Rage

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

W ith the adrenaline of battle wearing off, Batya felt all the heavy, lingering aches in her muscles. The blood caked to her skin didn’t help. She looked forward to having a long hot shower and wearing fewer clothes.

As she approached her room, Khyron stopped her.

“Castille wants to meet with you.”

She looked down on her stained clothing.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Batya trailed behind Khyron and was surprised when he stopped at Castille’s room instead of a meeting area. Her heart hammered. Khyron knocked and the door slid open.

“Go in.”

He was shirtless. Batya’s eyes flicked from his muscular chest to the waistband of his pants. She wondered what she’d done to warrant this kind of meeting.

“Batya the Bloody.”

It sounded so alluring when it rolled of Castille’s tongue coated in his rich baritone.

“Sir?”

He wiped the blood from his face with a moist recyclable cloth. When he turned his attention to his chest, Batya struggled not to follow the long swipes past his brown nipples and down his abs.

“You did well today.”

“Thank you.”

Castille tossed the cloth in the bin and grabbed another. He sauntered over to her with the cloth in his grasp. Batya’s breath caught when he held the back of her neck and cleaned the blood from her face. He lingered on her plump lips.

“Stale blood is the worst, isn’t it?”

She swallowed.

“I’m not normally the one covered in it.”

“Yes, I loved reading that about you. I longed to know if you’d be like me.”

He plucked another cloth from its container. This time he paid attention to the blood staining her neck. Batya sighed when Castille’s fingers lingered at the zipper of her uniform.

She recalled the strength of those same hands when he’d choked the rebel, then plunged the knife into his neck. Batya wondered if Castille’s lips would still taste like blood.

“Blood. This part of your uniform is soaked with it. May I?”

Batya nodded.

Was he testing her? How far would she let him go?

Castille pulled the zipper down to the centre of her burgeoning breasts. As his fingers brushed against her exposed skin, Batya wasn’t interested in stopping him. For the first time, she’d met someone who was stimulating more than just her body.

Unable to think of a better way to broach the topic, she blurted, “Why did you drink his blood?”

He chuckled while discarding another cloth.

“When I was recruited, I told the powers that be that I’d slaughter our enemies and drink their blood. They thought I was kidding, but I’d always been curious.”

“About the taste of blood?”

“You aren’t?”

Batya cast her gaze to the floor. Castille cupped her chin and gently lifted her face until their eyes met.

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

He slipped one of her bone-handled knives from its sheath. Batya watched him run his finger over the intricate design. Her mouth fell open when he pressed the sharp tip into his thumb. A drop of blood sprang from him.

Batya’s eyes fluttered closed when his thumb dipped into her mouth. She ran the tip of her tongue along the pad of his thumb tentatively. As the salty-sweet liquid coated her taste buds, she salivated.

She opened her eyes and the muscles in her core clenched when she saw how intensely he looked at her. Keeping her eyes on him, she drew his thumb further into her mouth. He sucked in a breath.

“Shit.”

Batya grinned, releasing his thumb. This is what she’d been missing.

“I want more.”

“Come back tomorrow. Same time.”

He returned her knife to its sheath.

“Bring these with you.”

“Okay.”

Castille pinched the centre of her uniform’s zipper with one hand and then, pulled her zipper up with the other. Her hard nipples ached, longing for his calloused fingers. But she’d wait. What was another day when she’d been waiting all her life?