Page 85 of Princess Redeemed
He removes his hands from my head, and though I whimper slightly at the loss, I groan again when he rubs body wash between his palms and clamps them over my shoulders.He kneads down my arms, across my chest—not even stopping to tweak my hard nipples—down to my stomach before falling to his knees to wash my legs.
He’s tender as he cleanses me, and only then do I realize the muscle aches throughout my body.Rogan’s touch is a soothing balm.
A part of me wants to surrender to the weariness, to just let my body relax after so much tension.But there’s a battle raging inside me, one that doesn’t allow me to let my guard down.
Not yet.
Our child is in danger, and I can’t dismiss Alara’s warnings.I must be alert, sharp, prepared.
“Come here, Hannah,” Rogan murmurs against my skin as he gently lifts me into his arms.He holds me close beneath the warm cascade of water.
If only the shower could wash away my worries.
I lean into him, resting my head against his chest as he continues to gently knead his fingers into my muscles.Despite my mental turmoil, my tension slowly dissolves into the steamy air around us.
His cock is hard again, but he doesn’t fuck me.
Only holds me as the water soothes us.
A few timeless moments later, he kisses the top of my head, sets me down, and washes himself.As much as I’d like to do it for him, I’m too damned tired.
Once he’s clean, he turns off the water, leaves the shower, grabs a towel, and gently dries me.
I smooth my finger over his cut.“Does it hurt?”
“No.Not as long as I’m with you.”
Once we’re both dry, I lead him to my bed, where we lie down in each other’s arms and succumb to much-needed sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll resume our battle.
But tonight, we’ll justbe.
53
I awake entangledin Rogan’s arms.
The blood lust hits me with a vengeance.
Our bodies are intertwined like two serpents wrestling.How easy it would be to slide on top of him, impale myself on his morning wood.But the hunger, the insatiable thirst gnawing at me, demands to be fed.
“Are you okay?”Rogan’s voice is sleepy.
“Fine,” I manage to croak out, struggling against the raw yearning strumming through my veins.The smell of him, warm and comforting, tempts me with a sweet promise of satiation.
My fangs snap down, and a vibrating growl curls out of my throat.
“Take what you need,” he growls.
I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his neck, opening his carotid and letting his red gold flow over my tongue and down my throat.I’ve grown so accustomed to his dark nectar that nothing else tastes as good to me.Though my nutritional needs can be sated by any human or animal blood, only Rogan’s flows through me and strengthens me, fills me with a vitality that is both intoxicating and invigorating.His blood is my ambrosia, my heavenly syrup, and it nourishes not only me but our child inside my body.Yes, Alara said the child has no need of blood, but anything that strengthens me, makes me a better host for my baby, is a net gain for him.
I drink deeply, the rich taste of his life force hitting my palate like the finest of wines.I feel his strength pulsing through me, his life entwined with mine in a way that transcends more than mere survival.It’s an intimate sharing of ourselves, of our beings, a merging on a level so profound it’s almost spiritual.
Even though it’s not.
He’s not my soul mate.I need to remember that.
He gasps softly and digs his fingers into my hair, and I know he feels it too—the throbbing connection, binding us together in a web spun from love and necessity if not fate.His heart pounds under my touch.
