Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (67)
“Careful,” I admonished, cupping my hand around his while stroking the milk-brown fur.
“Satisfied?” Florian asked, his eyes lifting to mine beneath his long lashes.
Sudden and severe dryness filled my mouth. I tried to say in jest, but whispered, “An unkind thing to say to me right now.”
The heat he’d calmed that afternoon rose with a brutality that stole my breath as I briefly lost myself to imaginings of his mouth on mine, his hand fisting my hair, and his imposing form overpowering my weak and needy body...
Florian’s eyes brightened with hunger, his jaw tight as he gritted, “Skies, Tullia.” He dumped the creature into my hand, somehow knowing I would wish to pet it before I released it. “Reel it in, or we’re going to leave before we’ve even arrived.”
Embarrassed and unsure of what to say, I ran a finger down the burshka’s back, then crouched to set the critter free. I watched it go, partly to try to do as the king said and calm myself, but also because I wondered what it felt like.
To have the ability to roam any place you wished.
Then I wondered why the thought of roaming Folkyn, or any realm, without knowing if I’d see Florian ever again unveiled a quiet terror within me.
Rising, I brushed my hands over my gown, wincing when I remembered it was easily soiled.
Florian tipped up my chin, his eyes searching mine.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not. You’re fucking potent,” he clipped, his jaw rotating and his thumb skimming the corner of my lips. He watched them part. “I miss this mouth.”
He’d said it as if truly bothered—bothered that I hadn’t kissed him and bothered that he wished for me to.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have lied to me,” I quipped and gathered my gown to pass him.
His fingers caught mine, twirling me back so fast I had to brace my hands over his chest to steady myself. “And you expect me to believe that if I had not, I would still be kissing you?” His snidely playful tone suggested otherwise. Clasping my chin, he lowered his mouth to mine. “You wouldn’t have done what I needed if you’d known.”
He was right. I wouldn’t have signed that contract. He didn’t need me to tell him that.
Though what else would I have done?
If Florian had admitted to wanting to squash the king who’d sired and hidden me, then would I have found another way to Folkyn? We both knew I would have failed and that, no matter what I tried to tell myself I would have done, there was no escaping Florian after that first meeting in the Lair of Lust.
My future belonged to him. My fate had been sealed the moment I’d first laid eyes on him. Perhaps, warned a quiet voice, even long before then.
These endless walls I kept slamming into—the lack of control over my own life—made that building rage war alongside the sickeningly powerful desire of the heat.
I was almost afraid to discover which one might win as our mixing breath warmed the chilled air of the forest.
My voice was thick. “And now I can never believe a word you say.” Ignoring the desire to kiss him until I drew blood and then slap him, I said with my mouth brushing his, “Nor can I believe for a moment that you suffer from lack of affection when you’ve indulged in others.”
The images Queen Aura had painted of this king were hard to forget, yet also hard to match with the male standing before me. The only exception was the part pertaining to his pleasure seeking with as many willing partners as possible.
He was a king. Virile and tenacious and mouthwatering. He oozed pheromones and power as though they were a second shadow to lure his prey. And not only was I inexperienced in matters of pleasure, but I was also now unwilling to fall victim to all that he was.
I was about to turn away when Florian said roughly, “For feeding only.”
The confession singed.
I stepped back.
Florian studied my features, his expression almost curious. “You’re upset.”
“I’m no such thing.” I glared at the pine needles and rocks blanketing the snow-kissed ground, wishing they’d fly up to smack this deceitful king in his arrogant face. “I suppose I am shocked, but I shouldn’t be.” I began to walk toward the awaiting lights again.
Shocked and stupid.
For a stolen second there, I’d almost believed it might not be so terrible to surrender to the heat rather than the rage. I’d almost believed he’d spoken true when he’d claimed that he wished to have both me and his revenge, and therefore, maybe I could have used it to my advantage by slowly gaining his trust.
But he didn’t want me badly enough. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fed from another.
An irrational way of thinking, certainly. The king needed to consume blood to nourish those magical abilities of his—to keep them as cold and deadly as his heart.
But I didn’t want to be rational. For what upset me the most was that he hadn’t asked me if I would be a willing source.
Though if he had, would I have surrendered that much at least?
Only the goddess would know now.
The forest clearing became visible through the trees. Bonfires rose toward the sky, ice garlands strung throughout the birch trees I neared. The twirling loops of crystal surrounded what looked to be a large valley, joining the fires to give light to the shadows of moving bodies.