Page 155 of Blood of the Fairest

A breathless laugh escapes me. "Tempting, but it was really the whole stripping-out-of-armor bit that did it for me."

He laughs, but when his gaze drifts to my lips, a gentle furrow appears between his brows. Removing one of his gloves, he tenderly touches the place I bit my lower lip. I'd almost forgotten about it.

"Who did this to you?" His expression is tender, unlike his next words. "Whoever it was, I'll skewer his head on a pike."

Why is every hot guy in this world so violently unhinged, out of the blue?

I start to shake my head and explain, but my attention moves back to the little cut near his lip.

I don't mean to press my lips to it again. I really, really don't.

But I do, and at once, we're kissing again.

Somewhere nearby, Eris muses, "Ah, I see. His blood must be like Wulf's. I wonder why some blood is that much more tempting for you."

The knight's hands flex against me before dragging slowly up my back. They tangle in my hair so he can tilt my head better. I notice he's now being careful with the spot where my mouth is injured.

"Perhaps you should bite him to get some blood in your system before the masquerade tomorrow night. I'm sure he'd enjoy the effects of your feeding—he seems the reckless sort, after all. Plus, he doesn't seem to realize you're Reinhilde, so if you do feed on him, your hidden identity should grant you further protection."

Is Eris insane? I'm not feeding on this guy. He's nice, chivalrous, a fantastic kisser…

Tastes like a honeyed vanilla dessert.

I'm losing the fight against my better nature as I practically straddle the knight, nipping his lower lip—not enough to draw blood, but enough that I can feel the thick, rock-hard bulge in his pants twitch.

At the same time, though, he tenses beneath me.

"Fuck, sorry," I say, pulling back. "I'm getting carried away."

"No—I was just surprised how much I like it," he murmurs, sitting up to kiss me again. "Bite me as much as you want."

37

Konrad

He doesn't seem to realize you're Reinhilde.

If the ghost haunting my armor is telling the truth… I'm kissing the woman I once intended to kill.

Or am I? He also called her Verena earlier.

I'd like to figure out the true identity of this sinfully beautiful ruby-haired woman, but there's no chance of that happening while she's kissing me like this. Like she can't get enough—and she's not the only one.

Hell, the only thing that's kept me from taking things much further is our very vocal audience.

An Isenmerian horse stomps in his stall, snorting, "What a lusty lout! He'd better stop pawing at her like this. Humans shouldn't mate in stables."

"And just why not?" a mare whinnies. "It's good enough for us, isn't it? I hope that lad gives her the ride of her life!"

Another horse neighs, "I'll not watch the queen of Isenmere mounted like a bitch in heat!"

Fucking Crones, I really need to get us out of this stable.

The sooner I get my ruby-haired temptress all to myself, the sooner I can unravel her mysterious identity. After that, I can offer to let her…

Bite me for blood?

The armor ghost mentioned something about feeding. If this reverie in my lap wants my blood—as she seems to, since she keeps lapping the cut near my lip—then maybe she's not Isenmere's queen, after all. Maybe she's something demonic straight out of the Loomdark.