The hunger for Amelia’s blood grew too intense. She slipped two fingers deep inside Amelia, and then sank her teeth equally deep into her neck. The taste was so intensely rich and delicious, that she wondered how she’d lived so long without it.

Amelia gasped, and dug her nails into her back. Amelia was right, this would always be different special. Nothing could compare with feeding from her Principessa.

* * *

Victorija awoke from her slumber with two of her female vampires beside her, and three human bodies strewn across the floor. She rubbed her head to soothe it. It had been a long night, where human blood just wasn’t enough. She craved the taste of something more than human, and drank heavily from her two vampire companions.

The last thing she wanted was them in her bed the next morning. She pushed them both and they began to stir. “Get out of my room by the time I get back from the bathroom.”

One of the women traced her finger provocatively across her shoulder. “But we could have so much more fun, Victorija.”

Victorija couldn’t be bothered with wasting time. She grabbed her by the throat and compelled her. “You’ll get out of my room now before I rip your pathetic turned vampire heart from your chest.”

“I’ll get out of your room before you rip my pathetic heart from my chest,” the female vampire repeated, while her companion was quickly gathering her clothes.

“Don’t worry, Principe. I’ll take her.”

Victorija got up and walked to her bathroom, but before she went through the door, she pointed to the human bodies on the floor and said, “Oh, and get someone to clean up the mess.”

She slammed the door and quickly splashed water from the sink onto her face. Victorija looked at herself in the mirror, gazing at the bloodstain still visible on her mouth and chin. Last night her hunger was ferocious. She guessed it was frustration at making no progress with Lillian and the Debrek secret. Lillian was the most powerful witch she knew. If she was struggling to find the item, the spell, whatever it was, then there must be some powerful magic at play.

There was a knock at the bathroom door.

“What? I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Sorry, Principe.” When she heard Drasas’s voice she opened the door.

“What is it, Duca?” Victorija took a towel and wiped her face.

“One of our people was at The Sanctuary last night, and there was a drunk warrior crying on her shoulder.”

“And why should this interest me, Drasas?” Victorija said.

“The warrior was Wilder, from the Debrek clan.”

Victorija threw the towel down and folded her arms across her bare chest. “And why was a warrior from the wonderful, perfect, noble house of Debrek crying into her ale?”

“The one she loved had chosen to reunite with her lover.”