The Vampire king’s XXL Obsession

1

Zariah

“Hold still.”

“I am holding still.”

“No, you’re breathing.”

I looked down at Mara, who was kneeling in front of me with pins between her lips.

“I’m sorry. Should I stop doing that too?”

She pulled the pins out of her mouth and glared at me.

“If you want me to fix this hem before sunset, yes.”

I laughed under my breath.

The tiny dress shop was unusually hot that afternoon. Two windows were open, but there was barely any breeze coming through them. Rolls of fabric covered almost every free space. Dresses hung from wooden racks along the walls, and loose threads were scattered across the floor.

It was not a beautiful shop.

It was not famous either.

But it was ours.

Well, technically, it belonged to Mara’s mother.

I had been working there for almost four years.

Most days, I liked it.

I liked fabric.

I liked watching something plain turn beautiful after hours of cutting and sewing.

More than anything, I liked making dresses for women who came into the shop thinking nothing beautiful would fit them.

I understood that feeling too well.

“Finished.” Mara stood and slapped the side of my skirt. “Turn around.”

I turned toward the old mirror.

The green dress hugged my body.

My hips were wide.

My stomach was soft.

My breasts were fuller than most women’s, and my thighs had never known what it meant to leave space between them.

I stared at myself for a few seconds.

Mara came to stand beside me.

“You look good.”

“I know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“At least pretend to be humble.”

“I tried humility once. It was exhausting.”

She laughed.

That was when the bell above the door rang.

We both turned.

Two vampire women walked inside.

I recognized them immediately.

Lady Evara and her younger sister, Melisandre.

They came from one of the noble houses in the upper district.

They were the kind of women who entered a room already expecting everyone else to move aside.

Both were tall and slim, with pale skin and expensive silk gowns.

Lady Evara looked me up and down.

Her lips curved slightly.

“Oh.”

That one little sound told me enough.

I stepped away from the mirror.

“Good afternoon, my ladies.”

Mara immediately became nervous.

Rich vampires meant good money.

They also meant trouble.

Lady Evara walked toward one of the racks.

“I was told the gown for Lady Celestine was ready.”

“It is,” Mara said quickly. “We finished the final beadwork this morning.”

Melisandre was still looking at me.

Not my face.

My body.

I knew that look.

I had seen it since I was thirteen.

People thought staring became acceptable when they added disgust to it.

Her eyes moved over my hips.

Then my stomach.

Then she looked at Mara.

“You make clothing in her size?”

Mara stiffened.

I smiled.

“Yes. We discovered fabric can stretch farther than your imagination.”

Mara coughed to hide a laugh.

Melisandre’s face hardened.

Lady Evara glanced over.

“Zariah.”

So she remembered my name.

How touching.

“You should be careful speaking that way to nobility.”

“And you should be careful insulting the person who fixes your dresses.”

Her eyes narrowed.

For one second, I wondered whether I had gone too far.

Then Mara’s mother appeared from the back room.

“Lady Evara.”

She smiled quickly.

“Your gown is ready.”

She gave me a warning look.

I stepped away.

I knew when to stop.

Mostly.

Mara followed me toward the worktable.

“Why do you always do that?” she whispered.

“Do what?”

“Fight people who could have you arrested.”

“I didn’t fight her.”

“You told her sister she had no imagination.”

“That isn’t illegal.”

“Yet.”

I grinned.

Then Mara’s mother called my name.

“Zariah.”

Something in her voice immediately ruined my mood.

I turned.

She was holding a large cream box.

Inside it was the most expensive gown our shop had made all year.

Dark red velvet.

Black lace.

Hundreds of tiny crystals sewn along the waist.

Lady Celestine had ordered it for tonight’s Blood Moon Banquet.

I stared at the box.

Then at Mara’s mother.

“No.”

“I didn’t ask yet.”

“You’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to destroy my evening.”

Mara covered her mouth.

Her mother sighed.

“The palace messenger was supposed to collect it this afternoon.”

I already knew where this was going.

“He hasn’t come.”

I folded my arms.

“He may still come.”

“The banquet begins in less than three hours.”

“Then Lady Celestine can attend naked.”

Mara burst out laughing.

Her mother looked horrified.

“Zariah!”

“What? It would certainly make the evening memorable.”

“You are delivering the gown.”

My smile disappeared.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I hate the palace.”

“I know.”

“They hate people like us.”

“I know.”

“They especially hate people like me.”

Her expression softened.

That made it worse.

I hated pity.

She stepped closer.

“Please.”

I looked at the box again.

I wanted to refuse.

Really.

But the shop needed Lady Celestine’s payment.

And Mara’s mother had always treated me like family.

So two hours later, I was sitting inside a hired carriage with Lady Celestine’s gown beside me.

I hated every second of it.

The higher we traveled into the city, the cleaner everything became.

Stone roads replaced dirt.

Small houses became enormous mansions.

Guards stood on almost every corner.

