Page 18 of Thorns from the Fall

My clit is so sensitive as it drags across damp fabric, his impossibly hard cock a persistent pressure beneath me as I move. With each grind over his body, the fabric opening parts, and when I feel his skin against mine, I nearly implode. It’s torturous. Not quite enough, but it doesn’t make it any less erotic. The temptation, the heat, the hatred—all of it is too much.

“You must be aching,” I say, feeling him twitch beneath me. His skin is so soft and warm, and my wetness coats him. “So ready to come all over yourself for the woman you hate.”

I surge forward, sinking my teeth into his neck. Drinking from him, I’m unable to contain the moan as his blood hits the back of my throat. My hips buck without rhythm, my bodysearching for heat and friction and any kind of certainty I can find with Roman. At least I know he’s just as fucked up as I am.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and suddenly he’s shuddering, hands clenching and opening against my hips. A choked sound escapes him as warmth spreads beneath me. It glazes my thighs, and I’m sticky with him.Coveredwith him.

It makes me feel like I’m his.

I’m panting—hot and heavy—between pulls of his blood from his neck. He’s reaching for me, thumb grazing low beneath my navel, but he’s too late. High-pitched, my cry is muffled against his skin as I tip over the edge. I try to catch my breath and his blood dribbles down my chin.

Laughter bubbles up my throat, and I do my best to tamp it down. It’s some sort of giddy euphoria or reckless abandon, and it takes every bit of control I can muster to silence myself. Somehow, I manage, but I have to bite on the inside of my cheek to fully suppress the smile.

Because when I finally find the courage to sit up, I know nothing will have changed.

“You’ve made a mess of us,” I say against his neck. His blood has painted my mouth, and I’m tempted to leave a crimson kiss on his skin. Roman’s hand slides up the back of my neck, wrapping around it. He hauls me up, and I’m startled when I don’t find the emptiness I expected. There are crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his fingers drum a beat on my thighs.

“You’re going to want to answer that, cockroach,” he says, head tilted to the side. With his words, I realize my phone is vibrating. I don’t know where it is—until I remember all my senses are different. The vibration is loud enough now, with my attuned senses, that I can hear it from the bathroom where I’d left it. I glance at Roman, frowning, when he flashes me a razor-edged smile. “It’s probably important.”

My eyes bulge as I clamber off of him. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I know it’s not good. Without a second glance, I sprint for the bedroom, Zuul hot on my heels.

8

ROMAN

I’m packingthis away to never think about again.

My phone’s vibrating, and I have to stand to fish it out of my pocket. My jeans are hanging low, far beneath my hips, and I grunt as I pull them up over cum-soaked underwear. I catch her scent on my clothing, and I’m immediately hard again.

Motherfucker.

This is just as much her fault as it is mine. Gwyn suggested that I drink her blood, and she knows what it’s like between us when that happens. I can’t blame the Ascension anymore; at this point, it’s bordering on obsession. For a moment, I can’t remember why I even started drinking from her in the first place. But without being aware of it, my hand has drifted up to my chest, and I rub at my sternum. There’s an absence of pain I haven’t felt in days.

Gwyn’s idea worked.

It gnaws and soothes at the same time. I should be thrilled, considering I never wanted to be sworn to Emile in the first place. But I can’t find any enthusiasm. His demand isn’t turning my organs inside out anymore, yet I’m beholden to her fucking blood to keep it that way. But now at least I have a logical reason behind why I was able to defy my uncle’s order a few daysago and escape the dungeon. It wasn’t determination or love or whatever other stupid shit Margot was whispering to Nico the other night. It was Gwyn’s hunter blood doing what it was meant to do. That’s all.

Thinking about what I’d done for her is just what I need to be able to deflate my mutinous dick so I can zip my fucking pants. My phone vibrates again, and I expect it’s a message I’ve been biding my time for.

Margot

The cardinal is in hand.

I repeat, the cardinal is in hand.

I roll my eyes.

Roman

Cardinal because of her red hair?

Margot

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Birds don’t have hair.

I choose to ignore her. There’s no reason to speak in code.

Roman

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