But tonight, all I want is to fall into that ring of cobalt and drown myself.
The backs of my legs hit the bed. Gideon’s eyes briefly break their lock on mine to gaze at my large, four-poster throne.
As they should.
My bed is a true masterpiece, fit for a queen.
It’s bedecked in gold silk curtains, with an Egyptian god and raunchy cherubs carved in fine mahogany by some reclusive vampire in England named Lord Valerian. It was acquired by me at great personal expense because I deserve a bed fit for a queen.
Gideon’s nimble fingers graze over the wood as if it’s delicate tissue.
Terror plunges a cold knife into my chest at the thought that he’ll laugh at me – at thiscocottewho dares to live like a queen, at the shabby facade of my life.
I realise with a start that he’s the first person whose opinion I care about.
Am I…fallingfor this human?
“This is… quite something.” Gideon’s peacock eyes flash with amusement. “I don’t know how you sleep at night with this giant crocodile-headed monster leering down at you.”
“I sleep like a little babe, and don’t you forget it.” I glance towards the coat rack in the other room. “Or I shall have Cleo II remind you.”
“What I meant to say is, terrifying animal-headed gods aside, this bed is beautiful.” Gideon reaches for me. “But not as beautiful as you.You are a mythological creature, Arabella. I can’t believe you’re real. I can’t believe you’re here in my arms.”
I expect him to kiss me then, to seal those fiery words with his tongue, but he hovers just out of reach, fanning my lips with his warm breath, making me mad with wanting him.
“Here you are, in the boudoir of a goddess. And yet you aren’t giving her what she desires.” I trail my fingers down the buttons of his shirt, letting him feel the faintest bite of my sharp, red-painted nails.
Gideon sucks in a breath as I smile. I glance down at his trousers, pleased to see his cock already hardening beneath them.
“And what is it you desire?” Gideon’s words are a whisper on my lips. “I know what I desire. I want to spread you across this enormous, ridiculous bed. I want to slowly unlace your corset until the very sensation of silk ribbons pulling across your skin sets you on edge. I want to crawl on my knees between your thighs and worship you. I want you to scream my name until the night burns into the day. I want to kiss every infuriating insult from your gorgeous, poison-filled lips.”
“Then—”
“That’s not all I want.” Delicately, he puts his hand to my cheek, his warm fingers sliding along my sensitive skin and down my neck, resting right above the jewels of my necklace. “I want to wake up beside you, not just today, but every day. I want to trace my name on your skin. I want to watch your belly swell with my child. I want to be a man worthy of being looked at the way you look at me now. I’m greedy, but I want all of you,ma petite déesse.”
My little goddess.
His breath catches, his words dripping with want and a kind of aching sadness.
How I ache for those things, too, for things that can never be, for a future with this man that was stolen from me decades ago on a hot Egyptian night.
But my sire can’t take this night from me.
For one night, I can let go.
I can surrender.
I can behis.
“Then have me,” I whisper before crushing my lips to his.
His lips are so warm, so soft, his tongue a hot demand against mine. My fingers thread through his golden hair, fingering the locks with my nails as I pull him closer, our bodies pressing together. I taste every strained breath and smell every thump of his pulse surging in his neck.
Gideon’s hands roam over my body. His fingers reach behind me, working loose the lacing of my corset. He moves slowly, keeping his promise of drawing out the torture of laces dragging across my skin as though he’s unwrapping a gift he’s anticipated all year. And he’s right, damn him – by the time he loosens the final lacing and tugs the golden corset over my head, I am a mess of want.
Beneath, I’m wearing a gold silk chemise with delicate Chantilly lace along the hem. The loose fabric kisses my skin as I shift beneath him. His breath hitches when he slides the straps over my shoulders, revealing a hint of my breasts, framed in the glittering jewels of my collar. He palms one breast and feels the nipple hard beneath the fabric.
Gideon traces the hard bud with his fingers, and I squirm against him from the delicious agony of sensation. The strangled moan that escapes his lips is pure, delicious,evil.
