Page 49 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“You’re blaming my absence for your inability to keep your hands to yourself? Oh, Roseheart, that is pitiful.”
Inability to keep my hands to myself? My fingers move to the front of his trousers, gripping his hard length. Harrow hisses. The sound is a chilling reminder of how far from human he really is.
“Please,” I beg again. I beg because I do need Harrow. I need him so badly I may cease to exist if I don’t have him, fully, right here, right now. My fingers are shaky as I fumble with his pants. The action frees something in him and he follows my lead, pulling his fingers from me as we tear at each other’s clothes.Sheer desperation guides our movements. His actions reaffirm that he’s wanted me as badly as I’ve wanted him.
My fingers ache as I claw at his breastplate. Why couldn’t he have arrived in casual clothes? I have no fucking clue how to get him out of his armor. He helps me, unclasping several areas until the shiny black pieces fall free. His pants are next. My pussy clenches at the sight of his cock springing free. The stiff length is long and utterly perfect. I was worried it may always look more like a monster. I do want to see him in his monster form. Human sex comes first. Right now, it’s fully human, if not overly large. His mouth descends on mine.
“I never want to taste another man on your lips again.”
“Just other women then?” I tease, somehow finding humor in the midst of a passion so hot I have to laugh or risk burning to a cinder.
Harrow growls, nipping at my bottom lip. “These aremylips. No one touches you. No one tastes you.” His fingers push back inside me. My back arches, the decorative wood carvings on my bedpost digging into my spine. “No one fucks you but me.”
Our next kiss is long and rough with teeth gnashing at each other’s lips. He crouches low, his mouth making a meal of every inch of my skin from my ankles up to my hips and everything in between. I can’t help squirming as he explores me. Those smooth firm lips leave me branded and tingling. His path leads up again, teeth grazing along my stomach, each breast, onto my neck.
I’m so lost in the heady sensations that for a few moments I fail to notice that Harrow has stopped kissing me. When I open my eyes, he’s pulled back. His gaze fixated on my neck.
Oh shit. I throw my hands over the scar. Harrow catches my fingers, easily prying them away.
The cool, sparkling silver in his eyes hardens into something dark and metallic. “Who is responsible for this?” The words are gravel. “Who?”
“Just leave it. I’ll cover it back up.” My voice is panicked.
“Who did this to you?” The words are so forceful, so menacing that I flinch. Tears prick at my eyes. I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t bear to tell the story. Harrow reads my every emotion. His face softens, but his voice remains hard as he slides a hand to my right temple. “Show me.”
A sound like a thunderclap booms through my mind. Visions of my time in captivity come in flashes, so quickly I can’t grasp a single moment before the next one snaps into place. Over and over, a carousel of the worst days of my life moves through my thoughts. The final image settles on the three faces that haunt my dreams, the ones I’ll never forget. There’s fear and anger in their eyes as they make their decision. One raises the blade, cutting it across my neck?—
Harrow pulls his hand back. I cough, choking through my tears as emotion floods my senses. He steps away, eyes flicking to the scar once more. Then he’s gone.
Chapter 18
Lenore
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so small. Naked, vulnerable, scars bared, and what does Harrow do? He leaves. I’m sure he has his reasons. Reasons I don’t want to think about. None of it makes me feel any better as I dig for a new set of pajamas. It’s humiliating to sneak around my own room. I try my best not to wake the injured prince still asleep on my floor.
Things are going to be very awkward when he wakes up. I’m not in the mood to deal with it. Figuring out how I can get him out of my room before he regains consciousness is my next task. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, I summon Gestin.
The solemn captain of the guard takes one look at the slumped-over prince and dismisses the other guards to wait in the hallway. His dark eyes narrow. “Care to explain what happened, Princess?”
My cheeks flare with heat. “I heard a disturbance and went to check on Cassius. He was stumbling around, saying something about his vision being blurry. I guided him into my room to call for assistance, but he collapsed against the wall before I could help him sit.” I practiced this story in my mind at least a dozen times in the few minutes it took for Gestin to arrive.
He nods to the large body-sized indent in my wall. “And that?”
I follow his gaze. “He fell.”
Gestin huffs. I can see him weighing his options. Deciding whether or not to push the subject further. He gives me one last wary look before commanding two guards from the hallway outside to carry Prince Cassius out and summon a healer.
Guilts swims in my stomach as the guards leave with Cassius in tow. Gestin turns over his shoulder as he closes the door. “Be careful, Princess. I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
My brief glimpse into the hall shows that Gestin has doubled the number of guards that usually stand stationed outside my room. He definitely suspects something. Of course he does. My story was flimsy at best.
Sighing, I drop into an armchair by the fire. My ass has barely hit the cushion when the fireplace extinguishes. My room is plunged into darkness. When the fires reignite, Harrow is standing before me. I’m up on my feet and moving toward him. I haven’t decided if I want to embrace him or slap him.
I stop so abruptly I get rug burn on my toes.
Harrow is covered in blood.
The veil of darkness fades from his fully black eyes until his shimmering silver irises are back. “We need to talk.”
