Home > Popular Books > Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1)(49)

Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1)(49)

Author:Ella Fields

That should have shamed me, and it did, though mostly because I felt no shame for my own actions—and because I hadn’t even considered escape until he’d mentioned it.

“Running anywhere in your state would not be wise,” Florian said darkly, as if he could see my thoughts dancing all over my face. He likely could. I was not at all adept at hiding anything. “Though if you’re truly desperate to try, I shall give you a head start.”

A howl struck through the night. The eerie sound did not come from a beast, but from those in the clearing aglow with flickering firelight through the trees.

Florian grinned, the beautiful transformation of his goddess-blessed features anything but inviting. “I do enjoy a good hunt.”

I glowered. “You wouldn’t win anything if you caught me.”

His brow arched. He closed the distance between us with a flaring of his nostrils and his brightening eyes drifting down my body. “If you say so.”

His patience seemed endless—depthless.

Given all he’d planned and was now executing so meticulously, if this tension between us snapped in such a final way, I might as well be giving him the killing blade.

And I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t discovered his true desires for me, if I’d have made my way to his rooms at the first signs of the heat’s arrival, what we might have already done…

His wolfish grin waned, his brows lowering as though he would speak.

Then there was a violent shake of the ferns at my ankles, and I startled, turning and flattening my back to Florian’s chest.

He grunted, his hands falling to my arms. Before his fingers could enclose around them, my heart stopped for a different reason.

I crossed to the ferns as a sniffing nose and beady eyes appeared.

I gathered my gown to crouch low and inspect it. The creature should have scuttled away, but to my surprise and delight, it waddled toward me on legs so tiny, its stout body was covered in dirt when I picked it up.

I brushed some from its smooth fur. Those beady eyes seemed unsure as they glanced at the king behind me.

I trailed a finger over its back. “Is it a peppin?”

“Close,” Florian said. “A burshka.” Carefully, he pointed at the wriggling ears, his fingers skimming mine. “See, the ears are more round, and they’re twice the size of a peppin.”

“Peppins must be tiny indeed.” The creature’s nose twitched as it shied away from the king’s giant hand. “It’s so soft.” I pushed the critter toward him, forgetting how close we were. My arm brushed his stomach. “Touch it.”

As though I were doing something ridiculous, his mouth quirked with his brow. “I’ve seen hundreds of them before, butterfly. Gnawing at carcasses or stealing food from camps and village barns.”

He was as foolish as he was handsome if he thought that would deter me. “But have you ever held one?” The creature’s little claws dug into my hand as I again offered it to the king.

He looked down at it with a slight shake of his head. He might have been itching to arrive at the festival, but he was far from annoyed.

He plucked the burshka from my hand as if it were nothing but the rodent it was. It squeaked like a miniature pig.

“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.

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