Page 74 of The Vespertine Treaty

His restraint, already frayed from earlier, finally snapped.

His eyes widened, the silver ring around his pupils flaring. A shocking, cruel smile took over—the expression of a predator who had just decided to stop playing with his food and start eating.

"Luckier?" he repeated, his voice a resonant, unsettling purr. He closed the already non existing distance between us, invading the air I breathed, looming over me, blocking out the everything else in the room.

"You think a common prisoner gets this?"

He reached out, his long, cold fingers twining into a lock of my red hair, yanking my head back until my neck was arched and exposed. He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing for a moment as if savouring a rare vintage. “I wondered,” he murmured, almost to himself, his gaze dropping to my lips, then to the bare skin of my clavicle exposed by the slipping silk, “what I was going to do with my new pain-in-the-ass wife. You claim you are bored, little Life-Wielder? Let us see if I can capture your interest.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. I followed his gaze to the small, crimson pillar candle burning silently on the low coffee table.

He picked it up.

The flame flickered as he brought it between us. I gulped, not knowing what to expect, my eyes wide with a terrifying mix of fear and a dangerous, unwelcome curiosity.

“I wondered since you have infected my home, my thoughts, even the solitude of my dreams,” he whispered, his eyes piercing mine, “if you would be pliant when I finally take you.”

“If you take me,” I corrected, my voice barely a breath, my defiance weak even to my own ears.

He shook his head, a slow, predatory movement. "Do not pretend you do not want it, my little ruin. Your pulse is visible from here."

He tilted the candle.

A small, molten piece of hot wax detached from the wick and fell, landing with a searing sting on my exposed clavicle.

I hissed, the pain sharp, but before I could react, he bent lower, his lips cool as they dragged over the still-warm, now cooling blob of wax, tasting it, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of bone where it had landed.

My breath hitched again, a ragged gasp. I was furious at the boil of my blood, another betrayal delivered courtesy of my unhinged husband, and yet, I was not stopping him. My body was singing with a forbidden tension on the cusp of snapping.

"Does that bore you, Ophelia?" he murmured against my skin.

"Cain..."

"Answer me."

He tilted the candle again. Another drop landed, lower this time, just above the swell of my breast, looking a lot like blood. Iarched my back off the chaise, a silent, unspoken invitation.It felt so primal and maddening.

He kept dripping, small, searing kisses following each drop, his lips dragging, tasting, and soothing across my skin. He nudged the silk of my robe down my shoulder, exposing more skin, and dripped wax there too, pressing a kiss against the cooled spot to soothe the sting.

We were caught in a trance, a temporary reprieve from our waging war. I dared to drag my fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling his head back to my neck once more.

He groaned, the sound rough and primal.

“I dreamt you would be so pliant in my arms,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw hunger. “I dreamt of fucking you raw, of bending you over, of leaving handprints and bite marks all over this delicate flesh.” His lips found the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending shivers through me. “Every thought of you consumes me, Ophelia.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still dark, burning. “And how ironic it is, little Life-Wielder, that the one meant to keep my madness in check is now my newest, most exquisite source of descent into it.”

I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling myself climbing that exquisite road to release.

He groaned again, a deep, guttural sound, and licked another searing path from my clavicle up to my jaw. When he finally brought his head up, his pupils were fully blown, thin circles of silver visible only at the very edges of his irises. His hair was mussed, his lips red and swollen.

A sudden, desperate madness of desire seized me. I reached for him, pulling, trying to bring our bodies closer, wrapping one leg around his waist.

Cain’s eyes snapped wide.

He stopped me, his hands finding my shoulders, not pushing, but holding me at bay. When our gazes locked again, I saw the shock in his still-dilated pupils, a raw, terrifying self-disgust. He dragged a hand over his mouth, almost as if he were trying to wipe away a contamination.

He pushed back from me, hard, and turned on his heel. He left as abruptly as he’d arrived, the heavy door to the sunroom slamming shut, rattling the grimy glass.