Page 37 of The Demon Prince

It didn’t escape her notice that his hands had been shaking when he’d cut her wrist. Nor did it escape her notice that the cut had been so shallow it barely bled.

And that he’d only taken a few drops of her blood. As though he was afraid to hurt her.

ChapterFourteen

He’d never scrub the vision of her like that out of his mind. Silver light touching every part of her body, turning her red hair dark as the blood that drained from her wrist into his goblet.

And oh, she’d been so lovely standing there. Her shift hadn’t hidden her form from his eyes in the slightest. He’d seen the soft curve between her ribs and her hip, where his hand would fit so perfectly. Her soft breasts with those dusky rose tips. She’d been cold. He knew the reaction wasn’t for him and still seeing those stiff peaks made him want to pull her into his lap. Just a taste. That’s all he needed.

Still, she’d given him a taste. He held it in his shaking hand after he’d fled from her like he was terrified of what he would do if he stayed much longer.

He was.

But he’d been terrified for reasons she likely never imagined. Because he had wanted to wrap his hand around those curves at the top of her full hips, to draw her down onto him and let her feel the hard bar of his passion between his legs. He wanted to grind her down onto him, just as he’d done when he’d had her pinned to her bed.

Then he’d thought about how his bed was right behind her. Soft and plush and comfortable enough for him to stretch her out on.

But no. She was here as a deal between him and the rest of her town. Katherine wanted him to feed upon her in trade, nothing more, nothing less. She didn’t see him as a man, but an animal that needed to be appeased.

He rounded a corner to the kitchen. It was the warmest room in the castle when the fires were going, and he didn’t want to feel so cold right now. Besides, he had to heat her blood before he drank it. Cold blood was terrible, and he wanted...

Ah, he could admit it to himself in the dark room, lit only by firelight. He wanted to pretend he was drinking it from her neck. He wanted to close his eyes and dream up a story that she willingly allowed him to latch onto her throat. That he listened to the beat of her heart and the little gasps that he’d only heard that one time, but had somehow branded itself on his mind.

Gluttony realized he was turning more and more into the monster that he feared he already was. Her presence was making everything worse and yet...

He would survive this. He’d be happy with whatever she gave him, even if her blood was in a goblet. She didn’t have to fear what he would do, because he would take the utmost caution with her.

This one would last.

Nothing would happen to his little pet, not while he was here to watch over her.

Gluttony took his time heating her blood, making sure everything was perfect even as he placed the metal goblet into a pot of boiling water. It took a while, but that was all right. He had learned patience in his ancient years. Patience and how to remember to be human.

If he leaned against the counter with spots dancing in his vision, it was only because he was tired. Not because his gaze was locked on that goblet of dark liquid, staring into it like he had lost all sense entirely. He didn’t need the blood. He didn’t have to drink it. It was a compulsion, nothing more. He was the master of his own body and his own mind and...

The moment it was warm enough, he lunged for it. Gluttony had no self control at all, it seemed, because he tilted the goblet and poured the single mouthful of warm blood down this throat.

He tried to savor it. Tried to keep the blood on his tongue and swirl it around in his mouth so there would be the lingering taste for hours. But the moment her taste hit him, it was enough to send him to his knees.

Honey was right. Honey and everything sweet that he’d ever had in his life. He was suddenly a child who had gotten the best candy, so sweet it made the glands in his throat contract, but he wanted more. So much more that soon he would be sticky and coated with it, and still it would never be enough.

Just as he feared, a single taste made him realize what he’d been missing. If she had been a candy jar, he would have eaten and eaten until he threw up and then still he would have eaten more. She was impossible to resist. A single drop of that blood would have sent him into a frenzy and he was so glad he’d come all the way into the depths of the kitchen because it was that much harder to turn around and race back to her room.

He might have, if he had less control over himself. Gluttony had no question that he would have turned upon her if he’d had a sip in that room. If he’d touched his tongue to her wrist like he’d wanted to, and it all would have been over. He’d have drank her dry and mourned her for the rest of his existence.

This wasn’t blood. It was ichor. Dripping in gold and giving him more power than any blood ever had before.

He could feel it. It hit his stomach and traveled throughout his body. Stretching through his arms, through his legs. Making him bigger, stronger, harder than he’d ever been before.

And, oh, the ache in his body was infinitely worse. He couldn’t think past the sudden throb in his cock and the images that flashed through his mind as her taste swirled throughout his mouth.

He remembered the little gasp she’d made when he’d laid upon her in that bed. The fire in her eyes had burned so hot he’d wondered what she would do if he’d let her up. And then she’d tilted, just slightly, just enough for him to settle a little more firmly between those legs and he’d felt her heat through her dress.

His hand skidded down his stomach, struggling with the ties of his pants. He’d rocked against her then, just as he now did into his own palm. The little gasp she’d made had been hot and wet in his ear, and even then he’d known it was the same sound she’d make if he indulged himself with her. If he’d smoothed his hand down her swan-like neck to cup her breasts in his hands.

They weren’t massive, but they would fill his palms nicely.

Gluttony bucked into his palm, breathing hard as he thought about biting those pale globes. He’d leave teeth marks, signs for any man who ever came again. Scars that would never leave her flesh so that everyone and anyone would know she was his. She’d enjoy it, because he’d make it enjoyable. He’d bite her all over her body if he wished, little trickling trails of blood, just as the one that had leaked down her wrist.

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