He wouldn’t rush her.
He eased back on the kiss, sipping at her lips a moment before nipping his way over her jaw. “The place to bite is right at the crook of my neck, where it meets my shoulder. You’ll feel the vein. Let your fangs lead you; they know what to do.”
Asherah nodded as he lifted her into his arms to allow her access to his neck. She was so tiny, and he could hurt her easily with his strength.
A wave slapped him across the face.
“I’m no weak thing, Kieran of the Shadow.”
He chuckled as a softer wave rubbed away the sting. “Duly noted.”
And then he lost his mind when she took on long, silky lick over his vein before biting down, hard. He was going to come all over his armor. She hit he spot perfectly, her little mouth sealing over the wound as she sucked.
Fuck. Me.
To keep from lifting her dress and ripping away his armor so he could take her right then, Heath attacked her throat. It was rough, dangerously close to rabid, when he sank his teeth into her. Much crueler than he intended, but she screamed against his throat, wrapping her legs around his waist and grinding against him.
Yep. I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die.
The first slick of her blood against his tongue was magical. It was her, from her emotions to her spunk. The way she laughed and the soft tears in her eyes. Her spirit filled him, and he scanned so many things. So many visions of darkness and hurt. Of power and failure. Skuld, sweet and kind and then dark and horrid.
Her memories.
“Niamh? The Crone’s Feast Day in our homelands is this eve. Shall we go?”
Niamh turned, her spiked crown of silver and diamonds resting on her head matching the glittering silver dress she wore. “The Naming is today, sister mine. Did you forget?”
“I am not taking a marriage contract, Niamh. The waters have already told me of my Foraltin.”
“As you’ve told me, over a century from now. By then our alliance will be strong and you may annul on the grounds of the Fated. It is allowed, if it’s to occur, in these joinings.”
“I have said nay.”
“And I have said aye. It’s your place as princess, Asherah.”
“And what is to become of your Naming?”
Niamh swallowed, her shoulders hunching. “We will be Named together, sister.”
“Together?”
Asherah watched her sister lift her head and square her shoulders. She knew. “No.”
“It is done.”
“We will not marry them, sister. They are nothing better than slavers.”
“You are falling into idle gossip. There are no slaves in Seraph. The agreement of indentured servitude from Daemon is on the basis of punishment. They are criminals, Asherah. Criminals who owe a penance to their crown. That is all. Once they have fulfilled their sentence, they return to their lands. Just as criminals of Seraph go to Daemon for punishment. It has kept the balance by doing so for thousands of years.”
“They abuse them, Niamh.”
Niamh slammed to her feet. “I have ensured they don’t.”
The memory shifted, swirled, and Heath couldn’t let go.
Asherah ran, her soft shoes not meant for the woods, but she couldn’t stop. She had to find Niamh. Had to tell her, show her what they were doing. Explain how wrong she was, by no fault of her own.
She’d trusted the wrong ones. Too young to take the crown when their parents died suddenly. Too immature from not having lived.
