Chapter 15
RHI
I can still taste his blood on my tongue.
A flavor as rich, bold, and addicting as the most decadent chocolate and just him.
It caused the memories of his death, the death I granted as a small mercy, to flood my brain.
I hadn’t even realized I’d won our match on a technicality.
I’d just stood there, baffled as Nick stared back at me in bewilderment, blood pouring from his thumb.
Biting him hadn’t been an act of vengeance—it was merely second nature.
The desire to sink my teeth into him, to taste him.
His fingers caressing my skin hadn’t helped.
The bargain and our match was the furthest thing from my mind.
I’d been so consumed with the feel of his tantalizing fingers upon my flesh, with the feel of his impressive erection against my backside, reaching for him was mindless, involuntarily.
My body reacted of its own accord, forgetting our environs and the fact we’d had an audience.
Nick regarded me with nothing less than scrutiny.
I’d thought he’d be angry I’d bested him.
Instead, he seemed to study me with wonder, a hint of maddening obsession in those gorgeous golden orbs.
Still, rather than reach for me, he’d simply acknowledged the agreed-upon terms and disappeared, and I haven’t heard from him since.
Dinner had been a lonely affair in my room.
No invitation was extended for me to dine with Nick and members of his Court, and now, I’m wondering if showing up the King of Hell, the Devil himself, in his own match was foolish on my part.
The idea is to get as close to Nick as possible, and now, I fear I might have driven him away.
My mind dredges up our encounter last night, the way his eyes devoured my naked body, like a man starving for a meal he’d long been denied; his firm and demanding touch; his devastating kiss; the way his tongue danced and warred with my own in a battle of sheer desperation.
I groan softly, the fire between my legs igniting all over again. The idea that I’ll spend another night unable to satiate this delicious ache has me screaming into my pillow.
Of course, I could always give in and allow myself the pleasure I’ve been denied for months. I’ve made my peace with the fact that I may have to give myself to Nick as Raphael and must accept they are one and the same.
The issue is Isadora. Despite Nick being my soulmate, I can’t bring myself to be intimate with him knowing he may, at this very moment, be in her bed or her in his. I don’t want to be the other woman, even if by a technicality, I’m not.
I throw the pillow over my head and back into its place, my frustration still not abated.
My onyx nightgown rides up my thighs as I kick my covers down, shivering at how the silken material sweeps over bare skin.
Unable to withstand it any longer, my fingers creep over my hip bone, toward the waistband of my black undergarments, and slip beneath them.
I close my eyes, bringing forward in vivid detail the night in Nick’s penthouse with me on all fours, and slide two fingers inside myself with ease.
That night is ingrained in my memory: his unrelenting grip on my hips.
His punishing thrusts. His unyielding hold on my neck as he pinned me down and plowed into me from behind.
I quicken the thrusts of my own fingers, my breaths turning to pants.
Yet, it still isn’t enough. I need to feel the pain accompanied by his rough grasp.
I need his demanding voice telling me to scream his name.
I need his scent, the smokey cedarwood and sweet vanilla that has always promised equal parts danger and safety, to envelope me like it does now.
Wait.
My eyes remain closed as I reach my left hand underneath my pillow, my fingers closing around the hilt of the dagger I was given at the ball.
Faster than an adder, I bring the sharp edge of the dagger forward just as someone grips the wrist that currently hides beneath my panties.
My jaw drops when my eyes open and I find Nick hovering over me, one hand on the wrist holding the dagger against his throat, the other joining mine beneath my underwear.
When I don’t make a move to cut his throat, a slow grin graces his mouth, and he maneuvers me like a puppet, moving my wrist so my fingers continue pumping in a delicious rhythm.
“By all means, don’t stop on my account.”
I allow him to take control, moving my hand at a steady pace, but his all-consuming presence and piercing gaze make my body hunger for more. I fight against Nick’s hold, and his grip tightens to the point of pain.
“If you stop, I’ll make you come on my fingers instead.”
I press the blade harder against his throat, pinning him with my stare. “What are you waiting for?”
A brief expression of shock washes his features before it’s replaced by undiluted lust. Nick practically flings my wrist away.
My body shudders at the sight of his long, exquisite claws tearing through my underwear so they are nothing but scraps of silk.
The claws disappear right before he plunges two fingers inside me.
I arch my back, crying out at the intrusion.
A low growl of approval tumbles from his lips.
Nick continues to keep the blade at his throat while he mercilessly plunders me with his fingers.
I grip the silk sheets in desperation with my right hand, careful not to let my claws loose, which is nearly impossible, since my body is begging for some form of release.
“Open your eyes,” Nick demands. “I want to see those beautiful eyes while you shatter all over my fingers.”
