Good.
She whimpered when his fangs nipped her flesh, pressing deep enough to sting. Rune licked away the sting before kissing the bite. His mouth was a brand on her skin, rendering her molten. His lips left featherlight impressions along her jaw toward her mouth. She waited for the kiss, but cool air brushed her thighs as he lifted the front panel of her dress.
He chuckled low. “Already wet for me, Alora?”
She flushed at the crude words and tried to close her legs again, but the shadows held her in place. “Rune?—”
He tsked, his hands making their ascent up her shaking thighs. His claws snipped away her soaked undergarments. “Oh, no, songbird. You already gave me permission, and I intend to hear you sing.”
She held still, breath trembling, waiting for the warmth of his fingers. But gasped at the first stroke of cool shadow against her folds. They moved over her wet flesh, teasing her slowly, wrapping around a bundle of nerves that made her back arch with a moan.
“Such a pretty little clit,” Rune rumbled softly. “Your scent is mouthwatering. I imagine you taste as good as you smell. If you knew how much I craved you, how I starve to feel you coming on my tongue.”
She shivered at the filthy words, thrilled and scandalized at the thought of his mouth between her thighs.
“Or how often I grow hard at the mere thought of you.”
Every quiet confession sent a wash of shocking heat into her stomach, sinking down further. Her thighs clenched.
He was so close.
The front of her gown was snipped away next, leaving her breasts exposed. The warmth of his breath fanned over them, but he did not touch. She whined, squirming. She wanted his hands on her skin, his mouth on her lips.
But all Rune allowed were his shadows.
They answered his temper, binding her in place. Every breath between them burned, half fury, half longing. Each stroke was smoke gliding over her sensitive flesh, teasing until she was throbbing and panting. Insane with lust. Her hips rocked against the wisps of shadows, her moans begging for more friction.
For him.
It was infuriating that she couldn’t move or touch him. The shadows moved quicker, bringing her to the edge as her orgasm peaked.
And then everything stopped at once.
The shadows fell away from her wrists and ankles, unveiling her eyes. Rune straightened her gown in place. She blinked, dazed, staring at him in confusion.
He gave her a shrewd smile. “Have a good night.”
Then he vanished with his shadows and the candlelight returned.
Alora gaped at the spot where he stood, gasping in shock, her legs still trembling from her fading climax that never arrived.
He left her aching and unsatisfied. Maddening torture. A punishment not of pain but of denial.
And perhaps, a distraction.
She laughed at herself, if only stop herself from shattering the furniture with her anger and humiliation. The folded page crinkled lightly beneath her palm. Alora opened it and a spider lily fell out, landing on her lap.
Her eyes widened.
She picked up the strange scarlet flower with spindly petals. The flower sparked with light the moment her fingers closed around the stem. Her skin prickled in response, a strange energy vibrating beneath her flesh. Like the ring Rune had placed on her hand. But it felt… familiar.
Ancient.
She heard a whisper, faint and breathless like a breeze passing through, as if the castle itself was speaking. A chill snaked down her spine.
The language meant nothing to her ears. The words were eerie, breathed through the stone, and yet it curled around her bones with the weight of something sacred.
Or damned.
