Page 42 of The Assassin and the Libertine
Her eyes snapped open and a sultry smile crossed her lips.
“Yes,” she cried. “I need you, Étienne.” She wrapped her legs around my waist and arched her back again.
Thanking God, Lucifer, and the universe itself, I sank into her ready heat on a moan from us both. She felt tight and hot and wet around me, and I ached with the pleasure of it. I moved inside her slowly at first, trying to regain control of my sanity, all the while stroking that tight bud where her climax would peak. Her hands slid down my back, grasping my bottom and pulling me into her deeper, harder. Soon, her cries reached fever-pitch and I felt her orgasm crescendo and break, and she came apart around me. Unable to hold back, I followed her over the edge, letting wave after wave of bliss roll through me.
I collapsed on top of her, our bodies a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs. My fangs were slow to retract—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made love without feeding. Daphne tilted her head to me and smiled shyly.
“I can see why the ladies in court gossip so much about you,” she said. “That was—well, I’ve never had—you know, with a man—and—” She covered her furious blush with her hands.
Daphne, I would pleasure you for every day of my eternity.The thought turned me cold with panic.She is not yours,that dark voice of reason echoed.
I gathered her up and pulled her in to my embrace, kissing her temple.
“I’d prefer they didn’t, you know,” I murmured. “Gossip, I mean.”
She chuckled, and the vibrations from her mirth reverberated through me like a plucked harp string. A phantom ache started to build in my chest.
“It’s scandalous, to be sure, but mostly good. You’re forbidden fruit to them, even once they’ve had a taste,” she said with a yawn.
“Forbidden fruit?” I laughed. “More like a shiny apple that’s rotten at its core.”
Daphne’s eyes drifted closed. She snuggled closer into the crook of my arm and drowsily grunted at me.
“That’s just what you want everyone to think,” she mumbled. “I’m beginning to know better.”
With that, her breathing slowed in the satisfied sleep that always followed intimacies and her muscles relaxed against me. As she slept in my arms, my thoughts took off like a bolting horse. Instinctive protectiveness pulsed through me—something I’d not experienced with a woman in a long time. A sense of sick dread began to take root and I cursed my carelessness. How had I allowed myself to become so attached to this woman? She’d said it herself—ours was a temporary truce. I remembered the loathing on her face the night she'd tried to kill me. Would that hatred return when our investigation concluded and she returned to the arms of The Order? Would she regret thisintimate act later on and feel as though I’d pressed my advantage during a moment of weakness?
On top of all that, she was a pillar of thetonneand a married duchesse. Even with my position at court and the changing populace of Paris, I was still leagues beneath her. She'd be risking everything to be seen with me outside the bedroom. Sadness and doubt bloomed in my chest and refused to be uprooted.
You cannot have her. You don’t deserve her. She is not for you.
I knew the truth of those thoughts. It did me no good to chase after one woman—a man in my position needed more. I needed to feed. I needed more aristocratic allies for my cause. Those were hard to get without the freedoms of bachelorhood.
Obviously, it had just been too long since I’d been with another woman. I needed distance from Daphne.What I feel is not real.At worst, it was some kind of temporary infatuation.
Even as we lay there together, naked and entwined, I felt the thread of vulnerability between us break. I eyed her sleeping form, so beautiful and still, and felt my resentment and frustration reach a crisis point. Things needed to go back to the way they were, but I couldn’t move forward while I felt so bound to her. I needed her out of my arms and out of my bed. I needed her away fromme.
I shifted myself from beneath her, gently but firmly, and she stirred from her sleep. She yawned and stretched, blinking up at me with wide, expectant eyes.
“It is getting late in the day, Duchesse. I need my rest,” I said.
A flash of some imperceptible emotion crossed her face, but she nodded. “Of course. There is much I need to do today, as well.” She paused, perhaps covering the sting of my dismissal.
Guilt surfaced, but I swallowed it. “I believe you’ll be safe for the day, at least. I can’t imagine Henri would endanger you soquickly after the events of last night. If he hasn’t come for you before now, it seems there is some other endgame that he plots.”
“I will be fine, Étienne. I can take care of myself,” she returned stiffly, but I could tell from her manner that she was covering her fear.
“Still, you should not be alone. Perhaps you can call upon a friend, or family member. Maybe stay with the Comte and Comtesse de Brionne for a few days,” I suggested.
“I said I’d be fine,” she bit out, then sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Do you think The Order will believe me when I tell them about him? About Henri, I mean. I don’t know what exactly to tell them, whether he’s some monster or otherworldly spirit, but that he’s back in some form and seems to be connected to all of this,” she said, her brows knitting together.
I scoffed, irritated that she’d seemed to pluck one of my worries from my head.Already she is thinking about The Order again.
“Hardly. They’ll probably accuse you of being hysterical. In fact, I don’t think I’d tell them at all.”
She sat up and the sheet fell away from her breasts. My body responded immediately, but I turned away and rose from the bed.
She stiffened. “I must, Étienne. Do you not wish to have someone attest to your innocence? To try and convince them there is something darker afoot than a rogue vampire?”
