BLOOD LEGACIES
Chapter 390: Observing

Chapter 390: Observing

I have questioned myself a million times since I walked back to the mansion with her. Even now as I stared at her sleeping form on my bed.

How did this happen?

Why didn’t I take her back to the guest room and have her locked and caged? Why did I bring her to the comfort of my suite? I let no one in. Not even Isabella has ever come into my room, the Alpha’s suites are off-limits and I do my meetings in my office. I cherish my space more than anything and the irritating urge to find someone in my space is unnerving to the point I feel like ripping things apart.

Then why is she here? On my bed looking sinfully beautiful without even trying, her dark strawberry blond hair spread out on my pillows, her body still like the dead but the only thing giving way was the slow rise of her chest, her hands locked to her side and her head slightly tilted with no peace in her features, she wears a frown and I begin to wonder what she’s dreaming about.

I let my mind linger on what happened, the panic attacks. I knew panic attacks happen when something unexpected occurs that deals with fear or when someone deals with trauma.

Does she have trauma?

And why was it triggered when Sherman came? Her eyes never left that spot, not until I gripped her jaw to look at me instead. She doesn’t know the guy... but yet again that familiarity was in her eyes.

She knew him.

How?

Someone who wasn’t in the country to begin with until she showed up on our radar. And surely if she had been here before there was no way I would miss her presence not with that intoxicating scent of hers that allures even the most dominant attention. Her scent and aura felt like a beacon. I might not have realized it until now but it felt like the moment I brought her back to Juneau there seemed to be a taut air lately or maybe I was just paying too much attention.

Obviously, everyone in the mansion is on high alert because of the vampire in the house.

A million questions came again.

Who is she?

Who is she to Luther?

What is she?

Why does she pull me in like a damn moth to a flame?

And what the fuck is her trauma?

What got her so vulnerable that it made my blood boil?

I shifted the glass of whiskey I held with my hand slug on the armchair to my lips and took a drink. I don’t blink, I just keep my eyes on her like the past hour.

Why can’t I take my eyes off her?

Was I afraid she would escape me again?

Or am I really going crazy this time?

I despise Vampires, I loathe them like second nature and their smell and presence, their dead skin, and everything about them makes me bloodlust to erase them and yet here she is with an alluring scent that makes its way into my nose and becomes the regular air I breathe.

I hate it.

Her dead skin which should irk me off, makes me wonder which was beautiful, the moon or her skin?

I fucking hate it.

Or the color of her hair that calls me to run my hands through them and grip them at the same time?

It ticks me off and I hate it!

Or her forest green eyes that call to me and want to drown me in their colors? Or her voice that sounds tiny and sweet and slightly hard when she acts tough and bites back at my words? Or the smirk that would play on her lips in a devious way that got my cock harder than ever?

I fucking hate it all!

I don’t want a fucking attraction and I sure as hell not falling into it, she’s my pawn that I will use to bring down Luther and bring the vampire society to ruins but here I’m watching her like an obsession and my cock pressing against my jeans painfully that I might have blue balls.

Just one look and the bastard between my legs betrays me, just one look and she doesn’t even try, she doesn’t need to, almost like the traitor wins her presence and clearly disobeys me.

Too bad motherfucker, I won’t give you what you want, you can stay as hard as you fucking want but there’s no damn way I will let myself drown.

This is business

This is plan

Either she dies or she gets me what I want.

I take the last shot of my drink and place it on the coffee table before me and she stirs at the harsh sound, moaning in her sleep.

Shit!

I have to get out of here before I do something I will fucking regret. But the universe must be against me because she opened her eyes.

She’s stirring awake as her eyes get used to the light and she rubbed them with the back of her hands.

Why does she look fucking cute? Even as she opened her little mouth and yawned?

Fuck!

Her hands on her side dipped in as she raised herself blinking around the room puzzled, and then her eyes trailed on me and she paused, utterly still and I just held her gaze.

No words were said and the air got edgy, the heat from between my legs or the cold stare? I don’t know which but either way one of us has to talk.

I opened my mouth.

"You brought me back"

I shut my mouth the moment she spoke and then she huffed looking around again, that familiarity was back in her eyes as she surveyed my room.

"So much for escaping the almighty Alpha Devereaux"

"Earlier" I began. "What made you panic?"

A look of confusion flushed her features. "Panic?"

Realization struck me instantly.

She doesn’t remember her episode.