43. Chapter 43
Chapter 43
I mani despised another person witnessing the intimacy of her feeding. His earlier words still stung. He had said she was nothing , and she certainly felt that way now.
Tears filled her eyes as anger tore through her insides, causing a sob to build in her throat. Imani couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except let a few tears fall down her cheeks while standing in her nightgown and messy hair. Probably looking precisely like the elf whore they all considered her.
After a few seconds, she forced her composure because Imani had few options now. She could run away and face his wrath, and probably be killed for disobeying the binding. Or Imani could fight Kiran instead of feeding from him. But already weak and defeated, she didn’t like her chances.
So, what choice did she have? None. Absolutely none.
Knives cut her every breath as she hardened her resolve, fortifying herself behind an impenetrable wall as she decided she wanted to live. If Kiran wanted them to feed from each other, she’d at least get something out of it. The best way to fight pain was with more pain, and she had much to ease at the moment.
A soft hand ran up and down her spine as Kiran pulled her closer. He was hard against her belly, and a sick part of her liked knowing he was as attracted to her as she was to him, even though they didn’t actually like each other.
Imani thought she might pass out when Kiran pressed his lips against her throat, kissing the pulse racing there before his tongue traced against it.
He gripped her neck tighter, pulling her closer. When he spoke, his voice was more menacing and crueler than ever. “Are you done with your pity party? Because I’ll only repeat this once, elf witch. I control you now. Understood? Mind and body. You are now my little pet. So, start behaving, or I may decide you’re never waking up from this nightmare.”
As fast as he’d grabbed her, he let go, and she stumbled backward without his arms to support her. He glared at her with an unreadable look. Contempt? Desire? Both?
A rush of frustration hit her. Why did he have to be so unreadable?
She tried one more act of defiance.
Imani pointed her wand at the nymph witch. “Make her wait outside. I don’t want anyone here.”
“None of this tonight.” Kiran wrapped his arms firmly around Imani’s waist as she lunged to cast a spell at Master Heirwyn.
Imani groaned, struggling, but he held her tight against him as more of her braid came loose, strands falling over her eyes and forehead. Finally, she stilled.
“Let go of me,” she said, her voice flat.
He did, turning her around. They both glared at each other.
“I absolutely adore these territorial displays from you,” he murmured.
Imani opened her mouth to protest how it was absolutely not that . Well, it wasn’t entirely that. Something about someone watching her feeding partner did make her territorial.
But Kiran’s hands moved up to her face, silencing her. Lightly holding her cheeks, a dark, malicious expression shone on his face as his forehead dropped to hers. “I need you to behave tonight, darling. This will be over soon.”
They were both free of glamour in his rooms, so Kiran’s soul draw pulled on Imani. Or did it? The beast in his eyes stirred a strange base desire inside her, natural and unnatural in equal measure.
A wrinkle appeared between his eyes, and his breathing picked up; otherwise, he was strangely quiet. Hair fell across his forehead. Imani wanted to push it back and feel the silky strands between her fingers again.
He drove her mad with confusing emotions. Not to mention he was lying when he said he didn’t want to have sex with her—she was absolutely sure he did.
She wanted power over the handsome, cruel prince, even if it was superficial.
Staring him dead in the face, she pierced the prince with a sultry gaze as her soul draw locked onto him. “Let’s get this over with then.” She let her robe pool at her feet and lifted her nightgown over her head.
His eyes raked over her almost naked body. Glazed, they sparkled with the promise of aggression.
A crackle of shadows moved below her skin, and she flexed her hands as the darkness shot around the room, extinguishing the candles to wafting smoke and the hearth to smoldering embers.
Feeding didn’t require either party to be naked, but she wanted him to suffer. She wanted to make this difficult. While his soul draw held a bit of a spell over her, Imani’s despair still lingered beneath the game she was playing with him and gave her purchase to fight his allure.
“Oh, and Kiran,” she added, undoing her braid as she moved closer to him. “I’m starving and going to eat the shit out of your soul.”
Much to her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed.
She fought her own smile. Something was calming about taking control of her fate after this day.
Imani swiped her tongue over her lower lip and stripped off his shirt. She couldn’t help but admire his chest again.
Meandering away, she moved to sit on the bed. It would feel good, and she did need to feed, but focusing was difficult. Waves and waves of her stupidity kept overtaking her. She’d underestimated Meira’s resentment and the rumors about Kiran. And now, she was stuck here, wanting him, feeding from him, but also hating him. Her emotions were a maelstrom inside her heart and head.
