Claire POV.
Unedited.

I step out of the magnificent Jacuzzi tub, feeling relaxed, refreshed, and renewed. My entire body is humming in blissful harmony. My eyes land on some neatly folded clothes placed on top of the toilet seat. I smile to myself, knowing who left those there for me.

I smile harder once I realize that they are actually my belongings. They're nothing too much or too fancy—just a light-gray turtleneck, full bodysuit, and a matching black lace bra and pantie set. I'm just happy that they are mine. Well, technically Nicklaus purchased them for me when I first arrived in his kingdom, so the clothing does actually belong to him.

After I'm dressed, my already bright smile shines sunlight when my eyes spot the book that Xander encouraged me to read. It's left on the bathroom sink. Nicklaus's first promise has been fulfilled. This man doesn't understand how much little things mean to me. Oh gosh, I can't get him out of my head.

I've been thinking about Nicklaus ever since he left. Every time I think or see anything. My thought patterns lead right back to him. Hopefully, some reading and fresh air would help me get him out of my head. Yes, that's it! That's what I need.

I grab the book off the counter and make my way into the room. Mr. Meany is on the sofa that's on the other side of the room. He is half asleep when I step out of the bathroom. He looks exhausted, which is expected. His eyes were practically glued open all night as he watched the doctor evaluate me.

Whenever the doctor poked a needle into my flesh, and I uttered a single ouch, Mr. Meany was in front of him in a flash with angry crimson‑colored eyes. Whenever the doctor pulled out some strange tools and performed some type of exam on parts of my body, Mr. Meany would rudely question his every move.

I feel guilty that he was left to babysit me and the doctor. Vampires don't have to sleep, but they do enjoy having that winding downtime from what I noticed.

Mr. Meany has been resting on the sofa for over sixteen hours now. Surely, he wants to be in the comfort of a bed, not that the sofa looks uncomfortable. However, beds are made to sleep in. Sofas are made to sit on.

I glance at the clock on the wall above the sofa. It's 7:05 AM. Mr. Meany has indeed been confined to the Sofa for over sixteen hours. I woke up around 2 PM after the incident yesterday, and he has been here ever since Nicklaus stormed out. That's a long time to play guard.

My eyes drift over to his half-asleep body. His usual pale-blond, slicked-back hair is a shaggy mess. His eyes are half-closed, and his pant leg on the left side is rolled up halfway. He reminds me of how I used to look during one of those boring lectures back at school. Nicklaus reminds me of that as well when he is doing any one of his royal duties. He always seems to be bored. Unless Xander is around, then Nicklaus acts like a class clown—playful and entertaining.

I stand in my spot for about five minutes, just thinking about all of the faces Nicklaus makes.

"Why are you standing there looking at me," Mr. Meany mumbles, getting up.

Ugh, that's a good question. Why was I looking at him? Oh, I know why. I got distracted, thinking about Mr. Meany looking exhausted, and the nn I begin to think about Nickluas

I do not respond. I place the book down on the dresser and make my way inside the closet. As expected, all my belongings are neatly hung and folded on the left side of the closet.

A king will do everything on his left side until he finds the one who is meant to sit on his left side. Butterflies erupt inside my tummy as a small smile tug on my lips. Just thinking about that little piece of information makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside. Nicklaus's expensive cologne and burning cedarwood scent are a lot more potent inside this tight confinement of space.

I run my fingers along with his many clothing items. All of his belongings are crisp, clean, and organized. My eyes land on a tan-gray and white sweater of his, which I soon put on just to be covered completely in his scent.

The sweater is big on me and hangs down past my knees. I place my head in the sleeve and take a deep breath. His scent is extremely strong on this particular piece of clothing. My kitty is purring just by smelling it.

After sniffing Nicklaus's sweater to death, I grab a pair of gray sheepskin boots and start working on my hair. The ends of it are still a little damp, so I place a loose fishtail braid in my golden waves. I look at myself in the full-body mirror that hangs on the closet door. I can't help but realize how much I am glowing. I look like gold. I am golden.

Mr. Meany is standing by the window when I exit. He has a glass of blood in his hands. The sweet aroma of burnt oranges and spices invades my nostrils as I make my way to the sofa. My stomach grumbles in response, gaining Mr. Meany's attention.

He raises the glass in my direction. "Hungry?" he asks, speaking to me like he didn't ignore me the entire time the doctor was sticking me to death yesterday.

He is so f*cking bipolar. Welp, there's no need to hold grudges. He can't help himself. His name is Mr. Meany for a reason.

I wince in disgust. "I'll pass," I tell him.

