Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (26)

Stunned, I almost asked how he knew what sizes I would need, and why he seemed so certain I would agree to this asinine bargain. But I refused to let him deter me. “I would appreciate an answer to my question.” I swallowed. “Majesty.”

“Florian.” He continued reading a document I couldn’t see.

My teeth gnashed.

“I am curious.” The scratch of a quill sounded, and then he finally deigned to give me his full attention. “What exactly did I do to you?”

My ire dripped away as he leaned against the cabinet with his elbows upon the wood and crossed his booted ankles. The fabric of his silken black shirt tightened over his muscular arms.

No one had any right to look like him. As though the night sky and all of its stars lived within his eyes and the dark hair that fell in soft waves over his shoulders. As though Mythayla, goddess of the skies that watched over all, had crafted his bone structure from the marble statues created to replicate and honor her.

My tongue felt thick as I said, “You know what you did.”

He waited, a maddening curl to his plush lips.

I nearly growled, so flustered and nervous and terrified and...

And unbearably excited.

“Say it, sweet creature.” Florian straightened and strode toward me. “I’m starving to hear all about how I devoured your beautiful cunt to make you more amenable to my wicked plans.”

I wouldn’t, and he knew that.

As he reached me and collected a curl nestled over the curve of my cheek, my heart faltered. It dropped into my stomach when his amusement vanished.

Frosted anger hardened his features.

His eyes darkened to a blue so deep, they were nearly black. He sniffed, releasing my hair to circle me slowly. “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t have asked the question any clearer,” he said through teeth I knew were gritted before he stopped in front of me once again.

“I haven’t been anywhere today,” I said, confused. “Only here.”

“You were followed, then,” Florian surmised. “By a male.”

Gold eyes. Dark hooded cloak.

My chin was taken, the king’s grip firm but not enough to hurt. “You were aware?”

I saw no reason to keep the bizarre encounter with the golden-eyed faerie to myself. “The alley downstairs. Someone was standing at the end, watching me from the street. I ran to the rear entrance before he could approach me.”

He searched my eyes, as if ensuring I spoke the truth. Still startled by his reaction yet having nothing to hide, I let him. “He scared you.”

I nodded once.

“And he should,” Florian said coldly. His touch fell, and he stalked back to the liquor cabinet. “There are some who seek to stop me.”

“Those you are waging war against?” I pressed boldly.

He tensed.

Then, to my surprise, he answered me. “Yes. Should something like that happen again, you are to tell me right away.”

I tried to keep the spark of fear those words gave from entering my voice. “You expect it to happen again?” The idea of seeing that male again frightened me more than marrying this frosty king.

“No, but it’s wise to be cautious regardless.” Florian looked me over, something moving behind that deep-sea gaze. “Did you happen to see what he looks like?”

“Gold eyes,” I said instantly. “Nothing more.”

Florian stared at me for a minute that seared each breath, his jaw ticking. He was agitated, and though I knew it was not my fault, an impulse to soothe gripped me. But then he looked at the cabinet, and I followed his gaze to what he’d been busy with when I arrived.

A contract.

He placed his finger between his teeth—between his canines.

Blood crawled from the tip of his forefinger when he lewdly removed it from his mouth. I watched it bead, then race down to his hand.

“Introducing you to the life force of our people will be a joy indeed.”

Horror trickled down my spine. All the while, something stirred awake within me. Something unfamiliar yet hungry that slumbered deep within my bones.

I didn’t dare meet his gaze while I failed to blink at the sight of his blood and warred with that strange entity, but I felt it. His own hunger and curiosity pushed upon my skin like the bruising touch of his hands.

His bloodied finger was then pressed to the contract without hesitation.

Then again, there was no need for him to hesitate. This was his plan. This was why he wanted to meet with me in his pleasure house.

His hand rose, and as it fell to his side, I stepped forward and stared at the large fingerprint inked in blood above the black looping scrawl of his name.

The magnitude of what was happening settled like sharp rocks within my chest and stomach. I blinked heavily, my terrified heart all I could hear and the parchment all I could see.

A blood contract. Escapable only in death.

I’d already known as much. All marriages and contracts concerning the Fae were the same—eternally inescapable. Yet I stared down at the parchment spread atop the cabinet over rings of long-dried liquor, unmoving. Scarcely breathing.

There was no name beneath the awaiting space where I would leave my own fingerprint.

Knowing what had snagged and stolen my focus, Florian murmured, “You need not have a name. Your blood is all that is required.” His heat enveloped as he moved in behind me. He shifted my heavy hair to one shoulder to graze his lips against my ear. “Your blood is all that matters.”