But she needed to accept the reality that she had underestimated a great many people, and now her only option was to move forward—alone.
Meira viewed her as some wild beast to be put down. For gods’ sake, her sister knew they would hear her witness testimony and swiftly execute Imani like they had Ara. She still had done it.
On the other hand, the male stripping his pants in front of her thought of her as a stupid female elf whom he could treat as his plaything before marching her off to her death. Imani had been a little brown mouse, and he had been the snake, coiled and ready to strike.
They both wanted to use her for what they wanted before she died.
Deep down, a part of Imani admired people for their ruthlessness and willingness to take what they wanted, like Ara and Kiran. Despite being a woman and despite being an unwanted prince, they weren’t afraid to be strong.
She used to be such a person. The old witch had accused her of not accepting who she was the night before she’d died, and she’d been entirely correct. Imani had denied the essential part of herself for years, especially recently. Controlling it was not the same as denying it. Trying to do what her sister had asked her—to make Meira happy —went against her instincts. She should’ve listened to herself when warning bells had gone off about making friends in Stralas when Meira had suggested it. What an absolutely fucking stupid idea that had been.
Ara had understood the urges were infused into Imani’s body, infecting her essence. Her obsession with death lived in her blood and bones. Unless someone drained her dry and ripped her to pieces, Imani would never be rid of her desires. Instead, she’d fought her natural inclinations for the past decade. Could she be such a person again? Did she have enough control now to let the ugly part of her out to play?
All witches were in danger of being trapped for their power, and her kind grew up hearing stories about elf witches, especially females, who were captured and enslaved for their magic. For their cunts. Throughout her whole time at the palace, she had come dangerously close to that fate, and it horrified her. She had to crush the emotions further down inside her at the moment. It wouldn’t do for Kiran to see her hurting.
She never wanted to be controlled like this again—never. If she didn’t find a way out of this, Ara would be disgusted.
With a deep breath, Imani forced herself back to the present.
Kiran marched forward and ripped her bralette away, flinging the whole thing to the floor. She gasped.
With darkness and desire emanating from him, he watched her like she was a goddess. Then she wasn’t thinking about anything but the present.
Imani bit her lip as he took one of her breasts in each hand, kneading gently. He leaned down to lick at her nipples, and she moaned as he pinched one, sucking on the other to make it hard.
He gave her an impish smile. “You’re sensitive here,” he said. He teased her, scraping his teeth against the extra-sensitive undersides of her tits, sucking the top of one. Imani clenched her core at the dizzying sensations.
But he was taking his time, and her mind was all mixed up. It kept wandering, wallowing in self-pity.
Her grandmother and Riona would shout for her to stop feeling sorry for herself, to get up and go back to work. Ara would never let her give up, forcing Imani to learn from her mistakes. In fact, letting any of them win sent a sensation of pain through her signature, magic, and body like she’d never experienced before.
She dragged her nails down his back to push away those emotions, but it didn’t help.
Esa had been correct; Kiran was far more dangerous than anyone had let on. If he hadn’t already been born a madman—which he had—his family and kingdom had certainly twisted him until he’d transformed into one.
Her nails dug into his skin painfully when he rubbed a rough hand down her soft belly. When his fingers found the waistband of her underthings, she whimpered aloud.
He pulled back and gave her a cocky grin, making her hunger surge. “You’re easy to rile up, you know.”
Imani pressed forward. “Keep touching me.”
He obeyed, still under her thrall, and moved his calloused hands down her thighs. She tried to lose herself in the sensations, to forget how deep the depths of Kiran’s magic and insanity went. She tried to ignore the humiliating truth—it was him she was doing this with after everything he’d done.
Another wave of his need from his draw hit her. A primal need to rip out his throat for this entire evening was a living, breathing thing inside her, but at the same time, desire warred inside her. She clenched her fists, fighting the conflicting feelings.
Imani wondered—honestly wondered—who was the real Kiran? Did he even exist anymore beneath all the games, gambits, and glamour?
She would find out.
He was much broader and more muscular than he let people see. Savage like a shifter while still possessing dark, elven features.
When his gaze snapped open and locked onto hers and stayed, a jolt of emotions slammed into Imani’s chest—a mess of anger, frustration, lust, and longing.
