"Yes, thank you," he replied. "And I do eat food. Although I drink blood, real food is also a requirement for a vampire's survival."

"Oh," Lark muttered, his face flushing.

Not really intending to embarrass the human, he smiled and moved the conversation forward. He wasn't a diplomat for nothing. "Declan tells me the cinnamon rolls are delicious. Did you or your friend make them?" he asked cordially, not really caring about the answer as he helped himself to a mug of coffee from Lark's tray.

"Um, no," Lark replied, quickly regaining his composure. "A local shifter is an amazing baker and we like to keep some of his goodies at the house. His cinnamon rolls are his specialty and they really are fantastic."

Caspian nodded slightly, looking toward the pastries on the tray held by the other man. Their sweet scent called to him on a more primitive level than he expected, and to his surprise, he felt his shaft stir. As the albino with the food stopped in front of him, the wonderful aroma hitting his senses intensified. His blood surged south and his cock wasn't the only thing that suddenly ached. His fangs itched and a low growl rolled through Caspian's throat as realization struck. It wasn't the sweets that called to him, it was the shifter! This guy could very well possibly be his adorato, his beloved.

"Mine!" he snarled, dropping the cup, not caring what happened to it, and reached for the sweet-smelling man in front of him. He wrapped his hands around the small shifter's arms, just below where they met his shoulder, careful to keep the claws that had lengthened from his nails from digging into the guy's flesh.

A hard pull had the shocked albino stumbling forward and sprawling over his lap, the platter of cinnamon rolls tumbling from his hands and clattering gods knew where. The feel of the man's compact body against his own had a pleased groan rumbling up his chest. Caspian's vision hazed, giving everything a reddish tint, and he knew his eyes had turned blood red, something that happened only when a vampire fought or fed. Caspian knew which one he wanted, needed, to do right now.

Caspian buried his face in the small man's neck, inhaling deeply. Loving the effect the scent had on his jerking shaft, Caspian placed wet, open-mouthed kisses up the man's neck. When he reached the soft flesh behind the other man's ear, he sucked softly. The firm body in his arms seemed to melt into him, molding against him in Caspian's lap. A soft sigh breathed across Caspian's ear, telling him exactly how much the shifter enjoyed the sensations he created.

Needing more, Caspian scraped his teeth down the throbbing vein. Imagining how wonderful this man would taste, this man whom he was ninety-nine percent certain was his beloved, his soul mate, had a shudder working through Caspian's body. He couldn't wait to confirm his suspicions. Caspian opened his mouth and suckled the pulse point of his shoulder, preparing to strike, to give the man as much pleasure as he knew he'd receive, when his cute little man was wrenched from his grip.

Caspian roared and leapt to his feet, only aware of his visceral reaction to reclaim the albino. He needed to confirm that this guy was indeed the one Fate had granted him. Caspian rushed after the alpha's mate, who was pulling the albino out of the room.

Before he could take two steps, a massive, three hundred pound wolf drove him to the ground. The shock of having a shifter on his chest, or maybe it was the blazing pain rocking through his head from where it hit the coffee table on his way to the floor, had his bloodlust receding enough to think.

He froze under the heavy body and looked into the angry brown eyes of the wolf pinning him to the floor. The murderous glint in the intelligent eyes told Caspian one thing--he'd just royally fucked up.