Page 35 of Thief of Souls
“Where’s my pragmatic wench now?” he croons.
Currently feeling a little overwhelmed.
But he does speak the truth.
I have a horn to steal, a betrayal to plan, and a prince to escape.
I give into the pressure of his hand and allow him to draw my head forward. The first brush of his wrist against my lips sends a shock of lightning through me, but it’s the wetness of his blood spreading over them that makes me shiver.
It tastes like copper and iron. It’s not unpleasant, but the second his blood hits my stomach, heat spears through me. Weariness sloughs off me and my wound tingles as if the magic in his blood has found a weakness and targets it.
It feels like starshine in my blood. Like heat and warmth, and a tingling sensation that lights through meeverywhere.
I fall back against the wall, gasping. I think I just had an orgasm. If the fae knew his blood had the ability to do this to them, they’d be bottling it.
“Better?” The knowing look in his eyes makes me slap his shoulder with the heel of my palm.
I stare at him.
There’s a promise in his eyes. One that says he can take me away from here—from all of this. One that will protect me at all costs. One that says there’s a court of dreams out there, with a gorgeous sun-kissed palace filled with servants to tend my every need, and beds draped in silken sheets. I can almost hear the sound of waves dashing against the sandy beaches below that palace. The taste of dates explodes in my mouth as if I just bit into one, and the caress of fingertips skates up my hips.
If I close my eyes, I’m right there.
Feeling those dangerous lips chase their way up the slope of my neck, the graze of teeth threatening to dig deep into the muscle at the base of my shoulder—
This is his most dangerous aspect.
He gets inside your head.
He gets insidemyhead and conjures a dream of a new life, where I never need worry about my father again.
If only I could promise him my heart, my body, and my soul.
For one breathless moment, we stare at each other, and I’m surprised at how much I want that lie.
Because it is a lie for someone like me.
My heart is a fist of stone within my chest. My body a weapon I use at will. And my soul? If I owned it myself, I would never, ever let another dare take it from me.
“Better,” I rasp, swinging my legs off the vanity and letting my boots hit the floor.
He doesn’t back away.
I’m left pressed flush against his body, curling my fingers into fists before I can touch him. It’s like his blood now calls to me. A little shiver of that post-orgasmic bliss steals through me. I want his hands on my skin. I want that connection.
Damn it.
“I need to wash,” I growl out, because I desperately need him out of this room.
Keir finally gives me space, sidestepping toward the oils sitting on the vanity. “So what next? Since Belladonna and Anissa are clearly not responsible for your sister’s disappearance.”
“They’re involved in something,” I correct.
Belladonna’s a royal princess, and the lady of the Dawn Court may—or may not—be involved with Belladonna’s cousin, according to gossip. And what had she meant about those letters?
Why would she be searching Soraya’s room for them?
“But not your sister’s disappearance,” he points out.
