Chapter 23
Blaise
Iwake up from the best fucking dream in all my insufferably long existence.
I dreamed of Sariah’s plump lips barely grazing mine in a hushed kiss, a barely contained whisper of the momentous passion that I know is building between us, ravaging me since the first moment I laid my eyes on her.
Her sweet floral taste still clings to the inside of my mouth, a cruel taunt and an auspicious promise.
I groan, my limbs weightless as I unfurl and stretch against the satin bedsheets. A jasmine-scented flurry wafts in the air around me as I try to shake the last vestiges of sleep from my still fuzzy brain.
“Blaise,” comes a relieved murmur as a warm hand touches my forehead. I blink against the harsh sunlight, my vision spinning for a moment before it settles on Sariah’s mesmerizing face, eyes lit with worry and something else, much softer.
“Moonlight?” I rasp, my voice husky from prolonged disuse. Gods, how long was I out?
“Shhh, Blaise. Take it easy. You’ve been out of it for almost three days. I was so worried about you.”
Fractured images seep through my consciousness like broken glass trying to mend itself.
The dinner hall.
My jealousy.
The onpyrs descending upon us like a scourge of rot and madness.
“The attack? How many did we lose?” I ask, unease coiling around my chest, as I prop on one elbow, taking a better look at her. She’s in my chamber, sitting on the edge of my bed, worry shining in her eyes for me.
Am I still dreaming?
“Only a handful of casualties on our side. It was orchestrated, Blaise. A coup of sorts. Multiple attacks in Drovillan. Outside of Sangeries. The tunnels have been compromised. That’s how they reached us.”
“They were sent to kill Killian and Aimee,” I say, a chill seeping into my bones.
“But found us instead,” Sariah answers with a grave nod. “Our warriors held their own, vampires and Dark Umbras fighting together. But they were so many. That’s why it took them so long to come to our aid.”
“How did we not sense them? Two of the greatest spies this realm has ever seen, and they took us by fucking surprise.”
“Draped in iron,” she answers, shame dripping from her voice. “And I, oh pretty boy, I was so intent on goading you, so enthralled by our little exchange that I let my guard down. Almost cost you your life.”
She casts her wary gaze away from me in remorse, but I’m having none of that. I gently grab her chin, my thumb caressing the swell of her lower lip.
“You kissed me.”
“I did,” she hums against my flesh, and I flip us over, hovering above her, my locks cascading over us like a cloak in the night.
“Will you deny me the pleasure of your lips again?” I ask, my calloused hands gripping her hips through the satin folds of the powder-blue dress she’s wearing.
“I…” Her breath catches, her teeth sinking into her pouty lip, mine burning to do the same. “I won’t.”
That’s all the permission I need before I take her mouth like a spoil of conquest, my tongue parting her lips and curling against her own.
I lick her teeth, lost in the feeling of her pliant body pressed against my own.
A roaring rumble grows from deep within my chest as she tangles her fingers in my braids, pulling me impossibly closer to her.
I pepper kisses down the column of her throat, swirling my tongue around her collarbone before grabbing a taut, silk-covered nipple and biting down hard.
She whimpers in response, a sharpened cry of pain and ecstasy that travels down my body like a jolt of lightning directly to my groin.
“I’m going to devour you, moonlight. So fucking thoroughly that it will erase any thoughts of other males from your brain. I’ll gorge on your cunt until you’re nothing but a puddle in my arms. Until your screams shake the very foundation of this fucking castle.”
“Blaise.” My name on her lips is a wanton plea to the heavens above, and it only stirs my excitement further.
I rip her dress right down the middle and, to my surprise and utter delight, she’s not wearing any undergarments at all.
The only thing hiding her from my hungry gaze is a tuft of pale blond, curly hair.
I lick my fangs in anticipation, drooling like a starved male in front of a scrumptious meal.
I push her knees apart, baring her completely to my control, and delve in without further delay.
The first sweep of my tongue against her pussy sends us both into a frenzy.
Sariah’s throaty moans fill my bedroom like a carnal symphony, and my cock swells against my trousers, pulsing with aching need.
I flatten my tongue against her folds, dragging my fangs on the sensitive skin before capturing her engorged nub between my teeth and biting just enough to make her scream.
She’s thrashing in my grasp and I pin her hands down on the bed, giving her no room to escape.