He nods. "Only the king's blood would taste appealing to you anyway."

Yes, only the king can do a lot of things to me. Right now I need his lips to satisfy my hunger because that's exactly what I'm craving. I am hungry for him. Oh gosh, I miss him. All of my thoughts keep traveling back to him. Nicklaus, Nicklaus, Nicklaus . . .

"But you are hungry," Mr. Meany says, looking amused.

I am hungry.

"Yes. Hungry for Nicklaus."

Mr. Meany's eyes widen before I realize I just said that out loud. My hands pop over my mouth.

How fucking embarrassing! My face beats shades of crimson. I turn around and look anywhere but at him. Humiliation at its finest I tell you.

"On that note, I'll go fetch the servant who is assigned to cook for you," Mr. Meany tells me, barely holding back his laughter.

Yeah, you do that.

I hear him take a sip of his blood and then walk towards the door.

Urgh! Please, please, please . . . Please make him forget that awkward moment, I pray inside my head.

"King Nicklaus's pancakes," he teases, right before he is about to exit.

Failed prayers. Hahaha. How funny!

I grab a pillow from the sofa and throw it at him.

Mr. Meany explodes in a fit of laughter. "No, seriously, would you like pancakes?" he questions awkwardly, obviously trying to be funny.

Pancakes are all I ever want, and he knows this.

"With chocolate chips," I answer, now burying my red face in the couch.

"That's new," he says, then walks out of the door. His laughter fills the hallways.

Embarrassing!

I sigh. I sit down and then turn to look out of the window. The sight of the beautiful bed of snow seems to be the only thing that manages to take my mind off him. It's beautiful, fresh, and inviting. I open the window and stick out my head just to get a breeze. I wonder if I am allowed to explore the estate grounds, or if I'm going to have to sneak out.

It would be best just to ask Nicklaus to take me out instead of stirring up more trouble. He seems to be under a lot of stress already. There's no point in adding extra to his plate. Asking for permission to go outside won't hurt, will it?

I mean it wouldn't kill me, right? All I have to do is ask nicely. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't die from embarrassment if I was to ask for permission to do anything. Nicklaus would probably say no and most certainly believe that I am sick, not to mention the snow being way too inviting to risk being told no.

I always wondered what it would feel like to have a snow day. Maybe Mecca and I can go out in the snow when Nicklaus takes me to go see her today. I wonder where he is. He is taking a long time. Gosh, the thought of him slowly creeps its way back into my head. Missing him when he is not around is just one of those things I am going to have to get used to. My alone time will most likely always consist of thinking about him.

Soon enough the smell of expensive cologne and burning cedarwood fills the air, giving me butterflies inside again. Darn it, that smell is another reason why I can't stop thinking about him.

Seconds, later Nicklaus walks inside, brightening the room with that amused smile of his. He is carrying a tray filled with a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes, eggs and bacon, and a cup filled with dark-red juice. He has the eating utensils in his hand. The smell of the food and the sight of him makes my mouth water.

"I heard someone is hungry," he teases as if he knows what I'm thinking.

Hungry for you and pancakes. When am I not?

In a flash, he is right in front of me. He places the tray down on the coffee table. He moves so fast. I'm surprised he doesn't drop it.

Before I have a chance to speak, he's already sitting right beside me, and his lips devour my own hard and fast. His kiss completely satisfies my hunger and settles my craving to taste him.

His hands make their way to my swollen nipples, and he squeezes them gently. His hot-and-cold touch and the feel of his warm and juicy lips are exactly what I needed. I needed him.

His minty and savory tongue runs over my now swollen lips, anxiously demanding more access. I grant him permission, and he wastes no time accepting my offer. He hungrily devours my tongue with his pleasure‑filled one, taking every inch of my breath away and sending a volcano of shivers to cover me whole. I am speechless.

A soft whine escapes my throat as he slowly pulls away. We both gasp for air. The kiss only lasted for a little over a minute—short and sweet—but the feeling of our lips blending together will always be imprinted into my memory. Every one of our kisses will forever be in my heart, mind, body, and soul.

"Someone missed me," Nicklaus teases, still fighting to catch his breath. His chest matches my own, moving up and down.

"Someone missed me," I tease him back in between my own struggle for air.

Seconds go by the both of us catching air.

Once our bodies have their fills, he speaks, "Every second, minute, or hour of the day, when I'm away from you,"—he takes my hand—"I will always miss you."

He plants a kiss onto my skin with those mouthwatering lips of his. "Being apart from you for even a second is torture," he tells me, making my heart skip a beat as he pecks my hand again with his lips, those goddamn most- delicious lips.

