Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (73)

I didn’t hesitate. Not even the blood and horror marring this room could stop me from finally whispering, “I need you, Florian. Now.”

Rather, such gruesome possessiveness had only made me all the more desperate.

The shame of my reaction to his actions faded, taking the guilt and sickness with it. For what he’d done, understanding why he’d done it...

I shivered, and the incessant ache in my core panged and swelled like never before.

Florian noticed, of course, and he cursed.

He plucked me from the floor. My arms and legs curled around his shoulders and waist as he carried me from the drawing room to the stairs. His unhurried steps and protective hold beneath my ass and the back of my neck were telling.

He would have me, and there was no stopping him. No turning back.

Fortunately, I didn’t want to.

I wanted to end this torment once and for all, despite the numerous consequences that would follow—the reasoning I’d clung to for days. None of it seemed to exist now. Nothing existed but him and the press of his body burning through my robe, his scent singeing and melting my limbs as I inhaled deeply at his neck.

A rumbled noise climbed his throat.

I kissed it, laid my lips upon it, the molten heat inside me dancing with impatience. He held me tighter, and as soon as the doors closed to his rooms, warned to my ear, “There will be no running from me now.”

“I don’t want to.”

A dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine.

Strange cracking sounded.

My head rose as I was carried toward the bed to find ice crawling over the doors—sealing them. More crawled over the balcony doors.

“No one but me is allowed to hear your cries, pet.”

Then I was set on my feet, my legs wobbling as Florian ripped open my robe. He groaned and pushed me backward onto the bed. I blinked up at the candles in the chandelier as he ordered, “Open your legs.”

I surmised he was in no mood for teasing.

I did as I was told while he removed his pants, his stare plastered between my thighs. He rubbed his bristle-bordered mouth, cursing roughly. My own dried at the sight of all he was, my eyes unable to decide where to feast first.

I didn’t get the chance to decide.

Muscle clenched everywhere, my legs gripped above the knee when the king climbed onto the bed.

His hold was bruising, but I forgot about the pain when he lifted my core to his mouth and rubbed me over his lips and nose. He groaned, then licked me, and that desperate entity inside me who’d been starving for what felt like eons ruptured at only the fifth languid swipe of his tongue.

I moaned as he hummed against me in approval.

Then he lowered my shaking legs but leaned forward and wrapped them behind him. His cock pressed to my entrance. He gave no other warning, no soft reassurances like those I’d read in books. He was incapable right now. Possibly always.

He eased inside my body in one slow yet determined thrust.

My back arched. My muscles seized.

My body bucked and screamed in refusal.

But Florian captured my hips and held me still, his cock deep inside me as waves of agony spread like fire. Breathless and trapped, I whimpered without sound.

My eyes opened to find the king’s gaze crawling over me with unmistakable delight. “Sweet creature, am I hurting you?”

He knew he was. I still further pleased him by saying, “Yes.”

“Good.” His gaze fell to where we’d joined, pain locking my limbs. “You’re broken now, butterfly,” he said, still staring as he slowly withdrew from my body to the tip. His smile was feral satisfaction. “Your blood marks my cock.”

He pushed back inside me, and a scream scraped my throat.

His neck rolled, muscle cording as a guttural groan trembled his giant frame. Then my hips were released and he was looming above me.

His elbow indented the bed beside my face. His wrist pressed to my cheek as his hand covered my mouth. The other caught my hands and held them above my head. He withdrew again, then entered me in a hard thrust, his hips grinding.

He groaned, loud over the sound of my smothered cries.

His head lowered aside mine, his every low and gritted word heating my ear. “My defiant, daring creature. Look at what you’ve done.”

My thighs quaked as my feet dug into his smooth ass. My body curled up against his in search of both reprieve from the burn of his cock and more friction. He slid out, and though I tensed against the scalding ache, a different heat delivered relief when he sank back inside me.

“Are you proud?” He licked my pulse, teeth nipping. “Does it make you feel good to disrespect and torment me?” He kissed the skin he’d bitten, rumbling, “To rake your tiny claws over my chest and watch me lose my fucking mind?”

My heart clenched. I shook my head, attempting to talk—to tug my hands free—and failed.

“I think it does.” His slow thrusts gained more speed, more bruising power. “What am I to do with you now, Princess? It seems you were created solely to test me.” Another groan. “And to take me.” His teeth pierced my skin with his words. “But only me.”

I bucked against him once more, but the pain receded when he sucked the wounds his canines had given.

Alarm prodded at my hazed mind.

He was feeding from me.

It left as quickly as it came as every ounce of pain began to fall away like water pushed over a cliff.