Reigniting Old Flames

ALEXANDER

She was no longer asleep. A subtle shift in her breathing, a slight tensing of her muscles, and a wave of confusion signaled her awakening. She was either feigning sleep or unaware that I was also awake.

I had been alert all day, listening. The sun was still up, and the distant chatter of human hikers reached my ears. They were miles away and unlikely to stumble upon our chalet, but I needed to be ready just in case.

It felt like an eternity before their voices faded out of my hearing range. Then, she woke up abruptly, jolted from her dream. I remained still, just listening to her soft gasps and the gentle rustling of her fingers against her thigh as she overthought everything.

I had given her privacy to change into her nightwear while I patrolled the perimeter. When I returned, she was already deep in sleep—curled up on the bed, her dark hair spread out on the worn pillows, her earrings placed neatly on the bedside table.

It took all my self-control not to wake her and continue our intense conversation. Things were uncertain. I wanted clarity. I wanted to know her feelings toward me—if she still desired to be mine.

I knew I had to be patient. It was too soon. Just because I was ready to have her back didn’t mean she felt the same.

I gazed at the top of her head. It was nestled against my chest, her cheek pressed into my shirt. Her leg was draped over my waist, soft and smooth under my hand. I wondered if she knew she was sprawled over me in her sleep—if she knew I was holding her just as tightly. I didn’t want to let go.

For years, I had forced myself not to think of her. I marveled at how I had managed to survive.

I couldn’t help but wonder about her life in the fifty years since the revolution. She had traveled. She spoke more languages. Her attire was more modern, less conservative.

But what had she experienced? Who had she met? Why had she spent so much time with that Canadian? What did he offer her that I couldn’t? She had spent more time with him than with me. The thought was unbearable.

She was different from the last time I saw her. She was fully capable of navigating the world without me. She didn’t need me. I was the one who needed her.

She shifted slightly against me, then froze—likely because my muscles tightened, preventing her from moving away.

“Alex?” she whispered.

I responded with a hum, allowing myself to run my fingers through her silky hair.

She lifted her head, looking up at me with her wide, doe-like eyes. I felt exposed under her gaze. There was no hiding anything from her. She knew me too well. She knew me best.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked, my voice slightly hoarse.

She blinked at me, her full lips parting briefly before pressing into a tight line.

“Yeah,” she replied, lifting herself again.

This time, I couldn’t stop her. Her leg slid off my waist, her body twisting slightly away from mine, her head propped up on her elbow.

I quickly adjusted, turning to my side and pulling her waist toward me. She let out a small gasp as her hips pressed against my erection. I tried not to let it affect me, but she was distracting.

Her breasts were pressed against my chest, her parted lips just inches from mine. My hand roamed her small back, yearning to slip under the cotton and touch her soft skin.

I watched her as her eyes flickered from our entwined bodies to my face.

My mind was a whirlwind. I was almost shaking with the effort to resist kissing her. My muscles tightened, my hand gripping her back.

She could feel it. I saw her pupils dilate, her emotions fluctuating, her hips inching closer to mine.

“Where—” I cleared my throat. “Where have you been these past decades? Where have you traveled? What have you read? What have you seen?” I blurted out the questions, trying to distract myself.

She seemed taken aback, blinking at me.

“A lot of Siberia,” she answered slowly, a small smile on her lips. “Iceland. Greenland too. And Canada. A lot of Canada.”

“Is that where you met him?” I asked, annoyed at myself for forgetting his damn name.

“Tom?” She quirked an eyebrow, then shook her head dismissively. “No, our paths crossed in Berlin, but we spent a good chunk of time in Canada. He had a group there, all turned by the same vampire. He’s a social butterfly, loves to travel with a crowd. I’ve met vampires from all corners of the globe through him.” She paused, her gaze distant. “I used to steer clear of vampires—for about forty years after I left the mansion. He was one of the first I felt safe around.”

A twinge of jealousy pricked at me. She trusted him. She didn’t trust me.

“One of the first?” I prodded, hating myself for it.

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “There was Anthony too, of course. I’d often return to Europe to see him. He helped me a lot—to move on from you.”

Jealousy surged through me like a red-hot wave. I despised the small smile on her face, the way her eyes sparkled.

I was starting to regret asking these questions. I was more content imagining her wandering the world solo.

“I’m glad,” I said, my tone clipped. I had no interest in ever learning who this Anthony was.

Her soft chuckle only served to sour my mood further. “You don’t have the right to be jealous, Alex,” she said, her expression turning serious. “I had to watch you parade around with countless girlfriends over the years.”

I stiffened. “Of course,” I muttered. “But none of them meant anything to me.”

“None of them?” she looked taken aback.

I furrowed my brow and nodded. “None of them. They were just temporary diversions.”

“You were nearly engaged to one of the McNoxnoctis twins,” she pointed out.

“I know. That was a mistake. I don’t think either of us could actually stand the other,” I grumbled. “You would have liked her. She didn’t put up with any of my crap.” I shot her a crooked grin that made her smile back at me.

