Chapter Fourteen #2
“You didn’t know that?” I said, pivoting to shoot him a direct gaze.
“I thought you knew everything about me.” It still rankled me that just because he was attractive, I wasn’t put off by the fact that he was essentially a stalker.
I had to face my hypocritical self. It stood to reason; I always found Jane Eyre’s Rochester romantic rather than dangerous.
I just hoped I wasn’t the one to end up in the attic.
“Yes, you should come dine with us sometime,” Hannah said.
I gaped at her. Not even I had the audacity to invite a demon to dinner, and here she was, all diminutive beauty of her, casually asking him over for a roast chicken and potatoes. She caught my eye and smirked.
“I would enjoy that,” he said smoothly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he registered my dismay. I caught my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t end up wringing them, which would just incite both Marcellus and Hannah into more disconcerting-Cora behavior.
“Yes, well, my lord, is there anything I can help with?” I glanced around the room. Guests had started arriving, and the doorway was yielding a steady stream of bodies of all types. “Do you know when the Queen will be here?”
“No idea,” he said, shrugging. It was clear he didn’t view her as a threat, even though he should.
“But you’ve reminded me we need to circulate to make certain everyone is being well cared for.
And so we can see how all the various beings interact with one another—someone is bound to slip up, aren’t they? ”
He held his arm out to me, and I stared at it a minute before taking it. I felt my breath hitch at the contact and cursed myself all over again for having such a visceral reaction to him.
“Excuse us, Hannah,” I said, working hard not to sound breathless. “Try some of the punch—it is excellent.”
She nodded, a knowing smile curling her mouth, and I narrowed my gaze at her, but she just laughed that trilling laugh again and flew off, her wings fluttering behind her.
“That obnoxious duke is over there,” Marcellus said. “We might as well see what he has to say.”
Well, that would dampen any fluttering feelings I might be having.
We made our way over to the duke, who was standing in all his lofty superiority next to the buffet table. Two other men, clearly his underlings, stood beside him, both visibly on alert. The duke’s lips thinned as he saw Marcellus, but he pasted on a smile as we approached.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Marcellus said. “We are so grateful you were able to attend tonight.”
“Good evening,” the duke replied. “My secretaries, Hall and Smith.”
The two men bowed; I didn’t know which was which, but that was fine, since they resembled each other so much.
Both were in their early thirties; both looked harried (likely from working for the duke); both had medium-brown hair and wore nondescript but well-tailored clothing.
They both mumbled something polite, but I couldn’t make it out.
Marcellus gestured to me. “And this is Miss Hastings. She is your government’s ombudsman; she is tasked with taking care of us while we are in London.”
The duke glanced around, his general air of dissatisfaction on full display.
I might never get accustomed to how rankled certain people seemed in general.
How hard was it to be happy, or at least somewhat content, when you had wealth, standing, and most of your teeth?
That was, I hadn’t examined the duke’s teeth, but I assumed he had most of them.
I knew he had the other two things; he had vast wealth as well as the Queen’s ear, and surely that compensated for a molar or two.
“The Queen should arrive within the hour,” he said out of nowhere. But that answered my earlier question, at least.
“Have you discovered any more about the demons flowing in through—Cornwall, was it?” Marcellus asked in a deceptively mild voice.
The duke frowned. “No. You haven’t, either, I presume. Even though they are your people.” He sounded entirely skeptical.
In this, at least, I didn’t blame him; if there were demons in London and demons in Cornwall, one would think that to be connected, given that demons had not been around at all until recently. At least to the government’s knowledge. I’d have to ask Marcellus later.
“I have not,” Marcellus said. “It is my suspicion that some other entity has caused them to flow through the portal, since it was not us who opened it. And you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
The duke bared his teeth, and Marcellus gave him that sharp smile that always made me shudder. And not in a good way.
“Have you discovered who might have sent the letter to the Queen?” Marcellus asked.
The duke’s expression grew even grimmer. “No.”
Marcellus made a noncommittal noise. “Pity.”
“Where is your father?” the duke asked in an abrupt tone.
“He is otherwise engaged,” Marcellus said, waving his hand in the air. “He will greet you when he is free.”
