Chapter 8 Desire’s Deadly Curse #5
The reminder of our impending departure for Nocthar sent a momentary chill through the warm cocoon of afterglow.
Tomorrow I would leave Vareth behind. Would leave Lysa, leave Isolde, leave everything familiar to enter a kingdom known for its bloodshed and darkness.
The thought should have filled me with dread, yet somehow, lying beside this man who had shown me both ruthless dominance and unexpected tenderness, the prospect seemed less terrifying than it had before.
I settled back against him, my head resting on his chest where I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The sound was hypnotic, lulling me toward a drowsiness that felt foreign after the last few nights of restless anxiety.
Whatever spell he had cast over me, it was powerful enough to calm even the storm of uncertainty about my future.
Yet, even as my eyelids grew heavy, I became aware of something else—the unmistakable feeling of him hardening again against my hip. The evidence of his renewed desire sent a fresh wave of heat curling through me, dispelling the encroaching tendrils of sleep.
Without conscious decision, my hand slid down the plane of his stomach, fingers ghosting over the ridges of muscle until they encountered the growing evidence of his arousal. I wrapped my hand around his length, feeling him twitch in response to my touch.
“I thought you were tired,” Valen observed, though there was no objection in his tone, only a heated interest.
“I find myself curiously revitalized,” I replied, my fingers beginning a slow, deliberate exploration. I traced the length of him, learning the texture of velvet over steel hardness, the slight ridge around the head, the three studs that pierced his skin, the pulse of blood beneath my fingertips.
His breath caught as my thumb circled the sensitive tip, gathering the moisture there to ease my movements as I began to stroke him with more purpose.
Power surged through me at his reaction.
I had always derived a certain satisfaction from bringing men to completion with my touch, but this was different. Deeper. More significant somehow.
I watched his face as I continued my ministrations, my grip soft and lazy.
His eyes had darkened to obsidian, pupils blown wide with desire.
His lips parted slightly, quickened breaths escaping in rhythm with the movements of my hand.
The muscles in his jaw strained as he fought to maintain some semblance of control, the battle evident in the tension of his jaw.
“Greedy woman,” he growled, though the smirk that accompanied the words told me he wasn’t displeased by my initiative.
A smile rose to my lips as I pushed him onto his back, straddling his thighs in a sudden reversal of our earlier positions.
He allowed it, his hands coming to rest on my hips but making no move to reassert control.
The gesture spoke volumes. He was permitting my dominance, not submitting to it.
The distinction was crucial, a reminder that whatever power I wielded was granted rather than taken.
Yet even that limited control was intoxicating.
I hovered above him, my hair falling around us like a curtain of darkness, creating a private world within the already intimate space of our chamber.
My hand still worked between us, guiding him to my entrance, positioning him at the threshold of my body.
“Take what you want,” he instructed, his voice rough with desire but eyes sharp with awareness. Even now, yielding physical control, he maintained mastery of the situation through his commanding tone.
I sank down onto him with the same deliberate slowness he had shown me, savoring the stretch of accommodation, the way my body yielded to his invasion. A sigh escaped me as he filled me completely, the angle allowing him to reach depths that sent sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.
Valen’s hands tightened on my hips, urging me to move, but I resisted the silent command.
This was my moment of control, and I intended to savor it.
I rolled my hips in a languid circle, feeling each piercing within me, his eyes threatening to roll back at the sensation.
I felt inebriated by this power, knowing I could reduce this fearsome man to wordless pleasure with nothing but the movements of my body.
I established a rhythm that was purposefully, torturously slow—rising until only the tip of him remained inside me before sinking back down with excruciating patience.
His fingers dug into my flesh, not quite painful but certainly insistent, silently demanding more speed, more friction, more everything.
“Patience,” I echoed his earlier admonishment, a small smile playing at my lips as I continued my unhurried pace. “There’s no rush, remember?”
A growl rumbled from his chest, his hips thrusting upward in a bid to increase the tempo.
