“You shouldn’t have any more problems from the Prideaux witches,” I said, trying to stop myself from crying. “No one will be coming for your magick any time soon.”
“All the same, I’ll keep this one safe.” She tucked it inside her apron. “Now, you’ve been on the road for days. You and His Grace should head to the bathhouse. I’ll have the temperature adjusted so you don’t overheat your blood.” She wagged a finger at me. “Women in your condition shouldn’t sit too long in hot water.”
I eyed her suspiciously.
“Don’t look at me like that. I can always tell when a woman is with child.”
Bastien and I exchanged looks. “On my honor, I’ll ensure she doesn’t get too overheated.”
She handed Bastien the key to the bathhouse. “See that you do.”
We said our goodnights, and she promised to bring me scones in the morning. Bastien guided me out the back door and across the cold grass. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. The black lake. The little homes. The witch sitting on her porch. When I’d first come here, I’d assumed everything and everyone was here to hurt me, including the man escorting me.
Now, with kinder eyes, I saw this place for what it truly was. A warm, family home, where generations lived together and provided a safe place for travelers.
Bastien unlocked the wooden door, and I was overcome with a sense of deja vu. The black stone, the gentle candlelight flickering above the steaming pool, the scent of herbs and pine lingering in the air.
I could feel Bastien’s eyes on me as I entered. This was the place where he’d saved my life. Where I’d been reborn in the water. My husband came behind me and set his hands on my collarbone. I leaned into his touch. Enjoying it. Finally, we were truly alone. Caught somewhere between responsibilities. Not quite the High Prince and Princess. Not quite parents. Not quite anything, except who we were to each other.
Slowly, silently, he pulled the strings of my cloak, releasing the knot until it fell to the floor. Next came the buttons on the back of my dress. The fabric spread apart inch by inch until he could slide the sleeves down my arms, and the material puddled at my feet.
“Claire…” He said my name like a prayer.
I stepped out of the dress and eased my back against his chest. He dragged his hands up my bare stomach until he reached my breasts. Goosebumps dotted my skin despite the warmth of the room. He gently cupped them, and I found they were sensitive to the touch.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered against my neck. “Are you alright?”
I hadn’t realized I was shaking until he drew attention to it. I shook my head. “It’s the good kind of trembling. It’s just… you. Your touch.”
“Well, in that case...” Gently, he removed the pins Tansy had placed in my hair and let my hair fall. Then he smoothed it over one shoulder, his lips following, ghosting over my neck. Over the scars I’d bear for the rest of my life.
“You’re perfect,” he said. The reverence in his voice nearly undid me. “Exactly as you are.” He spun me in his arms so I was facing him, then, with his eyes fixed on me, he lowered onto his knees.
Just when I thought he was getting ready to unclasp my garters, he pressed a kiss against my belly, his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me close.
Tears filled my eyes, and my fingers tangled in his hair. “You can hear him, can’t you?”
He looked up at me. “Just now. Yes. I can.”
Something raw caught in my throat. The love. The deep, unadulterated love that he had for me, for us. It was as present as the steam hanging in the air or the scent of herbs.
It was everywhere. All around me.
He grinned against my thigh, his teeth scraping over the thin material of my stockings, and I gasped. I knew what he wanted. And I wanted it too. It had been weeks since he fed properly. Getting by on nothing more than finger picks.
His fingers curled around the straps attached to my nylons. He looked up at me, his eyes dark, his jaw tight. “May I?” I nodded, barely able to speak. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
“Don’t you dare stop.”
The ink bled into his eyes, and his fangs lengthened. At onepoint, I’d been unable to watch him drink, but now, I reveled in it. Loved the dark thing that he became for me. I wanted to unleash him.
His tongue traced up my skin, just beneath the apex of my thighs, then he sank his teeth into me, his mouth sealing over my skin as he drank. A cry tore from my throat, pleasure and pain blurring into one as my body arched into his, my fingers tightening in his hair.
I felt his hunger, his need, and it mirrored my own, the bond between us open and thrumming once more. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed until right now. The ache for him.
He growled with pleasure, and the sound vibrated through me. I shuddered, my knees giving way. He wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me against him as he continued to drink, his mouth so cold that it burned. But this wasn’t a feeding. No. It was just a taste. A tease. As much for me as it was for him.
He lifted his head, his lips stained red, his eyes wild, feral. “Mine,” he growled. “You are mine.”