"It does help to know that you are missing me too, starving for my touch and just as hungry for me as I am hungry for you," he says, flashing his beautiful, sadistic smile.

Oh God, save me from the electric current that is flowing through my blood. Save me from him. I can't breathe.

We stare at each other for a long while in a self-imposed trance.

Finally, I somehow break eye contact, and he gently places my hand down onto my lap. I look down at my hand, but I know his eyes remain locked on me.

"You look good in my sweater," Nicklaus begins.

I know he has a smug look on his face even though my eyes are not on him. I lift my head up, only to come face-to-face with smugness on his handsome face. This man has no idea what he does to me.

Nicklaus is the one to break eye contact this time and then he leans over to grab the plate filled with delicious breakfast food.

I watch him carefully cut the pancakes into triangles, then he stabs a piece of pancake with the fork. "Here, firecracker, you need to eat," he says, holding the fork up towards my lips.

I take a bite and moan. The rich dark-chocolate chip and sweet maple syrup are pure happiness to my taste buds.

His body stiffens, his eyes darken. For a long-drawn-out moment, he stares into my soul before he continues to feed me nice and slow. Occasionally, he stops to wipe my mouth with a napkin or allow me to chew my food. It is very entertaining and extremely adorable. A creature whose natural instinct is to feed on a human is actually feeding a human. How cute? It doesn't help that I'm blushing the entire time.

"You're easy to please, firecracker." He places the last scoop of eggs into my mouth.

I take my time enjoying the tasty, cheesy scrambled eggs.

Once finished, I sigh in pure happiness and fulfillment.

"And you know the way to a girl's heart," I tell him, grabbing the glass of dark-red juice. The aroma of cedarwood, fresh berries, and a hint of cinnamon invades my senses.

Nicklaus watches me intensely as I take a sip of the tasty drink. It's kind of sweet and slightly tart, but they balance well together. I like it a lot. No, that's an understatement. I love it so much.

I moan and my eyes roll in the back of my head from the unexpected blissful taste. Nicklaus's intense cerulean eyes darken like the deepest sea. I love when they change to that shade. They spark something inside my soul and make moisture trail down my legs.

Excitement travels through my entire body. Suddenly, I go into some sort of frenzy as I continue to moan, gulping down the tasty drink. Once finished, the frenzy stops.

Nicklaus hesitantly takes the empty glass out of my hand. He sits it onto the tray without breaking eye contact.

I lick my lips. The sour-sweet taste lingers. Ummm, so good. I inhale heavily, attempting to get the thought of the taste out of my mouth, head, and body. Wow, it's really that good. My entire body is sizzling with joy.

Nicklaus is still watching me, studying me in silence. "You like?" he questions, his eyes remain dark and his voice so low and husky.

Like, like, like! Oh, my taste buds are far past the point of liking.

"Yes, thank you," I breathe. "The food was delicious, and the juice was the best thing I've ever tasted. What was that?"

Seriously, I think I'll prefer the juice over pancakes any day, and I love pancakes.

He smiles.

Aww, here goes that freaking, pantie-wetting smile again.

"Oh really?" he asks. His smile turns into an extremely handsome, cocky smirk. "That was all me, firecracker." He turns his eyes towards the window.

I'm confused. I mean it seems as if he is referring to his blood, which confuses me because I have tasted it. I'll admit it is good, really tasty. I may even say it's appetizing. But that drink was heaven in a cup.

"I don't understand," I voice my confusion out loud.

He turns his eyes back onto me. He doesn't speak right away—which is strange—and his cocky and teasing demeanor completely disappears. He exhales heavily. His eyes wander back to the window.

"I didn't think about how you were going to react until I just watched you drink my blood," he speaks after some moments of silence.

Oh, so it is his blood. What did he spike it with? Whatever it was, it damn sure gave it an extra kick.

All of a sudden, he looks very thoughtful and worried. "We need to talk, Claire," he says quietly.

I frown.

How did we go from him feeding and watching me like he wants to rip my clothes off to this? What did I miss? Nicklaus has given me his blood countless times now, so I don't get it.

"My blood tastes differently because you have changed."

Changed?

"The doctor figured out what happened during the turn."

Turn? Okay . . .

"Okay, so what did he say?"

Nicklaus's eyes are now burning holes into my own. Their usual cerulean color is now a glowing neon blue. I gasp at the sudden change. I haven't seen them turn to that shade before. They are beautiful, electrifying, and intense.

He hesitates for a second. I can tell he is calculating his next choice of words.

After what seems like an eternity of complete silence, he finally speaks, "He confirmed that you are no longer human."

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