We fell into silence for a few moments as I wrestled with my jealousy. I had no right to feel this way, but the thought of another man touching her made me want to tear heads off.

She was gazing at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the grain of the wood.

“Alex,” she murmured, glancing back at me. “You remember, the first time we played chess, you asked about my biggest secret. I asked yours. Has it changed?”

I scoffed. Memories of our first night together came flooding back. I had made so many foolish mistakes that night.

“Yes,” I replied. “And no.” I paused, watching her gaze sweep over my face. “I hid for so long. I didn’t want anyone to know that I didn’t want the crown. I never wanted it. Not even now. Caroline wants it. Me? I couldn’t care less.”

“Really?” Her voice was a squeak, her surprise washing over me.

I nodded, sincere. “Really. My biggest secret today is still that I don’t want to be king. My happiest years, in five hundred years, were the three I spent with you. I’m a simple guy.”

“You’re really not,” she countered, and I let out a laugh.

“Grand Daddy issues,” I agreed.

She studied me, her expression softening. “And now that he’s gone, who are you living for?”

Her words struck a chord. A vivid memory of the sun’s heat on that balcony before the fire—I had been ready to let it consume me.

I leaned in closer, my fingers brushing her cheek. She leaned into my touch, instinctively.

“For my family,” I murmured. “For you.”

“And who is living for you?” she whispered.

Her head tilted just enough to press her lips against my palm. It sent a shiver down my spine. “You need to do something for yourself, Alex.”

“Being selfish has never been my problem,” I muttered, a slight scowl on my face.

“True,” she agreed. “But there’s a difference between being selfish and putting yourself first.” She paused, holding my gaze. “What I’m trying to say, Alex, is that you were raised for a certain life, a certain position, under very specific circumstances. It’s shaped who you are today. The pressure you’ve been under all your life, the fact that the one time you tried to escape, they hunted you down and blackmailed you into coming back through me.”

She gave me a small smile, though I could feel her pain echoing my own.

“I wonder if you even know who you are,” she added. “You need to love yourself for others to love you.”

Her words stopped my thoughts in their tracks, and I was filled with self-loathing. I’d been carrying this burden of self-hatred for over a hundred years—maybe even longer. Perhaps it started before I even met her.

I was seething, trying not to dwell on her words. Was she saying she couldn’t love me? The thought made my breath hitch in my throat—it was unbearable.

“I know what I want,” I told her, trying to reassure myself.

Her smile was radiant, reaching her eyes and making me feel like I was sinking in their warm brown depths. My heart pounded once—the sound echoing in the room.

“So do I,” she murmured, and it felt like time stood still. I could sense the heat from outside pressing against the house, the distant sounds of people hiking, the faint rustling of a fox burrowing into a hole. But my world was narrowing—zeroing in on her. Suddenly, all I could hear was her breathing, all I could feel was her body against mine, and all I could see was her beautiful face—her bright brown eyes meeting mine.

I could hear her breath quivering, her heart thumping in her chest.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice rough and low. I felt her shiver against me. Her eyes flashed a brilliant crimson.

“I am sure I want you,” she replied.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I blurted out.

Her smile was warm and comforting—making my heart feel like it was about to burst.

“I know, Alex. I trust you.”

I could only gaze at her in disbelief. She was trusting me—giving me another chance.

I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity. She only had this one chance to give, this small amount of trust, and I didn’t even deserve it.

I was almost scared to touch her. Scared I’d mess it up. Again. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to have to deal with me and all my baggage.

Yet, she was the one moving closer to me, running her fingers through my hair. A choked groan escaped me as I lost control and pulled her into my arms.

This was so delicate. This trust was hanging by a thread. I needed to reinforce it. I needed to prove to her that I was the one she could rely on, the one she could love again.

I tried, I really did, to be gentle and take things slow. But the moment I caught the scent of her arousal, I was harder than I’d ever been.

My muscles tightened, my throat parched with an intense desire, a craving to taste her. To possess her completely.

Our lips crashed together. There was no slow, tender kiss. It was wild. We were consuming each other, unable to control our desire, our hearts pounding in sync.

Her taste overwhelmed me as I bit her lower lip, and her sweet blood flowed freely. She moaned as I drank it eagerly.

Her desire seemed to fill me, spurring me on. I could feel her struggling for control, battling against my tongue, clutching at me. Her fingers digging into my skin.

In one swift move, I had her beneath me, and she immediately clung to me, her breath coming out in small, enticing gasps.

I wanted all of her. I found myself grabbing her thighs and pulling her up. She squirmed against me, trying to pull my pants down simultaneously.

“Stop fighting me,” I growled in her ear. “I’ve been deprived of this for decades. I’ve yearned for you. Longed to feel you. Dreamed of you.”

“Alex,” she squeaked.

“I know you like to have me on my knees,” I grunted. “But tonight, I am going to taste every inch of your skin until you cum on my face, and then I’m going to fuck you until the sun goes down,” I promised.

A shiver ran through her body, goosebumps appearing on her skin, and I thought I heard her whimper.