Indeed, I thought. Otherwise engaged with Lily, who might keep him occupied for a while.
I felt my cheeks heat as I thought of it, which of course Marcellus noticed.
“Well, thank you for an interesting conversation, Your Grace. Shall we step outside, Miss Hastings?”
“Uh—certainly,” I said. I didn’t think going outside would get us any closer to discovering—well, anything—but perhaps he had another plan in mind.
He guided me to a set of windows that went from floor to ceiling and pushed the handle on one to open it outward.
We stepped out into the night air, and it was immediately cooler, thank goodness.
The breeze fluttered my gown. We were on a small terrace that ran the length of the room but wasn’t very broad.
He took my hand and moved us out of sight of the windows, then turned to face me.
The moon offered a soft pale light, contrasting with the warm golden glow emanating from the ballroom.
“What—?” I asked, but my words were caught in my throat as he claimed my mouth.
He pushed me against the wall, his hands at my waist, his mouth demanding, pressing. He slipped his leg in between mine, and I instinctively shifted so his thigh was there, right where I wanted him.
I grabbed him, wrapping my arms around his waist, sliding my palms up his back and down to his ass, which I gripped, hard, eliciting a groan from him, deep in his throat.
His tongue was ravaging my mouth, but I was countering as well, sucking and licking him with the pent-up, frantic desire I’d had over the past week.
My lower part ached. I desperately wanted him there, but then again, I wanted him everywhere.
I drew one hand back and thrust it between our bodies, lowering it to where he was hard against me.
I ran my fingers along its length, heedless now of any possible interruption, not caring for the scandal, willing to lose my position if it meant I could have this glorious man.
Well, no, scratch that. I’d prefer not to lose my position, but I just couldn’t stop. Not when he was so desperate, so needy, not when I was the same, when we were practically fused into one, my back ground into the wall behind me because he was pushed against me so thoroughly.
Eventually I gripped him, and he froze, arching his back as he exhaled, breaking away from my mouth for a moment. “Cora, love, don’t stop, don’t—” he said, as I began to stroke his length. I could now answer that, yes, demons (at least this one) were built similarly to humans. Except a bit larger.
My other hand went to his waist, yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers, then slid up under the fabric to caress his skin.
He was hot. So hot, and so hard, and so muscular, and my fingers wanted to explore every single plane of him, wanted to follow that exploration with my lips and my tongue, wanted to drive him to madness as he had driven me before.
“Why now?” I murmured, pressing my mouth against his neck. He’d worn a cravat tonight, but there was still a swath of skin exposed. “We haven’t since—”
“Since I made you come in the carriage with my fingers,” he said in a husky voice. “Do you know I’ve been reliving that every single night since? I’ve been pleasuring myself to the memory, Cora. I hope you have too.”
I had. I’d taken Lily’s advice—and purchased some of the items she’d suggested—and had several intense moments alone in bed, though they hadn’t quite compared to the real thing. But still.
“Why now?” I pressed. “You haven’t seemed to want to—?”
He uttered a rueful chuckle. “Oh, I wanted to. But I knew if I started again, I wouldn’t stop.
But tonight, with you in that gown and with me unable to think of anything else—I knew I had to do something, or I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
And I have to keep him safe, even though all I want is to fuck you, Cora. ”
I gasped at his crude words. And also thrilled at them. I liked hearing him talk so vulgarly. I ached to hear him tell me everything he wanted to do to me. To have him tell me what he wanted me to do to him.
I wanted.
“Well, that isn’t very practical this evening,” I said in as reasonable a tone as I could manage, what with the all-consuming lust and such.
He laughed, a full-throated laugh that made me smile.
“But we can do more,” he said, his words a threat and a promise, as he suddenly swooped down to the ground and ducked under the skirts of my gown.
I yelped, then put a hand to my mouth to silence myself.
He grasped the back of my thighs, then pressed his mouth to my skin, moving his lips up until he reached there. I was holding my breath, and I gasped as he blew air onto my quim.
Dear lord—no, wait, dear demon—was he going to…?
Oh, yes, he was.
He took a long, slow lick from the bottom to the top, and my legs quivered. I braced my hands on the wall to keep myself upright.