Marked by the Vampire Prince: I’m His Mate, Not His Baby Maker!

Lyra's POV

His lips crashed into mine so suddenly, it steals the breath from my lungs.

I froze.

My mind screamed at me to move, to shove him away, to remember what he was. What he'd done. 

He is Julian Czarnel—cold, manipulative, dangerous.

The very thing I'd been taught to fear, the reason we, humans, were trapped underground like canaries in the cage.

And yet…

I wouldn't dare pulling back.

My fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, halfway between pushing and holding. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as his mouth moved over mine—too gently, too tenderly for someone who wasn't supposed to have a soul. That was the worst part. Not the kiss itself, but the way he kissed me.

Like I mattered.

Like I was his.

I hated him, I reminded myself. Over and over. I hated him for what he was. For what he was taken from me. I shouldn't feel this. I MUSTN'T feel this.

But I did.

Even as my body screamed no, some traitorous part of me whispered yes. It whispered stay. It whispered what if.

His hand traced up my side, slow, reverent. Not possessive. Not forceful. Just… waiting. 

Testing me.

 Like he needed me to choose him on my own.

And I didn't know what scared me more—that he was giving me the choice… or that I was considering it.

He pulled back slightly, breath mingling with mine. "Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Say the word, Lyra Ellison."

He was fucking testing me now. He knew it too well. 

Say it, I ordered myself. Push him away. Scream. Do something.

But I couldn't. The words stuck in my throat like thorns.

I stared into his eyes—those beautiful gray eyes turned crimson—and at that moment, I didn't see the monster I wanted to see. I saw confidence. Yet at the same time, ache. Or longing.

He was different from the description in our history books—he should be scary, fearful.

But why was he too damn handsome?

"You said I was your mate," I said, barely more than a whisper.

His fingers stilled on my waist. "You are," A tone airing its confidence. 

"Then why?" My voice cracked, raw with confusion. "Why do you need a mate? A human like me? You can get any woman out there."

"It's not that simple," he said, caressing the curves of my waist. "The prophecy speaks nothing but the truth: and when I saw you the first time, I'm–let's say, I'm captivated." He grinned widely, like a handsome madman that he is. "It's like your scent made me lose my mind. I can get why wolves are desperate to have their partners in life. It was at that moment that I knew that you are my fated mate."

"The prophecy?" There was a lot to take in with his lengthy speech but this struck me the most. "What prophecy?"

He had an unreadable expression before he finally said. "A prophecy to rebuild my race—to ensure the lineage of the High Vampires won't cease to exist."

"And by doing so, kitten," he smirked as his hand moved from my waist till he placed his hand on my stomach. "I must implant a seed inside of you. To give me an heir."

My cheeks flushed crimson. "What? If you want to rebuild your race, you can fuck every woman out there."

"It's not that. A High Vampire can't breed a new High Vampire offspring unless it's the same race. But as I'm the only sole survivor, I have to rely on the prophecy given by the Oracle." His eyes never left mine. "That's why once I found you, we will have our marriage rites as soon as possible."

The revelation stung a lot. His words brought the hard truth right before me. "So you want to marry me based on a prophecy?" 

"What else is the reason?" There was a light chuckle.

Of course, what was I expecting from Julian Czarnel himself? I kept reminding myself not to be attracted to him. He was an enemy, a monster—a handsome monster I couldn't stop staring at. 

"Then you're just using me." Shaking my head, I glared at him. The desire of surrendering to his embrace slowly diminishes as the realization dawns on me.

I shouldn't like him. It should never turn into something more than attraction. 

"Is that a problem?" He smirked, still unfazed with my disappointment. 

"I feel fucking used."

"I think you are blessed, Lyra Ellison." He leaned to whisper in my ear. "Having me as your fated mate means that you are going to be protected by me at all cost."

He pulled me to his arms, embracing me like a man does to his lover in the films I'd watched. Yet, instead of feeling the butterflies in my stomach, the revelation only sickened me more.

"So accept me, Lyra. Accept me as your husband and give me a child. I don't care how many."

"Having you as my husband disgusts me." I didn't care if it ticked him off. 

"Oh?" He pulled me away, grinning as he studied my expression. "My, kitten, it's always so fascinating that you never bore me even once. But you should be thankful that you are fated mate despite your impertinence."

He grabbed my chin as he forced me to stare at his eyes. "Because your kind, especially the humans living in the Slumber Hound City, are the kind I won't hesitate to remove from the equation."

I shot him a glare, my fists clenched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Didn't you know?" He let me go as he chuckled once more. His eyes showed hostility rather than amusement. "Or perhaps your city has been indoctrinated after your ancestors have been thrown to the underground pit."

"What?"

"The people from Slumber Hound City are the ancestors of the ones who wiped out my whole race…"

His expression turned sour as he stared at me. His eyes flickered brighter red—the most inhumane I'd seen from him. "And so, I, the only sole survivor, gave retribution for the death of my family."