I flick her nub again and again, rejoicing in the tortured way she gasps and begs for more. Her pulse is skittering all over the place, her arousal gliding down my throat like overflowing ambrosia.
I know what she wants, but I’m not ready to give it to her. She deserves to be tortured, her climax postponed, for all the times she rejected me.
Yes, I am petty like that.
I glide a finger against her folds, coating it in her juices before I press it against her ass.
I breach her tight channel just as I start fucking her pussy with my tongue, like I’ll do later with my cock.
Her greedy holes clench against my intrusion, her inner walls convulsing against my tongue and digit.
I sense her pleasure spiking, her entire body galloping toward release, and I halt.
“What the…don’t stop, Blaise!” she wails, her tone high-pitched and needy.
“No can do, little pixie. You’ll come when I say so, and not a moment sooner.”
I open the nightstand to retrieve a pair of shackles, and her eyes widen at the sight.
“You want to play dirty, pretty boy?” she asks in a mocking tone as she wraps her thighs around my middle and overturns me. She wrenches the manacles from my grasp and locks my hands above my head, chained to the bedpost in a heartbeat.
“We’ll play dirty then, but by my rules, not yours.” The mischievous glint in her eyes has my blood run wild as she rips my shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.
She rubs herself up and down my covered groin, creating delicious friction that sends bolts of liquid lightning through my buzzing flesh.
Her deft fingers find my belt, sliding it out of the pant loops torturously slow, and snapping the leather in the air like a whip.
The cracking sound is a promise of sin I cannot wait to fulfill with her.
“When I said we were too similar, pretty boy, I wasn’t jesting,” she murmurs with a kiss to my chest, her tongue swirling around the ridges of my abdomen.
“Open up for me,” she continues, tapping my lips with a sharp fingernail.
I part them on a harsh exhale, and she places the belt in my mouth, the earthy tang of leather coating my tongue.
“Bite down,” she whispers wickedly, “and don’t let go. You like to be in charge in the bedroom?” she asks, grazing her nails down my chest, applying just enough pressure to sting.
I mumble against the leathery gag, but the words come out unintelligible.
“Nod for a yes, shake your pretty head for a no, Blaise,” she instructs, and I nod eagerly.
“That’s just the thing, pretty boy. So do I. Are you willing to submit to me for a change?”
My head swims with the razor-edged tension between us.
I’ve never been on the other side of this dynamic.
My particular sexual tastes thrive on having the females at my mercy.
Yet, her show of dominance heats the ice-cold blood in my veins, my cock leaking pre-cum in my pants.
For her, and only her, I’ll relinquish all control.
I’ll be her puppet, her servant, her submissive. She’ll be my everything.
I give a slow, measured nod.
“Good boy,” Sariah mewls, lifting herself off me enough to pull my dick out of my pants and impaling herself on it in one swift, unforgiving movement.
The air leaves my lungs with a harsh whoosh as I’m buried inside to the hilt.
She feels exquisite. Her walls clench around me with carnal desperation, and she accommodates my size without an ounce of discomfort. Only pure, wet ardor.
“I knew you’d be a big boy,” she purrs as she glides up and down on my shaft, picking up the pace and undulating her hips to a rhythm known only by her. “You walk around with this massive dick aura about you, and you don’t disappoint.”
I’m dying to ask how long she’s been thinking about my cock, but the leather in my mouth prevents me from voicing my thoughts.
Her long nails leave red welts on my torso, and I watch enraptured as she chases her own release with wild abandon.
Her pale locks cling to her feverish skin like an opaline veil, and my fingers clench reflexively, burning to wrap her hair around my knuckles like a sinful rosary.
I’ve never been big on the whole Gods thing, hardly finding it in me to worship abstract deities, but in this moment I feel the faith seeping into my bones. Faith in her.
I’d spend my days on my knees, praying at her feet if she’d let me. I’d beg, grovel and demean myself if she’d ask me to. I don’t think she fully grasps my level of obsession with her, or devotion. I don’t fully grasp it either.
It’s like after six hundred years of deflection and debauchery, the weight of my repressed feelings is drowning me like a murderous avalanche high in the Saunoque Mountains.
I never formed romantic attachments, and now, this one is burning me alive—well, as alive as one can be by vampiric standards.