Aphrodite's Hunt by Jennifer Blackstream

her eyes. “I kept telling him that I’m just as fey as he is. I’ve got more lifeforce than one mopey vampire can suck out.” She frowned. “But Grigore wouldn’t listen.”
     
    “Master?”
     
    He whirled around as Grigore’s voice sent his heart back into his throat.
     
    “Is she all right?”
     
    Grigore nodded. “She will be fine.”
     
    Sorin’s shoulders drooped, weak with relief. “I knew she was powerful. Her blood—”
     
    He stopped himself, wincing at the sensory memories brought on by the mere mention of blood. Despite his shame and guilt, the shadow inside him still gave off an aura of pleasure at the thought. The fact that he could feel the thing’s emotions so strongly sent a fresh wave of fear over his nerves.
     
    Suddenly he couldn’t stand to be naked anymore. He needed the propriety of formal clothes, the constraint their tailored confines provided. He went to his armoire and began pulling out clean linens.
     
    “I am losing control, Grigore,” he whispered.
     
    “Master?”
     
    “I’ve resisted the call of blood for so long. I have chosen to be a man, not a monster, fed off energy instead of blood. I have lived as I am supposed to and yet I am being punished.” He turned away from his closet to stare into Grigore’s eyes, a growing horror rising inside him. “Her blood and body call to me and I fear I am not strong enough to fight it.”
     
    “Perhaps you should revoke your deal with the lady. If you cannot—”
     
    “No!” The word exploded from his lips and Sorin’s eyes widened in surprise at his own vehemence. Grigore raised an eyebrow, sending a rush of embarrassment flooding through Sorin. He forged ahead, not wanting to dwell on where the passion in his voice had come from.
     
    “Self-control is not a luxury, it is a responsibility. I have made a bargain with Gia—a bargain I have already . . . benefited from. It would be dishonorable to fail her now.” His brain furiously worked to provide a logical excuse for his body’s demands. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet. “Honor is what separates men from beasts. I will fulfill my end of the arrangement.”
     
    “As you will,” Grigore nodded. “I will arrange dinner.”
     
    “Yes, thank you. She must eat.”
     
    As Grigore left the room, Sorin turned back to his armoire. He had to get dressed. He reached in and began pulling out more clothes. The crisp white shift with the subtle ruffling on the chest soothed him with its formality. The tight fit of his heavy waistcoat reinforced his need for control. As he fastened his trousers around the material of his upper garments he began to feel less like an animal and more like a gentleman.
     
    By the time he’d slipped on his pale grey frock coat and fastened his pocket watch to his vest, he felt like his old self again. The energy that had exploded like fireworks inside him earlier quieted. No longer was Gia’s blood like a raging whitewater river in his veins. Bit by bit his self control regained ground until he was focused and calm.
     
    He looked at himself in the mirror as he picked up a brush from his dresser. He pulled it through the tangled locks hanging to his shoulders, wringing out excess water as he went. Keeping his gaze on his reflection, he watched his transformation from wild heathen to refined gentleman. When he finally pulled his hair back in a tie, he found himself staring into the eyes of a respectable man once again.
     
    “I am a man. Not an animal.”
     
    “That was a really weird thing to say.”
     
    He’d forgotten the pixie. Sorin glared at Morgi where she sat still perched on his vanity, staring at him with open curiosity.
     
    “If you wish to remain in my home, you must learn a degree of respect. Stay out of my quarters.”
     
    Morgi rolled her eyes. With a little leap off the mirror, she flew out of the room.
     
    The fact that she hadn’t actually agreed to stay out of his room concerned Sorin, but he