Wrong answer.
I slap her rear on both sides at once, pushing inside her to the hilt.
“You. Are. Mine,” I roar, my anger returning tenfold as I ram inside her wildly.
The telltale prickles of my orgasm tighten my balls before I release inside her just as she trembles with her own climax.
I don’t linger afterwards. I push back on my knees, letting her go and sitting back on my haunches. My breath comes out in uneven spurts, my eyes roaming her naked flesh as she gathers herself from the ground and stands on shaking legs.
She looks over her shoulder at me, steel determination swimming in her golden gaze.
“This changes nothing between us,” she says coldly, before summoning her shadows back to herself with a flick of her fingers.
Covered in only black tattoos, she starts the trek back to the palace, her chin held high in regal poise.
Her parting words fill me with disdain.
She’s mistaken.
This changes everything.
Chapter 11
Blaise
“Stopfuckingstammering,Mattya,and start over. What did you hand over to Killian?”
I’m currently pacing in Killian’s study, a heap of papers lying on the floor from all the frantic searching for any clue of his and Aimee’s whereabouts.
“It was j-ju-just a le-lett-letter,” Mattya babbles, his face an unflattering shade of red. The poor kid is ten seconds away from fainting, and I would normally find his sputtering hilarious.
But even I can recognize the direness of the situation. Killian and Aimee’s vanishing act has nothing remotely funny in it. They could be caught in Morweena’s coercive clutches, or even worse, dead.
“We brought the Vampire King an official missive from Reweroth, sir,” Axel interjects, maintaining his composure much better than his older brother. “It bore the human leadership seal, and he opened it immediately after inquiring about your whereabouts.”
“What did the letter say?” I ask, pulling at my braids in trepidation.
“That we do not know, sir. The King did not disclose such information to us.”
A suave tap on my shoulder pulls my focus back from the rabbit hole where my thoughts have been spiraling since we arrived at the castle, and I turn to look at Sariah’s entrancing face.
She’s perched on Killian’s desk, biting her plump lower lip as she extends her hand toward me, holding a crumpled piece of paper.
“I think this might be it,” she says, and her calm demeanor and crystal-clear voice soothe my nerves.
I grab the parchment with shaking fingers, grazing her palm for a fraction of a second as I do so. The contact sends sparks of electricity into my bloodstream, and I shake my head slightly, trying to dispel the trance.
This is not the time to indulge in my attraction to her.
I unfold the paper and start reading, hyper-aware of the way she is leaning over my shoulder, her breath fanning across the nape of my neck, as she scrutinizes the words written in a curled calligraphy.
The inked letters blend in a blurred jumble that I can’t decipher.
I seem to be incapable of thinking clearly around her, and it’s a fatal flaw in our current predicament.
“Here, you read it,” I say as I hand her back the scroll.
I really need to get my shit together fast.
