“Let me see you,” he rasped. “Please.”
I nodded.
He slid the straps from my shoulders. He kissed each new expanse of skin as he peeled back the silk—over my shoulder, my breasts, my hardened nipples, the curve of my waist, my hip, my upper thigh. And finally, he pulled the crumpled silk free and flung it off the bed, gaze already transfixed on me, naked and exposed before him.
It wasn’t cold. Yet goosebumps broke out over my skin.
He let out a rough laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“I just—” His mouth returned to me, lingering at my peaked breasts in a way that made my breath tremble.
“I just don’t have fucking words,” he whispered, as his lips traveled higher, taking a meandering path back to mine. “I don’t have words for you.”
Words were overrated, anyway. I was grateful he didn’t have any, because the ones that jumbled in my chest were confusing and difficult.
“Good,” I whispered, and kissed him.
Our bodies intertwined again. The length of Raihn’s cock against my leg made my thighs inch open. His hands over my body grew more frantic, like he wanted to take in all of it at once.
Mother, I wanted him. I wanted him as open and exposed and vulnerable as he had made me.
A little wordless sound escaped my throat, and Raihn’s lips curled against my mouth.
“What, princess? What do you want?”
A genuine offer. Like he wanted nothing more than to give me what I needed.
Goddess, so many answers to that question.
I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me until I don’t remember my own name. I want to watch you come undone the way you just watched me.
I want you.
But what came out of my mouth was, “I want your blood.”
45
RAIHN
At first, I thought I’d heard her wrong. But no.
I want your blood.
Those words, coming out of those perfect lips. Those perfect lips that had lapped my blood from my thumb weeks ago—those lips that I’d dreamed about ever since, thinking about them with my hand around my own cock with the curtains drawn in the day.
My head was foggy. So much about this last day had felt like a dream. But hell, did I mind all that much, if this was the hallucination I got? Oraya next to me in bed, naked, the light caressing her flawless moonlight-pale skin in a way that made me jealous.
Oraya in bed, naked, asking for my blood.
I could smell her arousal, thick and sweet. Could hear her heartbeat, hard and fast like a rabbit’s.
But even sensing her neediness—neediness that I was desperate to fulfill—I still could have spent an eternity just kissing her. Just making love to that poisonous, perfect, beautiful, dangerous mouth.
I never thought I’d get to kiss Oraya ever again. Now, I couldn’t bring myself to question it. I just wanted to take whatever she’d offer me.
And in exchange, give her anything—everything—she desired.
A faint flush rose to Oraya’s cheeks. I wondered if she knew that she blushed, and easily. I didn’t want to tell her, because I didn’t want her to stop.
“You want my blood,” I repeated.
And still, she didn’t so much as blink as she said, “Yes.”
Sun take me.
Yes, Oraya wanted my blood, alright. She’d wanted it for months. And I was damned lucky that this was how I got to give it to her.
I rolled over and grabbed her dagger from her pile of clothes.
“No poison in this thing, right?” I said.
She shook her head.
Good. That would have been an embarrassing way to go.
I drew the tip along the side of my neck, just hard enough to break the skin with a fleeting stab of pain. Immediately, the warmth of blood bubbled to the surface, trickling down my throat.
I sheathed the dagger and tossed it aside again, turning back to Oraya.
“You have it, princess,” I said. “My blood. As much of it as you want. Yours by right, after all.”
Because I’d already promised it to her, months ago.
I give you my body, my blood, my soul, my heart.
And from the moment her tongue had touched my skin that night, the moment the words left my lips, I knew that I meant them. They were true, even if she didn’t want them to be. Even if she didn’t return it.
I was hers.
Oraya’s stare was hard and steady, those moon-bright eyes spearing me more sharply than any blade. Her throat bobbed. Her gaze lingered on my throat—on the streaks of red-black blood.
The scent of her arousal—her hunger—thickened in the air. My cock twitched in response to it.