They were both playing a game. He’d orchestrated this entire display for her earlier before she had any idea they’d bargain with each other.
The thought didn’t calm her. If anything, Imani was more out of control. It meant he might have thought about her as much as she thought about him, needing to unravel his mysteries.
Without a word, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Let’s do this as fast as possible,” she whispered, trying to fight the sensations he created inside her.
Imani went first. Leaning forward, she shut her eyes and breathed in the scent of his neck. His magic signature surged at her soul draw. Nuzzling his neck, her signature gave him a gentle tug. Then she pushed her way inside.
Imani did what she’d been craving—she breached his magic signature and reached deep inside his being, straight to the core, letting the power it emanated fill and strengthen her. It was pure, untainted energy to Norn.
As she pulled it out and into her own body, his magic pulsed to life inside her, and the pressure came again. Only, this time, instead of controlling her, it empowered her.
He kissed her flesh, suckling her breast, and then he nipped her hard. She whipped her head back.
“Enough,” he whispered.
Indeed, he had only allowed her to take a sliver of him. Oh, but what he allowed was beautiful. It tasted pure. It tasted like secrets, too. What was hidden inside the core?
Spreading like warmth through her veins, her energy increased … the world was sharper.
When she slid down his body to stand, Kiran’s eyes were nearly closed with bliss. “You are a dangerous creature,” he murmured. It was the most honest thing he’d said to her all night.
Imani tilted her head in surprise. “You’ve never fed from a High-Norn female, have you?”
With his eyes rolling back, he shook his head. Oh, he liked it.
She let her soul draw wrap around him, cocooning him in comfort.
A second later, his eyes ripped open. His bright green eye rapidly bled to black, perfectly matching his other. “My turn.”
Baring his elongated fangs for Imani, he ran his nose over the column of her neck and breathed deep, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. She could feel him slip inside her magic signature and tickle her soul inside her chest. He was careful, taking his time and only partaking in a sliver. Imani wanted to stay suspended in such a lovely feeling for all eternity.
Finally, he pulled away, panting, eyes glassy.
They stood still, catching their breath for a moment. Her whole body trembled in pleasure, and she hated him for it. Hated how much she loved it.
Pushing her tangled hair off her face, she retrieved her underthings and nightgown, repulsed with herself for these confusing sensations.
He started laughing at her. Imani didn’t understand why, but did he need a reason? He was the Mad Prince.
When she turned back to him, her eyes were clouded with shadows. “One day, I will enjoy making you kneel before me, begging, even if it’s only once,” she whispered.
His eyes sliced like knives into her soul. “That day will be a long time coming. For now, I’m your king, and you’ll kneel before me if I so desire it.”
“You’re nothing if I’m the only one kneeling before you, and I doubt the current monarch’s unstable snake of a son will ever truly take the Throne, so I’d let go of that dream.”
“What do you know about my dreams?” Unglamoured, his magic signature was menacing as it snaked around him, silently snapping and snarling at her. Fangs still out, he shoved her against the wall. “You’re a pawn in this game and my family’s plans … and you don’t even know it.”
Kiran might be a handsome prince, but underneath his arrogant tone, a hint of longing and insecurity he tried to hide surfaced.
“If I’m a pawn, so are you,” she sneered. “If the rumors are true, then your father hates you. So, why would he confide his plans to you at all? How could you, of all people, know anything about his plans? It’s laughable.”
“You couldn’t even fathom the relationship my father and I have, so don’t presume to understand.”
A tense silence fell until someone clearing their throat startled them. Their heads ripped toward the door.
Master Heirwyn’s voice was flat when she spoke. “Kiran, we have work to do. Wrap this up.”
He gave her a curt nod then turned to Imani. “Don’t linger in your rooms. Get to the traveling party as fast as possible, or the queen will arrest you and there’s nothing I can do.”
She nodded.
“Leave me, Lady Aowyn.” His voice was low and had an air of viciousness.
“Gladly.” She tugged her nightgown on and barely shoved on her robe before storming from the suite.
Anger like she’d never known burned through her. But she was also invigorated. Because the longer she was around Kiran, the more she learned. And he was every bit as mad, insecure, and desperate as the rumors said.
A vicious look spread across her face. Kiran might seem unpredictable, because no one understood how he worked or his endgame.
They didn’t understand Kiran, the man.
Only the prince.