They finish their tasks around the same time, Aerin crossing to the kitchen sink. She cleans the knife she used to open her arm.
Malice comes behind her, crowding her into the countertop, looking at her wound over her shoulder. He finds his hand holding her wrist, cradling the injured forearm over his own. Aerin is formidable, yet, tucked in his arms, she feels small. He carefully rinses the wound in the lukewarm water. Despite her breath catching, Aerin’s body relaxes back against his.
“You should have let me, Princess,” Malice’s voice is raspy even to his own ears. His head buzzes with her proximity and the sickly-sweet scent of her blood.
“We needed to act quickly.” Aerin also sounds breathless. “Royal Guards are probably on their way.”
Aerin doesn’t seem nervous about that inevitability, and so neither is Malice. He will protect her. He will always protect her. She is his bonded-mate. Now, until the end of time.
Together they watch as her arm slowly stitches itself closed. Her blood glistens. The idea of her blood being taken feels repugnant, yet Malice remembers the warmth, the rush, the overwhelming bliss he experienced.
He aches for it. His body practically vibrating, his fingers tightening around her wrist as the temptation hangs before him. A poisoned apple ripe for the taking.
“Something is happening,” he whispers into Aerin’s hair, unable to take his eyes off the wound. “I want…” He can’t bring himself to say it. He wants her to justknow. He wants her to gift it to him.
“Tell me,” Aerin whispers.
Malice hesitates, watching as the wound closes to form a pink line down her forearm. Soon it will fade to white. Then it will be gone all together.
Falling away from her, Malice braces against the counter instead, using both arms to keep upright. Aerin seems disappointed by his sudden absence. She looks at him, questioning.
“Tell me.”
This time it’s not a request, but a demand. The blood-bond seems to know the difference. The little seed of Aerin inside him snaps against his bones like a rubber band. There is no stopping the words that fall from his lips.
“Your blood.”
The words hang in the air until anger blooms inside of him. Until it’s bursting out of him.
“I wanted your blood.” His voice is vicious, accusing.
Aerin flinches. It takes a long moment for her composure to return. When it does, Malice is looking at the face of the girl in the tabloids. Uninterested. Apathetic. Utterly bored.
She says nothing when she walks away.
Malice stays furious, long after Aerin disappears into her room. Any hope that she would change after becoming bonded-mates disappears down the hall with her.
Malice grinds his teeth, taking his anger out on the cameras and microphones, smashing them to pieces using only his bare hands and the underside of his boot. When he’s finished, he sweeps up the remnants and trashes them, feeling only marginally better.
He runs his fingers through his still damp hair, refrains from tugging on it. He wants to sit her down and force her to tell him everything. He wants to demand answers, about her powers, her history, her plans. He wants to bend her over and bury his cock in her, until she can’t think about anything but him.
Malice scrubs his face again. It’s the blood-bond. It’s only the blood-bond. Maybe, if he keeps telling himself that, it will become true.
A loud bang against the door jolts him from his thoughts.
Like a breeze, Aerin blows down the hallway. She showered and changed into tiny shorts and a cropped t-shirt. Her hair is pulled up in a messy pony with all her piercings on display, including two blue gems in her belly button. Malice is certain those hadn’t been there this morning.
Malice flanks Aerin as she approaches the door. Someone pounds against it. It sounds like they are trying to force their way in. No matter how angry he is at the Princess, he’ll still protect her. That’s his job, in more ways than one now.
Aerin looks at Malice directly, her hand hovering over the doorhandle.
“It’s important, for my safety, that you letmehandle this. Do you understand?”
The blood-bond snaps again, against his bones, forcing his submission. Malice finds himself nodding, despite fighting against it.
[What the fuck?! Did you know it would be like this?]Malice demands.
Reikan ignores him, even though Malice knows he’s paying attention. He can feel the Dragon’s awareness like a trickle down his spine.
