“He’s your maker?” I whisper in astonishment.
“Yes.” He turns his head towards me, fixing me with those haunted eyes. “But my allegiance to him is much more than that. Killian’s not only my maker. He gave me a second chance, granted. He gave me a purpose. A family. He has been there for me for more than half a millennium. He has guided me, trained me. We are brothers in arms, but after all this time, he is the closest thing to a sibling that I will ever have.” Blaise lets go of my hand and wipes away the errant tears that stain his cheeks. “As much as I flirt, and I act rakishly, I would neverfathom causing him harm, not even by sleeping with the pretty troublemaker he so much desires.”
I ignore the fluttering of my heart at that statement. I should not feel soft and gooey inside at the mention of Killian’s desire towards me.
“So where does that leave us then, Blaise?” My voice is barely above a mumble, and I’m not even surprised anymore at the creeping affection I’m starting to feel towards the pained vampire.
“Friends, that leaves us being friends, princess.” He watches me, tentative hope swirling in his sea-colored gaze.
“Friends. I think I’d like that.” I nod and stand to leave. It’s not something I would have ever expected to say to a vampire, but somehow this is my new reality. Life is funny that way, isn’t it?
I hover near the door, turning slightly to ask one last question. “What is it he needs my sister for?”
“That, ask him directly, kitty. It’s not my story to tell.” His lips quirk up in a sad smile, and I nod again before leaving.
It was a long shot anyway, but I had to ask.
CHAPTER 14
Aimee
Anothertwodayspass,and I swear the lecherous dreams are turning preposterous. I just woke up from one, and I palm the back of my head, my skin hot and clammy. I kick the covers with my feet, the red slip on satin nightgown clinging to my overheated body. My nipples are taut to the point that it’s painful, and I rub together my drenched thighs.
Dream Killian overpowered me in the hallway, pushing me against the stone-cold walls and discarding my flimsy panties before I could even gasp. He pushed his rock-hard cock in between my ass cheeks, while pinning my arms above my head with one hand, and pushing my legs further apart with his knees.
Unlike my usual nightmares about the gangly youths forcing themselves upon me, this time around, arousal coursed through my veins instead of dread. I pushed my ass into his erection and moaned, while he grabbed the sides of my dress and pulled roughly, tearing it at the seams.
His wicked tongue lapped languidly at the pulse point at my neck, and his other hand found its way between my legs.
“So drenched, little umbra,” he all but purred in my ear. “Are you ready?” I whimpered in response, lost in the avalanche of sensations flooding my body.
At the same time his fingers found my entrance, pushing three inside at once, crooking them almost instantly to hit that sweet spot at my core, the crown of his cock slipped past my cheeks and into my ass, filling me in a throbbing, excruciating slow manner.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I panted, losing any semblance of composure. I was burning up; my skin felt like one thousand degrees, and only his smoldering touches could soothe the fire within. He started a punishing rhythm, his fingers crisscrossing relentlessly, while his cock pushed and retreated, only to push harder and farther inside.
I could feel the pleasure gaining traction, up, up, surge after surge forming a tidal wave of violent rapture that threatened to drown me. I was on the precipice, about to crest the surface, when the dream shattered and I woke up a sweaty, hyperventilating mess.
It’s been like this for over a fortnight now, my erotic night encounters dissolving into thin air before I can succumb to the ecstasy and find release. For the first week, I tried to chase my sensual euphoria with my own fingers, but any meek climax I could bring forth was more dispiriting than anything else. It all left me ravenous, to the point of breaking.
I had put all my hopes into Blaise fulfilling that need, but since that idea went up in flames, I have nothing else left up my sleeve. If that imperious rake won’t touch me, what chance do I have to find a willing body in this damned kingdom?
I’ve even started to consider taking Killian to bed once, just once, to flush him out of my system. Once can’t hurt, right? It’sprobably not even going to live up to the hype that I’ve concocted in my head.
Who the fuck am I kidding? There is no way that male won’t shatter me into pieces to such a degree that no amount of magic I don’t even possess could mend me back together. I am usually all in when it comes to instant gratification, but exploring this side of him would damage me to a point of no return. I can feel it in my bones. And if you add on top of this, whatever cruel torture my sister would put me through if she ever found out that I got tangled up with the Crimson One, it’s blatantly obvious why I have to control these ridiculous urges. Aurora will not take kindly to my sampling her cake, even if she loathes the flavor, having been raised to defeat the Vampire King. He is hers to kill or to fuck, according to the prophecy. It’s as stark as that.
I toss and turn in bed for another half an hour before I accept defeat. Sleep won’t come back so easily. I glance at the pendulum clock on the far right wall, and it’s a little bit over midnight. The castle seems asleep, with no sounds coming at all from the hallway.
I crave the liquid relief that a bottle of Fae wine can bring me, so I saunter to the door, not bothering with covering myself with a shawl. The trip to the kitchens and back shouldn’t take me that long, and maybe getting drunk is the solution. A temporary one, but a solution nevertheless.
I open the door and stumble upon the object of my desire himself, all disheveled and dripping carnal intensity, his fist halted mid-air, poised to knock. I take in his rumpled appearance, his dark shirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing his tanned chest and crimson tattoos that swirl on the edges of his frame, creating the optical illusion of slight movement. Must he always look this infernally mouthwatering?
“You’re up,” he says at the same time I whisper, “You’re back.” I take a step back into my room. My pulse is fluttering in my neck. This is the opposite of steering clear of him.
Don’t come in. Don’t come in.I chant like a prayer in my head, as I cling in desperation to the last remnant of my lucidity.
He crosses the threshold and closes the entrance behind him. Of course, there are no Gods, holy or unholy, to listen to my pleas and grant me a little leniency. It’s much more entertaining to let me squirm and anguish myself. They probably have bets going on about how fast and how hard I am going to fall. Omnipotent jerks!
“I arrived a few hours ago, and got updated on the latest reports.” His gaze lingers lazily on the crook of my neck, lowering to my shoulders, my cleavage and my still taut nipples. His jaw ticks, and his fingers clench at his side. “I heard you gave Blaise a run for his money, jumping on him like that. He had to nurse that boner for a whole day after. His words, not mine.” He regards me in a way that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. No fucking way!