Then the palace appeared.

Dravenhart Palace sat above the capital like something built to remind everyone who ruled them.

Dark towers reached toward the evening sky.

Black banners hung from the walls.

The royal crest, a silver crown surrounded by wings, was carved above the massive gates.

My stomach tightened.

I had never been inside before.

Humans from the lower district did not visit the royal palace unless we were cleaning something, repairing something, carrying something, or being punished.

Tonight, I was carrying something.

Lucky me.

A guard checked my delivery papers before allowing me through.

The palace was even worse inside.

Beautiful.

But worse.

Everything was gold, black marble, polished stone, enormous paintings, and people who looked like they had never worried about the price of bread.

Music drifted through the hallway.

Servants hurried past me carrying trays.

I followed another guard toward the ballroom.

My hands tightened around the gown box.

I only needed to deliver it.

Then leave.

Simple.

At least that was what I told myself.

The ballroom doors were open.

Hundreds of guests were already inside.

Women wore jewels bright enough to blind someone.

Men stood in groups drinking from crystal glasses filled with something too red to be wine.

I looked away.

I knew what vampires drank.

I simply preferred pretending I did not.

“Lady Celestine’s dressing rooms are through there,” the guard told me.

He pointed across the ballroom.

Across.

Of course.

I had to walk through everyone.

I lifted my chin.

Fine.

I could do that.

I had taken maybe ten steps when someone moved directly into my path.

I turned too late.

The corner of my box struck someone’s arm.

A glass fell.

Dark red liquid splashed across the floor.

The room around us seemed to quiet.

“Oh God.”

I looked up.

Lady Celestine.

Of course.

Of every vampire in the entire palace, I had collided with her.

She wore a silver gown that made her pale skin glow.

Her blond hair was pinned high on her head, and diamonds covered her neck.

Her beautiful face twisted with irritation.

“Are you blind?”

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

Her gaze dropped to the box.

Then she recognized the mark of our shop.

“My gown?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes moved from the box to me.

Recognition appeared.

“You work at that little shop.”

“I do.”

She looked me over slowly.

My stomach tightened.

Here we go.

“You are the large one.”

A few people nearby laughed quietly.

Heat crawled up my neck.

I kept my expression calm.

“Yes. I am Zariah.”

She smiled.

Not kindly.

“I remember now. I once wondered how someone your size could work around dresses all day without becoming depressed.”

More laughter.

My fingers tightened against the box.

I wanted to disappear.

For one horrible second, I felt seventeen again.

Standing in a market while two girls whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

Too big.

Too wide.

Who would marry that?

I swallowed.

I refused to cry.

Not here.

Not for her.

Celestine stepped closer.

“You must envy women who can actually wear beautiful things.”

Something inside me snapped.

Maybe I was tired.

Maybe I was angry.

Maybe I had simply spent too many years allowing people to say whatever they wanted because they were richer, prettier, or more powerful.

I smiled.

“Not really.”

Her smile faded.

I continued.

“At least my body belongs to me.”

Someone nearby stopped laughing.

Celestine stared at me.

I should have stopped.

I didn’t.

“I don’t have to starve it, punish it, or squeeze it into whatever shape powerful men decide they like this year.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Even the music seemed quieter.

My heart slammed against my chest.

Celestine’s face turned red.

“You insolent little…”

I suddenly realized no one was looking at her anymore.

They were looking behind me.

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I turned.

A man stood across the ballroom.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Black clothing.

Dark hair.

His face was almost unnaturally handsome, but there was nothing gentle about it.

He looked like the sort of man people feared before he ever spoke.

My breath caught.

I knew exactly who he was.

Everyone did.

King Vaelor Dravenhart.

The Vampire King.

The man mothers used to frighten children into behaving.

The man rumored to have killed an entire rebel council in one night.

The king who had rejected every woman offered to him for centuries.

And he was staring directly at me.

His eyes were dark.

Cold.

Unreadable.

I suddenly remembered every stupid thing I had said in the last minute.

Oh, wonderful.

Maybe insulting half the nobility inside the king’s ballroom had not been my brightest decision.

Our eyes met.

Something strange happened.

His expression changed.

Barely.

So little I might have imagined it.

His hand moved toward his chest.

Just for a second.

Then stopped.

I looked away first.

I needed to leave.

Immediately.

I shoved the gown box into the hands of the nearest servant.

“For Lady Celestine.”

Then I turned and walked toward the ballroom doors.

I could feel eyes following me.

Dozens of them.

But one pair felt heavier than the rest.

His.

I refused to turn around.

I crossed the hallway.

Then the next.

Only when I reached the palace entrance did I finally breathe properly again.

I had survived.

Barely.

Back inside the ballroom, King Vaelor Dravenhart continued staring at the doorway long after I disappeared.

Then he turned slightly toward the guard standing beside him.

His voice was low.

Cold.

Certain.

“Find out who she is.”