhythm.

I was anxious, but not from fear. I wanted to taste him again, not to feed, but to feel his lips. I wanted to feel his body. I wanted to see his Dragon.

With that final thought, he was on me. Our mouths crushed together, and our tongues tangled with a practiced intimacy that defied our short acquaintance. His shirt came off. Mine followed. He was sculpted, toned, and tasted completely divine.

I knew then, with a certainty that settled deep in my ancient vampire bones, that we wouldn't be waiting. I had an overwhelming, primal urge to have this Dragon fully sate me, and I was not in the mood to wait until we knew each other better.