I pressed my palms against his chest, using the leverage to maintain my chosen rhythm.
His eyes narrowed at the challenge, a dangerous spark igniting in their depths that sent a thrill of both fear and excitement through me.
I was playing with fire, teasing a predator, and the risk only heightened my arousal.
I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his chest as I brought my lips close to his ear. “Did you think I would be so easily tamed, Butcher?” I whispered, nipping at his earring with just enough pressure, I knew, skirted the edge of pain.
His response was immediate, his arms wrapping around me, holding me in place as his hips drove upward with newfound intensity. The sudden shift in force tore a gasp from my throat, pleasure sharp and unexpected.
We became locked in a silent battle for dominance, each seeking to wrest control from the other through the language of our bodies.
I matched his increased pace with movements of my own, refusing to surrender completely to his lead.
Our breaths mingled, ragged and heavy in the heated air between us.
Sweat slicked our skin, easing the friction as we moved together with increasing urgency.
The chamber filled with the sounds of our coupling—flesh meeting flesh, the rustle of satin sheets beneath us, the occasional creak of the bed frame protesting our vigor.
The outside world faded to insignificance, all concerns of kingdom and court eclipsed by the immediate, overwhelming reality of our joined bodies.
I was approaching the precipice once more, pleasure building in ever-tightening spirals at my core, when a sound tore through the night—a scream, high and terrified, cutting through the heated haze of our passion like a blade of ice.
I tensed, my movements slowing as the cry reverberated through the stone walls of the palace.
It had come from somewhere not far distant.
Perhaps the corridor outside, or an adjacent chamber.
The sound was unmistakably one of terror rather than pleasure, the kind of scream that emerged only from true fear.
“What was—“ I began, my body stilling above his.
“Shh,” he murmured against my throat, his teeth grazing my skin. “Pay it no mind.”
Another scream echoed, closer this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of running feet in the hall beyond our chamber. My hands, which moments before had been clutching at Valen’s shoulders in passion, now pushed against his chest in urgent protest.
“Wait,” I insisted, turning my head toward the door. “Something’s wrong.”
His response was to capture my face between his hands, forcing my gaze back to his. In the guttering candlelight, his eyes gleamed with an unholy pleasure that should have made me pause. Instead, I felt an answering heat flare in my core, a betrayal of my better instincts.
“Your attention belongs to me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Let the world burn around us. It matters not.”
Before I could argue, he sealed his lips over mine in a kiss that tasted of possession and something darker—something like triumph. His hips drove forward with renewed purpose, each thrust deliberate and precise, hitting places inside me that made rational thought dissolve like salt in water.
I hated myself for responding, even as my body arched to meet him.
The screams continued outside our sanctuary, a terrible counterpoint to the building pleasure within me.
It was obscene to feel such ecstasy, yet I couldn’t stop the wave that was building, couldn’t deny the coiling tension that demanded release.
“Look at me,” Valen commanded as my eyes began to drift toward the door again. “Feel what I do to you. Nothing else matters.”
My gaze locked with his as he drove deeper, harder. His hand slipped between us, fingers finding that perfect spot again, circling it, pinching it. The touch was both reward and punishment, forcing me to acknowledge my body’s betrayal of my conscience.
“That’s it,” he praised as my breathing fractured. “Come for your king, wife. Come while your kingdom falls around you.”
His words should have doused my desire. Instead, they ignited something primal within me, some dark, hidden part that reveled in the forbidden nature of my arousal amidst chaos.
When my release came, it crashed through me, my breath releasing on a moan of pure pleasure.
Valen followed moments later, his own climax marked by a possessive growl against my ear.
For a heartbeat, perhaps two, we remained joined, my pulse pounding in my ears loud enough to momentarily drown out the continuing sounds of distress beyond our private sanctuary. Our shared breath hung between us, intimate and poisonous.
Then another scream, this one close enough to have come from just outside our door, pierced the veil of sensual haze surrounding me. The clarity that followed was swift and merciless. What was happening? How could I have remained here, lost in pleasure, while my people cried out in terror?
