1.
He sat in the parlor with a glass of scotch. He was only vaguely aware of the heat from the fire that wasn't warming his cold body. He wasn't paying attention to anything except her. Her body. Elena's body. Elena's body upstairs in bed with his brother.
He listened to her pulse race and her breath come in hard gasps. Her low moans made his cock half hard. The corner of his mouth turned up in amusement, she was trying to be quiet. It was cute really, her attempt at discretion, she didn't know she might as well have been screaming like a porn star, she couldn't know that even at this distance her heart beat was defining.
Of course he always had the option of not listening, but he took another sip of scotch, leaned back in his chair and kept his senses acutely attuned to her hot writhing body. He wasn't in love with her, Isobel had gotten that wrong. He was obsessed with her, he wanted to possess her. He wanted to feed on her; he wanted her to beg for his fangs. He listened to her blood rush through her veins and he forgot about his brother, forgot that Stephen was the one making her gasp and moan and imagined himself above her hot, wet body. She was so... willing. He could sense it her whole body was open and ready to be taken. He was more than half hard. He could almost feel her orgasm overtake her, her body burst and pulsed with release. He could hear her and smell her, and his desire to taste her was overwhelming. Then she whispered his name.
"Stephen." she said in a haze of pleasure.
And she said it with such devotion that all at once he had the urge to rip out her throat. Or better yet rip out Stephen's and make her watch. He laughed at the thought of the terror that would sweep over her wide brown eyes. He downed the rest of his scotch and left the house. He needed to find someone to eat.