You’d traded your everlasting soul so that I might be reunited with my bloodborn body, and now I’d do whatever I must to get it back.
42
Orlando
Being in that room, with its spacious bed, tall imposing columns, and endlessly steaming bath, felt like something out of a dream. Decadent and severely lacking in privacy, I guessed this was the type of environment that demons like your mother preferred.
Lena’s servants brought us food—fresh fruits and vegetables, cheese and grapes, warm bread and meat, with pastries and rich chocolates for dessert. I ate without thinking, as if compelled to do it.
Your menu was less appetizing. The first time a blood servant came to feed you, you turned him away and demanded a bag of donated blood. When you were informed there would be no “fast food,” you reluctantly accepted Lena’s offering but told me not to watch. Even though I’d promised to obey you, I couldn’t help my stare as you were presented with a man who was nearly your size. Muscular and tattooed with thick, bulging veins and a shaved head. If I’d met him on the street, I’d be on my guard, but in this setting, he seemed completely tame. Like a trained pet.
The man offered your choice of his body parts, and you selected his thick, corded forearm. You didn’t even need a blade, your teeth were so sharp. Not pointed, but razor-thin at their edges. We had to be careful last night when we kissed, so that you didn’t accidentally cut me. You’d told me that your saliva prevented the blood from clotting too quickly. Like a bloodsucking insect, this was what your mouth was designed to do.
The man was red-faced and straining as you fed. The veins in his neck popped as he jacked off to the rhythm of your sucking. It made sense to me now why the servants’ outfits were so loose and practically see-through. This place was like a constant orgy of sex, blood, and magic. Was this how true demons operated? And you seemed to slip so easily into the role of royalty.A king, Lena had said. There was always a hint of it in the way you commanded the room. And me. The control you had over the humans around us both fascinated and alarmed me. They were helpless to deny you.
But I already knew how that felt, didn’t I?
When you’d finished feeding and found yourself again, your gaze lifted to meet mine. I was sitting on the bed, engrossed by every detail of your feeding ritual and its effects on your bloodborn body. Your face was flushed and the honey brown flecks in your irises seemed to shine brighter. Your eyes were a little glassy as well.
“I told you not to watch,” you said and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The man was led away by a nurse to be treated elsewhere.
I glanced over to a marble table lined with cruel-looking instruments. In addition to bleeders, they’d brought you a variety of glinting weapons, ranging from a dagger with a curved blade to a long, fine-tipped sword. These were your instruments of death, you’d told me, from the time when you were a Roman soldier. When your brother first presented them to you earlier that morning, you stared at the weapons as if trying to place the faces of old friends you’d thought were long gone. After witnessing your skill during the day’s sparring session with Lucian, I thought the weapons seemed more like natural extensions of your arms. You were so quick to attack that the blades blurred.
And what was their purpose now?
“Do you think I would use these on you?” you asked when you noticed what had caught my attention. The uncertainty in your gaze gave me pause. How could you think I’d ever see you as a monster?
“No.”
You licked your lips, no doubt tasting the last of the man’s blood, then grabbed a sheet from the bed and threw it over the weapons so they were hidden from view.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” I said. As if.
“Something like that.”
Your strong body flexed and bunched with every movement. Muscles I never knew existed were prominent on your back and shoulders. Your loose pants couldn’t hide your hard-on. Bloodsucking made you horny. Last night we’d both been too out-of-sorts for makeup sex, but now our arousal hung like a mist in the air. I could practically smell it on you. I glanced down to see a wet spot on my tented pants.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said, just in case you’d missed all the hints I was laying down.
“You really want to do this now?” you asked, perplexed but not at all unhappy.
I swallowed down the excess saliva that had pooled in my mouth and nodded. “I need you.”
I was starved for it after all the time we’d been apart. I wanted to taste you and have you inside me, to batter my body against your hard muscles. I wanted you to devastate me so completely that all of my worries about our uncertain future disappeared.
You stalked toward me like a lion with your mane of dirty blond hair framing your face. Your short, golden beard only added to the effect. I marveled at the way you moved, with grace and purpose. You’d wielded those swords like it was second nature. I knew who you were and who you’d been, but in this body, it was undeniable. You were a killer.
You looked at me and without a word, I knew what you expected. I stripped off my clothing in a fevered flash. The four bed posts with their gauzy, white curtains made me think we were floating on a cloud. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of your pants and dragged them down to your ankles where you casually kicked them off. Your posture was arrogant as hell.
And your body…
With my fingers, I traced the ridges of your abdomen down to the hard grooves of your pelvis which narrowed toward your massive cock. You climbed onto the bed, forcing me backward, and kneeled in front of me, letting me admire you. Your erection pointed like a sword leading soldiers into battle. I pushed back your foreskin with my hand, licked all around the crown, and dragged my tongue along your bulging vein before taking you wholly into my mouth. Your fist tugged on my hair, and I wanted you to pull it harder, to push my head down and force your cock deeper into my mouth.
“Wider,” you said in that commanding tone, and I opened as much as I could. I didn’t care that my throat ached, that drool was dripping down my chin, or that my breath coming out in gasps. I only cared about satisfying you. I was jealous of that man you’d fed from, knowing his blood was now making its way through your digestive system, nourishing your body. It should have been me.
“I should purify this mouth after where it’s been,” you said, frowning down on me with deep disappointment. My balls drew up in fear.
I nodded, sorry as hell. I was ashamed of how I’d whored around with Sergei. It was wrong from start to finish. I’d been spiteful, reckless, and immature. I’d never wanted anyone but you, but I did it to hurt you, because that was better than having you indifferent.
