Kendrick glances in the rearview. “I’m going to see what the fuck is holding everything up.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just steps out, leaving the heater running, and shuts the door with a firm click.
The silence that follows is deafening. Just her shallow breathing, my heartbeat and the distant murmur of engines idling. I should call him back. I shouldn’t be alone with her like this, not when she’s this raw, not when I’m this useless.
But then I remember how she was with Damon. The way he’d handled her the night she came back from seeing Kelsey’s body on campus. He hadn’t talked her down with words. He’d just… let her rest her cheek on his thigh, fingers in her hair. He’d let her take from him and the panic stopped. I’d watched the two of them, jealous as hell that he had that kind of intimacy with her, that quiet power to anchor her when everything else failed.
I swallow. Shift so my shoulder is against the door, legs spread enough to make room. “Arianette.”
She doesn’t respond, just presses closer.
I lift her chin gently with two fingers. Her dark brown eyes are glassy, pupils blown, streaked with black tears. “Do you want me to help you calm down?” My voice comes out rough. “The way Damon does?”
A tiny nod–barely there, but enough.
I don’t think. Just act.
I yank my dress shirt out of my trousers, fingers fumbling the buckle, the zipper. My cock is already half-hard from the proximity, from the way she smells like jasmine and the softness of her skin. I pull myself free–heavy, thick, the head flushed dark–and guide her down with a hand at the nape of her neck.
Her mouth opens on instinct. Warmth envelops me in one slow slide, soft lips stretching around the girth, tongue flattening instinctively along the underside. No teasing or performance. She takes me deep enough that I feel the back of her throat flutter, then settles–cheeks hollowing just enough to hold me snug, no bobbing, no sucking. Just warm, wet, steady pressure that makes my pulse thud heavy in my ears.
I exhale hard through my nose and cup the back of her head, holding her in place. My other hand strokes down the column of her throat, thumb resting on the leather collar. She responds with a subtle swallow around me, her body relaxing inch by inch. The shivering eases. Her breathing stutters, deepens, syncing with the rise and fall of my chest. She’s quiet now, except for the soft, wet sounds of her mouth working gently around me whenever she swallows.
It’s not about getting off. It’s about grounding her. About giving her something solid, something real to focus on when the world is spinning too fast. My cock twitches once, involuntarily, and she hums–a tiny, soothing vibration that shoots straight to my balls. I grit my teeth, force myself to stay still.
The driver’s door opens. Kendrick slides back in, cheeks flushed from whatever argument he just won with the valets. He doesn’t look back–just starts the engine, eases us forward as the line finally breaks. Once we’re through the gates and back on the road toward home, Itrace the edge of her jaw where it stretches around me with my thumb.
“Is that any better?” I ask quietly.
She doesn’t answer with words. Just releases me slowly–black-stained lips dragging along the length until the head pops free with a soft, wet sound. A thin string of saliva connects us for half a second before it breaks. She sits up, eyes clearer now, focused. The panic is still there, lurking at the edges, but it’s quieter. Manageable.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and nods once–small, certain.
“Yeah,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “Better.”
I regret stopping her so soon, but we’re almost back at the House of Night, the forest trees swallowing the moonlight. I tuck myself away, re-zip, and smooth my shirt back into place like nothing happened. But my hand stays on her–palm flat against her thigh, anchoring her to me.
She leans into my side, head on my shoulder.
I don’t say anything else.
I just hold her.
And for the first time in twenty years, I don’t feel like I’m failing someone who’s breaking.
31
Arianette
I stepout of the car onto the gravel drive, but my legs buckle like they're made of water, knees giving way before I can catch myself. The world tilts but before I hit the ground strong arms scoop me up–effortlessly, like I'm nothing more than a feather caught in the wind. The King's chest is solid against my side, his heartbeat steady through his shirt, and I curl into him without thinking, face pressed to the crook of his neck.
I wait for him to carry me down the hall to the room I share with the Barons–the familiar space with its tangled sheets and lingering traces of Damon and Hunter. Where at least I know they’ll use me, give me something to hold onto other than this aching fear in my chest.
But he doesn't. He turns the other way, shoes echoing on the stone floor as he heads toward his quarters. The door swings shutbehind us with a heavy thud, sealing us in. No one else. Just him. Just me.
He sets me down gently on the thick rug, hands lingering on my waist until he's sure I won't crumple. I stand there, heart slamming, waiting for the storm. The rebuke that'll cut deeper than any knife. The punishment–maybe the cage again, cold bars biting into my skin while he watches me break. Pain for the humiliation I brought him tonight, retaliation for the scene in the solarium, shame poured over me like acid. I deserve it. All of it.
But nothing comes. No harsh words, no grip turning bruising. Instead, he spins me around, fingers brushing the nape of my neck as he starts pulling out the pins that held my veil and hair in place. One by one, they clatter to the floor like tiny accusations. His touch dips lower then, grazing my shoulders in a way that sends sparks skittering down my arms. He gently combs through my hair with his fingers, laying it neatly down my back before he finds the long row of buttons down the back of my dress, undoing them with unhurried care–each one popping free, exposing more skin to the air until the black satin whispers down my body and pools at my feet like spilled ink beside the iron bed frame.
The fire crackles in the massive fireplace across the room, flames dancing orange and gold, but it doesn't touch the chill inside me. I'm shivering hard now, teeth almost chattering, and it's not the cool draft ghosting over my bare breasts or the fact that I'm standing here in nothing but sheer black lace panties, the ones that hide absolutely nothing. The ones I wore for him.
