Page 20 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“What makes you think I’m leaving?”
“I can feel it. The same way I can feel when you’ve arrived, when you’re watching me. I wasn’t sure at first, but now… I’m certain that’s what it is.”
My pulse picks up. She’s different. I’ve always known it. Does that mean things could be different for us? End differently? “Mortals aren’t meant to perceive the dead.”
Toying with her fingernails, she whispers, “Is that what you are, dead?”
“Not dead.Death.”
“Hmm.” She clears her throat. “Death doesn’t frighten me anymore.”
Another curious thing to say. What secrets hide inside my raven? “Then you would not be frightened by the Prince of Death?”
“The Prince of Death?”
“Yes. Prince of Death, Ruler of the Underworld.”
She’s quiet. An anxious wave rolls over me. I shouldn’t have told her. Now she’ll run, hide?—
“If I keep my eyes closed, will you let me touch your wings?”
My wings shift. “I’m afraid I cannot trust that. It will be too tempting for you to peek.”
“Here.” She rips a lacy bow off the upper edge of her green skirt. The lower half of the gown is stained reddish brown from dragging in the dirt. Not very princess-like. In fact, there are very few things about Lenore that would be considered “princess-like”. She lays the ribbon over her eyes, gently tying it behind her head. I imagine the feel of my hands over her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering against my palms. Or better still, my shadows, wrapped tightly around her. Not just her eyes, but her wrists, ankles, mouth.
I’d very much enjoy the sight of her suspended in my shadowy web, high above my castle. I’d lick between her legs until her cum poured down, splashing across the verdant crystals like the euphoric rain of life. Then I’d fuck her, hard, long, wicked, punishing thrusts while the damned wailed beneath us.
Fucking hell. Where did that come from?
My cock strains beneath the obsidian armor.Yes, that sounds like divinity embodied. My mouth waters, alreadyimagining the taste of her. I’ve stared at her waist, imagining the size of her hips and thighs. The absurd fabrics shield her shape from me. When she’s in my kingdom, she’ll wear nothing but ribbons of silk and shadow, displaying her skin freely to my devouring gaze.I need her.Need to see her on my throne, legs over my shoulders, my face deep in?—
“Harrow?” I’m pulled from my daydream by the sight of Lenore in front of me, eyes covered, arms outstretched. “I promise I can’t see.”
Her small hands hover before me. The scent of blood hits my senses. Tracking the source, my eyes drop to her fingers. Her nails are torn and raw. I have the urge to pull them into my mouth, sucking each digit between my lips, licking her wounds until they’re clean.
Lenore takes another step toward me. She’s so close I can scent her. Alluring and dangerous, like a poisonous flower. Do I dare let someone, a mortal at that, touch my wings?
Her arms start to drop while I mull things over. Fuck it. I’m reckless these days. It’s liberating. Such responsibility crushes me day after day.What’s the worst that can happen if I give in? It’s only a touch.I turn, giving her my back. When she doesn’t move closer, I stretch my wings just enough to nudge her open palms.
She gasps. Her hands press flat against my wings. My whole body goes taut. The sensation rests somewhere between sheer terror and utter joy. One hand moves, gliding up and around my wing in a long, arcing motion. The steady stroke of her fingers has my back bending into the touch. She runs the tips over each feather, strumming me like the strings of a harp. The music it creates manifests as a moan that falls unbidden from my open mouth.
Lenore freezes at the sound. I expect her to back away, but instead, she repeats the motion, starting near my shoulderblade, arcing high and sliding her palm down almost to my wing tip. I moan again, hips shifting forward slightly. The sensation is disturbingly pleasurable.
Her fingertips are light as they explore the tops, tips, and edges of each feather. My muscles ripple beneath, purring in response to so intimate a touch. Only one other has touched my wings, and their cruel mark remains on my body and upon my soul.
My back arches in pleasure as Lenore runs both palms against the spots where my wings connect to my shoulder blades. A string of soft, sensuous sounds pours steadily from my parted lips. Her touch is all over me and suddenly I think I’ll cease existing if I don’t turn around and touch her right back.
Tucking my wings in, I spin to face her. She squeaks in surprise at the abrupt action. My hands reach behind her, one dipping into the small of her back, the other threading into her wild onyx hair. Her breaths turn quick, matching my own. The frilly scrap of fabric masks those glassy blue eyes from me. She can’t see the way I’m staring. The way my eyes are fixed on the curve of her lips.
I pull her closer, lowering the hand in her hair to tilt her chin up. Lenore’s arms wrap around my waist, and my wings unfold, spreading wide in anticipation of her touch. That sweet, forbidden floral scent washes over me, hypnotizing my mind and heightening my senses. Her fingers are greedy with their exploration of my wings. I’ve never felt so alive.
Her lips beckon me forward, parting further. Sheer want riddles her delicate features. It mirrors my own desire. I dip lower, breathing her in, consuming the air around her, losing myself to her poisoned essence. Dark and light dance hand and hand within my little raven. I want to devour both sides, fuse them until she’s the shining star and the pitch-black night, buried beneath my skin, swimming in my veins?—
Lenore’s hands skim my lower back and I go rigid. Her movements slow as she discovers the twin lines of raised ragged flesh. She slides a single finger across one and gasps at the realization of what it is. With her touch upon that scarred skin, my darkest moments slam through my mind, shattering the chamber where I keep them so carefully locked away.
Pain, screaming, laughter. Searing, scorching heat enveloping me as I lose a part of myself that I’ll never recover from. Darkness overtaking my vision as the sharp agony steals my poise, leaving me a slobbering, soul-stricken heap of blood and feathers. A ruler brought to his knees by two unforgettable slices. All my power, worthless in that moment. The flapping of my upper wings as they lament the loss, struggling to find balance among my now-bare lower back. Two wings mourning their other halves as they’re dragged away. Tragic is too simple a word for that level of devastation. The Prince of Death should not cry. But I sobbed that day, tears enough to flood the mortal world and wash away all traces of humanity. Such profound loss. Utter, unforgettable loss.
My wings snap closed. I move out of Lenore’s reach so quickly that she stumbles forward. Without another thought, I shoot skyward, leaving my little raven, hands outstretched.