I acquiesce, the blinding pleasure building in my core nearly reaching its peak. I hold that gilded stare, completely at his mercy, and release a guttural scream when Nick adds a third finger.
“Oh gods.” Every nerve in my body fires at once.
Nick curls his fingers inside me. “There are no gods here, sorceress, only the Devil. Now, come for me.”
I buck my hips, grinding against his hand as pleasure so potent, it’s borderline painful explodes in a kaleidoscope of colors.
My gaze strays to the dagger still at his throat, the one he holds there with my wrist. Blood pools like rubies against the sharp edge of the blade, my orgasm propelling it to dig further into his delicate skin.
Yet, his fingers never slow their maddening rhythm.
My breath quickens with each thrust, and a slow, sultry smile curves his mouth.
“That’s it. Make me bleed while I make you come.”
Blood runs along the blade, pooling at the tip and dripping down onto my abdomen.
Nick continues to wrench the orgasm from me, but even when my breathing slows and I’m near-sobbing at the overstimulation, Nick merely stills his hand.
He loosens his grip on my wrist holding the blade and knocks it away.
Then, with his fingers still inside me, he lowers his face down to my abdomen and, in slow, tantalizing strokes, licks the blood from my skin.
I tremble at the feel of his tongue gliding across my flesh. Nick finally removes his fingers, and I whimper at the absence of him, though he hovers infuriatingly close to my most sensitive area.
Exhaustion blankets my limbs, so I don’t stop him when he glides down my body, his face positioned at the apex of my thighs. I might actually die if his mouth goes anywhere near my throbbing clit and he forces another orgasm from me, but I’m too lost in him to care.
“I’ve spent the last three nights imagining how you would taste, stroking my cock to the very image you just granted me.” His warm breath fans my center.
Fuck. Now all I can think about is Nick stroking himself, and my eyes flutter closed, the thought causing more arousal to leak down my thighs.
“Eyes on me, sorceress.”
Instantly, I find his gaze, the seductive demand within his tone leaving no room for protest. Not that I would. But another thought creeps in—if Nick has spent the last three nights taking care of himself, does that mean he and Isadora—
The rest of the thought dissipates as Nick brings two, gloss-slicked fingers to his mouth and sucks, his eyes closing as though he is savoring the most succulent meal. Suddenly, they wrench open, wide and startled, and a strange flash of recognition illuminates them.
He rises on his knees, staring down at me with a sense of astonishment before he reaches toward me and his strong hand cups the back of my neck. Nick pulls me upright so I’m on my knees, his left hand grasping my waist. Thumb sweeping gently over my mouth, he whispers, “Who are you?”
I swallow, unsure how to answer, so I go with the first thing that pops into my head, something he said to me once.
“I’m yours.”
He blinks, a shiver wracking his body, and at first, I think I’ve done it.
Please remember, I beg. Remember me. Remember us.
“Do you truly mean that?” His lips skate over my jaw, his fingers dancing along my inner thighs.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Nick pulls back and holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger. For the first time, I witness vulnerability in his gaze.
“Say my name,” he growls in my ear.
I bite down on my bottom lip, cursing internally. My refusal to call him Raphael runs deeper than my hatred for a name that doesn’t belong to him. It’s as though the Thread that binds us prohibits me from speaking it. The only name I will allow to leave my lips is Nicholas.
A curious thought makes itself known: Nick has never once called me Liv. I wonder if, deep down, our bond forbids him from speaking it.
There is only one way to find out.
“Only if you say mine,” I challenge.
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, but no name spills from it. Instead, he grins wickedly. “Sorceress.”
“Devil.” I smile back.
He runs a finger along my collarbone, pushing a stray piece of hair behind my shoulder. “If you won’t say my name, will you say his?”
Fuck. I shake my head.
Nick tsks. “How am I to help you find him if you offer no information?”
My lips remain shut.
An exasperated sigh. “Will you at least divulge what he looks like?”
I cock my head to the side, a playful smile edging my lips. “You, incidentally.”
Nick tips his head back and laughs. “Well, this should be easy. There aren’t many in my Court who look like me.”
No one looks like you, like the man I love.
He gives me one more longing look before he climbs off the bed, a chill descending upon my skin at his departure. Nick casts a glance at me.
“You meant what you said earlier—you’re mine?”
“Yes,” I say, sitting back on my heels.
Nick kills the space between us, tiling my chin up towards his beautiful face. “I aim to find this lover you are so intent on rescuing.”
“So you can kill him?”
A slow smile. “No.”
“Then why—”
“You may have chosen him first, but it will be I who claims your heart at the end.” He leans closer, lips brushing over my own. “And I want him to bear witnesses when you choose me.”
Nick takes my mouth in a possessive, reckless kiss that leaves me breathless. Then, the feel of him dissipates, and when I open my eyes, he is gone.