Along with every logical thought that was previously occupying my dense little brain.
A growling groan turns to agony so fierce I can taste it against his flicking tongue. Every part of his body tenses as some kind of pain takes over. But still, he kisses me like I’m the only thing keeping him from dying.
It’s the strangest thing to feel like someone needs you. It isn’t like being wanted at all.
Desire. Longing. Lust.
They’re nothing compared to love.
That’s oddly what this demanding, passionate kiss feels like.
And that’s why I jerk away from him, shoving my hands between us to accommodate even more space between me and that consuming sensation of being cherished. The moment I do, he falls to his knees. Both hands hit the ground hard. His head lowers, and he trembles in torment, curling up on his side as unseen violence rains down on him.
A controlled scream attempts to rip from his tightly clenched teeth but he doesn’t let it out.
Price Ravar lowers down, squatting at his brother’s side with the most demented smile kissing his thin lips.
“She tasted good, did she? The things you can’t have always taste the best.” The Prince’s smile is still in place, and his eyesburn with shining magic as he glares down on the man lying at his feet.
“Fucking delicious,” Roman taunts, his own smile curling his lips through the pain that covers his face. “I bet when you finally taste her, she’ll taste like …mine,” he spits just before a hard tremble overtakes him and he swallows back a scream stuck in his throat.
It’s that comment that finally shatters the amusement in the Prince’s eyes. With a deadly scowl, his boot collides with Roman’s ribs, and then he turns abruptly away before the gasping pain even leaves his brother’s mouth. Prince Ravar storms through the aisle without looking back. “Punishment, Zilo! Punishment!” he beckons over his shoulder before shoving open the heavy double doors and exiting the regal room entirely.
I stand there looking at one man while worrying over another. I don’t help Rome. I can’t.
Instead, I walk right back to my seat with that sickness clawing at my stomach. With all eyes on me, I cling to that unimpressed look hiding my messy emotions behind empty eyes.
Then I pick up that disgusting fucking meat.
And I eat it.
I eat it like I belong here.
I eat it like I love it here.
I eat it like I’m the most devout little follower of the Prince of Hell.
And later, when I’m finally alone, I’ll vomit all of the disturbing things I’ve taken in tonight right back up.
EIGHT
IT’S GETTING HARD
It’sodd to be alone in the night. The three of them never came to bed. And I never slept.
So, I wait. My legs are curled tightly beneath the gown that I came here in. It’s been washed yet it’s far from new again. It’s thin and tattered, but it gives me a weird little sense of comfort that I didn’t know I needed until now. It doesn’t relax me enough to ease how hard my hands are clinging to my arms as I hold myself on the small black velvet settee. The pretty cloth no longer smells like mother. The scent of cold ash stains its threads.
It stains me.
What in the fucking Goddess Moon’s name am I doing here? An adventure? I thought this shit was going to be an adventure? A fucking purpose?
Purpose doesn’t exist in hell. I was wrong.
I was so damn wrong it’s insulting how easily I walked away from a good family. A kind man. And a safe pack who never truly accepted me.
The sound of hinges whining doesn’t catch my attention. The heavy fall of footsteps clumping over dark hardwood floors doesn’t so much as scratch at the back of my messy thoughts.His warm hand gently pressing to my collarbone, along the fine flesh there, that’s what draws me to the serious eyes that hold…concern?
Could Zilo dare to be concerned when he has so much cruelty to attend to?
