Chapter 10
Picorer
CLAIRE
Iopened the door to my bedchamber, bracing myself for the vampire to sweep inside, pin me against the wall, and sink his teeth into my throat, but he didn’t move.
He just stood there, staring like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
His eyes traced a slow, languid path down my body, heat blooming everywhere his gaze landed—like a hunter setting snares, trapping me in place.
He was drinking me in, but not the way I’d braced for.
His gaze lingered on the swell of my breasts.
My nipples tightened beneath the thin fabric of my shift, as if coaxed into hard peaks by the weight of his stare.
I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, trying to ignore how delicious it felt to be desired and pretend to be unbothered by him.
“Please, come in, Your Grace.” The words left me in a bare whisper, but I knew he could hear me as if I screamed it. I stepped out of the way to allow him inside.
The sound of my voice seemed to jolt him from his daze.
“Your robe…” he replied.
He closed the distance between us in two slow steps. My breath caught as his hand found the loose fabric, pulling the edges together over my chest. The whisper of silk against my skin made me shiver.
Then his long fingers found the sash, easily threading the ends to make a knot at my waist. His knuckles brushed my stomach as he worked.
The faintest touch, but it sent an unexpected shock through me, rolling down my spine and pooling low.
My thighs pressed together instinctively, my body betraying me, turning warm and slick despite the danger of what came next.
For someone whom I despised so deeply, his touch ignited something I couldn’t ignore.
When Bastien was done with the knot, he tested it to ensure it was secure by slipping a finger under the sash and tugging, which I wasn’t expecting. I gasped, my hands splaying out on his hard chest to catch myself. He steadied me with a hand on my low back, holding me flush against him.
I tipped my head back, lips parting as I looked up at him. The hunger in his eyes nearly undid me. My toes curled against the soft carpet.
“This isn’t the convent. You would do well to knot your robe.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Your Grace,” I said. Not sure what else to say.
“Good.”
Every muscle inside me tightened and melted against him at the same time.
He didn’t pull away, nor did I, but something stiffened between us.
Something hard that pressed against my stomach.
Something that my body instinctively leaned into.
I forced myself to steady my gaze on his, taking in every inch of him to distract myself from that hardness. Trying—and failing—to ignore it.
This close, his eyes were as clear and blue as the water that lapped at the shore near the Falls of Amara, my favorite place in the whole world.
Especially when the sun kissed my bare skin, and the breeze was warm.
Right now, he was making me feel warmer than the sun ever had.
My attention drifted to his mouth. To the way his lips were parted.
I shook my head to clear the fantasy. The sleeping draught.
It was already working. My thoughts unraveled into dreamy wisps.
Ill-conceived fantasies. I needed him to take his fill of me before I was too tired to think straight.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” I asked, my voice breathy and much higher than normal.
He hesitated for a moment longer, then released his hold on me. Stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “Get your cloak. And put on some slippers. I want to show you something.”
Confused, I took a step backward, trying to relieve myself of the effect his scent and his body had on me. I had to keep my wits about me. “But what about our feeding? You need to eat, don’t you?”
His reply was not hurried. His gaze ticked down my body and back up again, as if he were assessing me. “I’m not hungry.”
I squinted, recalling what Lady Okeri had said to Tyson. “But you look weak.”
“I assure you, I am not weak, Miss Donadieu. Now, if you’ll be so good as to follow me.”
I bit my lip, trying to think. I needed to act.
I’d already drank the sleeping draught. Desperately, I reached for his hand.
His skin, while cool, was rough and calloused from days in the saddle.
I lifted it to my neck. The fire crackled.
The muffled sounds of those still drinking could be heard below.
“Your Grace” I said, “Please. Let me do my job.”
“Your heart is racing. I can feel it.” His thumb skated across my throat. “Just here.”
He leaned in, and I had no idea what he meant to do. Just bite me, I thought. But he didn’t. He just got closer. And closer. Until my only thoughts were of his lips and how desperately I wanted to feel them against mine. A terrible, awful thing to think.
Bastien dropped his hand from my throat. “I said, follow me.”
He didn’t wait for me. I couldn’t believe he was leaving, just like that.
“Where are we going?” I called after him as he disappeared down the long hall, quickly toeing on my slippers.
He didn’t reply.