I jerked away from Valen, or tried to, but his grip still pinned me to him. His expression held a mixture of satisfaction and cruel amusement that chilled my overheated skin.
“Let me go,” I demanded, pushing at his chest with renewed vigor. “I need to see what’s happening.”
“Do you?” he asked, head tilting slightly as if my concern was a curiosity he found amusing. “And what will you do, wife? Rush naked to the rescue? Play the savior on your wedding night?”
Another cry echoed from beyond the door, followed by a crash of something heavy falling. My heart raced painfully against my ribs as I shoved at him with all my strength, finally removing myself from his grasp.
Valen laughed. A cold, mocking sound that raised the fine hairs on my nape. He made no move to stop me as I snatched a silk robe from where it had been laid out near the bed, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely secure the sash.
More screams, a distant clash of metal as a sickening realization spread through me… This was no accident, no random calamity.
This was an attack.
“What have you done?” I whispered, the question torn from me as I stared at Valen, who remained relaxed and unconcerned among the rumpled sheets.
His smile was a knife’s edge, sharp and dangerous. “Hurry if you hope to save anyone, wife,” he said, the words a mocking caress. “Though I suspect you’ll find your efforts... futile.”
Understanding bloomed like a poison flower in my chest. The small contingent of Nocthari warriors who had arrived with Valen yesterday had seemed too few. Had there been others, sneaking into the castle under cover of the celebration? Had our guards been compromised, drugged, or simply overwhelmed?
I didn’t wait for confirmation. With one last look at Valen, memorizing the image of him lounging amid the destruction of my former life, I turned and fled toward the door.
The heavy wooden panel swung open under my desperate push, revealing a corridor that had transformed from a familiar passage into something from a nightmare.
Torches flickered in their sconces, casting wild shadows that danced like demons across the stone walls.
The air smelled of smoke and iron… blood, I realized with a sick lurch of my stomach.
I stepped fully into the corridor, the cool stone beneath my bare feet a shock after the warmth of the bridal chamber. The silk robe clung to my still-damp skin as I moved cautiously forward, ears straining to locate the source of the sounds of struggle.
A servant woman appeared at the far end of the corridor, her face a mask of terror as she ran toward me. One of mine. Her white apron was spattered with something dark, her cap askew.
“Princess!” she gasped upon seeing me. “Run! They’re killing everyone!”
“Who?” I demanded, reaching for her arm as she tried to rush past. “Who is doing this?”
Her eyes, wide with panic, flickered to the open door of the bridal chamber behind me, to where Valen no doubt still reclined in naked splendor. Horror dawned in her expression.
“The Nocthari,” she whispered. “They were hidden throughout the castle. They rose up during the feast, after you and the Blood King departed. They—“ Her voice broke on a sob. “The king—your father—they’ve taken him.”
The world tilted beneath my feet. My father. Captured or killed by the very people I had married into. And I had been in bed with their king, crying out in pleasure while my people died.
“Go,” I told her, releasing her arm. “Hide yourself if you can.”
She didn’t need to be told twice, disappearing down a servant’s passage with the speed of true terror. I stood alone in the corridor, the distant sounds of fighting echoing against stone walls that had stood for centuries, walls that had never before witnessed such treachery.
I glanced back at the bridal chamber door.
Through the opening, I could see Valen had risen from the bed, his magnificent form silhouetted against the candlelight as he leisurely gathered his clothing.
He caught my gaze and smiled that terrible, knowing smile that confirmed every suspicion blooming in my mind.
This had been his plan all along. The marriage, the peace treaty—all lies. While I had writhed beneath him in shameful pleasure, his men had been slaughtering my people, taking my kingdom by force.
I should have felt rage, hatred, or at least disgust. Instead, a terrible numbness spread through me, followed by a cold, calculating clarity. I needed to survive this night. And then, somehow, I would make Valen pay.