Page 64 of A Promise of Blood & Thorns
Their groans growl through the night. My jagged breaths turn to shaking screams. Rorrick controls my hips, thrusting me down on his friend harder and harder until my head throws back, and I can barely see the predator in the shadows.
But I feel him. I feel his hypnotic voice crawl across my skin as my orgasm wrecks through every inch of my body.
“You’re ours now, Pretty Pet. And I’m never letting anyone else have a single drop of you ever again.”
THIRTY
Christian
I watchher in the darkness long after I’ve walked away. I lurk in the shadows like the monster my father created. I used to lash out at everyone around me just for an ounce of his brutal attention. I wanted his praise so bad, it physically hurt my chest where any semblance of a soul should be. I don’t want shit from him now. I didn’t think I wanted anything from anyone anymore.
Until . . .
Rorrick straightens her dress for her while Seven sensually licks closed the puncture wounds that are scattered across every curve of her body. Blood stains her gown in flicking droplets that every vampire here tonight will immediately notice.
He kneels between her thighs now. The delicate way she holds onto Rorrick’s arm for support curls a twisting pain through my stomach.
She’s strong for a human. But weak for a vampire’s Promise.
My father will ruin her. He’ll drain the fight from her pretty green eyes little by little. And in the end, she’ll be no more thana walking corpse—one I’ll have to look at for decades and know that I did this to her.
“Where is she?! Where is my Promise! Did you take her, Thorn?” His voice is far off in the distance, but I hear him. The slurring agitation in my father’s tone is like a child preparing to throw himself down on the floor and make everyone pay in the most annoying way possible.
I tilt my head, and a crack eases the tension from my neck. I take my time doing the other side.
And then I run. An owl overhead calls out from the burst of speed as I fly by in a shadowy blur. Branches jar into my chest and break away against the sheer motion of my body. I can’t even feel my legs. Sometimes, I can’t feel anything at all.
But I can feel the growing tension between my father and the Thorn King. I burst into pieces, flying out on hundreds of wings and beady eyes that sense the night more than they see it. The cries of the bats that carry me home are a calming sound.
More calming than the man I meet when my feet touch casually back down on the ground. I straighten the black lapels of my suit jacket and finally address him.
“Her dress tore, Father. She’ll be back to the party soon.” I take the golden goblet from his big hand, but he tears it away from me and downs it in one gulp, leaving red lines running down the fatty tissue of his thick neck. “I see the fae brought refreshments.” I inhale deeply, and a sugary scent fills my lungs.
“My sister makes the finest sweet ale in all the dark lands. I brought three barrels in honor of our treaty among centuries-old friends,” The Fae King says with a lazy smile.
The smile that’s plastered on my face for Thorn doesn’t waver. Despite how much I want to break his fucking face right now.
I’ve never seen my father drunk in my entire life. I don’t even know what being drunk feels like. Mortal drugs and wines only give us mere minutes of relief from our ever-constant mind.
Whatever is in sweet ale, it’s powerfully intoxicating. The Fae King is definitely plotting something.
“Have a glass, Prince.” The Fae King’s friend, the one with the dark watchful eyes, hands me a glass, appearing as if from thin air.
Rule number one of being friends with fae: never take a gift.
Rule number two: never refuse a gift either.
“Thank you.” The smile I offer is bitter against my lips. I hold the goblet loosely in my hand, and their attention on me feels heavy.
Waiting.
“Should we make a toast?”
The king’s dark eyebrows lift high as amusement widens his perfect smile.
“I had no idea the Blood Prince of the Burning Kingdom was so festive.”
I smile back at him through tight lips for that fucking name he just tagged our kingdom with. His friend laughs as he claps his king on the back. The energy lifts, but just beneath our false smiles and pretty words, there’s centuries-old conflict that’s dying to be released.