Cursing under my breath, I was forced to chase after him as he made his way down the stairs and through the tavern, passing those dedicated to their drinks. They all cheered and raised their glasses as the Duke of Roselyn strode out the back door.
Racing after him, I struggled to keep up with his long strides as we exited the inn.
I was grateful for the cold, which was probably the first time in my life I’d ever thought such a ridiculous thing.
It was keeping me awake almost as well as the telareyon root in my pocket, and it gave a reason for my cheeks to be pink besides his presence.
Bastien pointed at a nearby wooden building. Low light shone from fogged windows, and the only sign of life was the line of smoke puffing from the chimney. The front door a stone’s throw from the black lake.
“Why are we going there?” I asked. My brain conjured images of torture devices where these evil sorcerers put Witches of the Light to the question. “And why are we walking so fast?”
Frigid dew soaked the hem of my robe, chilling my ankles.
Bastien didn’t slow his pace. “We’re going to the bathhouse.”
“A bathhouse?” I repeated.
Off in the distance, I saw an ancient witch standing on the porch of one of the small homes. All of a sudden, the inn seemed much safer. I lowered my voice. “Your Grace, why are we going to a bathhouse?”
I laced my arm through his and pulled myself against him, feeling safer with a blood-drinking vampire between me and her.
He angled his chin toward me. Humor lighting his icy eyes. “Didn’t you take baths at the Nightfall Convent?”
“Of course I took baths,” I said defensively. “Just not in a special house or in the company of…” My thoughts broke off, and I unwound my arm from him, hugging it to my chest. I gazed at the grass. “A male.”
He stopped in front of me, and I nearly ran right into him.
My damp slippers skidding over the slick grass.
His glare was hard and cold.“I’m only accompanying you, not bathing with you,” he clarified.
“And I’m doing so because it’s my duty to protect you from the evil witches who fed you stew and offered to make you a poultice for the wounds that magickal necklace created,” he said, gesturing to the choker.
“That necklace is the reason you and I are in the mess we’re in. ”
There was something accusatory hiding behind his tone, and I knew he didn’t trust me. Nor I him.
Bastien might be a beautiful monster, but he was still a monster. I recalled what Mama had told me. To be polite and subservient. That’s what they want. A pleasant pincushion. “You’re upset with me.”
He made an amused sound in the back of his throat, but nothing in his face was playful. “You’re insightful.”
“I thought I was stubborn. Or perhaps, brave.”
While the moon refused to shine on the lake, Diana’s light didn’t shy away from him. It hung on his every feature. The silvery glow illuminated one side of his face, and in this light, the Duke of Roselyn looked otherworldly. Beautiful, and at the same time, terrifying.
“Those qualities are not mutually exclusive,” he said.
The one good thing about this battle of wills was, like the cold, it was helping me fight the sleepiness lurking behind my eyelids.
We needed to hurry this along. Bastien backed up several paces, easing his way toward the entrance of the bathhouse.
I followed him. Wondering what he was thinking and why he’d really brought me here.
Was it only for a bath? Fear rose inside me once again, and I wrung my hands together, trying to work out the nervous energy.
“What makes you so insightful and brave, Miss Donadieu?” His attention drifted to the strip of lace around my neck. “What drove you to purchase a magickal necklace that could have killed you?” He paused. “What do you need from me?”
He’d brought me out here to question me, I realized. To force a confession. Well, I wasn’t giving up that easily.
“Safety,” I said, exasperated. “Security. Money. All the reasons a woman becomes a sanguine partner.”
These were lies, but I knew it was the truth he wanted to hear. The truth I’d been taught to give.
Faster than I thought possible, he whirled me around, the solid wood slamming against my back as his body caged me in. The wind left my lungs in a whoosh of breath. His hand gripped my chin, forcing my attention back to his face.
Suddenly, I wasn’t as cold as I was a moment ago.
His eyes narrowed. “You are far too innocent to have chosen me on your own. My castle is the furthest north, closest to the border, where snow falls year-round, and you shiver in an autumn chill. You could’ve picked a different vampire’s ball to attend; one whose temperament and castle were better suited to your delicate nature.
”His chest rose and fell against mine, each breath a brand on my skin.
My lips parted on a tremor I couldn’t suppress.
“Someone coerced you to put on that necklace. Someone instructed you to target me. And I want to know who.”