Chapter 8 - Irena
IRENA
“I need your blood,” he says, and I feel my heart freeze within me.
I knew this was coming—I told myself I was prepared. But that was before I saw his fangs up-close. They’re so long and sharp they remind me of daggers! And I’m supposed to let him drink from me?
“You…you have to have it now?” I ask and hate myself for the way my voice goes high and uncertain on the last word.
He frowns and crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“If you want me to be able to Shift and fly us out of here before the guards come searching for us both, then yes—I need your blood now. It’s been almost a year since I’ve drunk from a female—I don’t have the power to take my Drake form until I do.”
I said I would do anything to save my mother and I meant it.
“Very well,” I say. Pulling back the long sleeve of my dress, I step up to him and offer him the fragile blue bracelet of veins that trace the underside of my wrist.
But to my surprise, the beast—or perhaps I ought to start calling him “Valen”—shakes his head.
“No. Not there—I can’t drink from your wrist,” he says, frowning.
Goddess above! I feel faint but I know what that means.
“Very well,” I say, trying to keep my voice cool and unbothered, though my heart is pounding like it’s trying to get out of my chest.
I sweep my long hair to one side, baring the side of my throat for him. My skin is quite pale—he should have no trouble finding a vein.
He takes me by the shoulders and I can’t help flinching as he leans closer.
He’s so big. I feel like a child in an evil fairytale caught in a giant’s grip. His bonfire-and-male-musk scent fills my nose and makes me dizzy as he presses his face close to the vulnerable side of my neck. He inhales deeply—as though he’s a beast scenting me before he bites.
I’ve never been so close to a male before—especially not such a big one.
I try to stop the convulsive shiver that runs through me with no success.
His big body radiates heat against my skin as though he’s running a fever, but I think this is just his normal temperature.
Maybe because the dragon inside him is full of fire.
“Mmm, you smell like springtime, little Princess,” he rumbles, and I feel his lips, surprisingly soft, against my neck.
And then he licks me—his hot tongue tracing the delicate veins in my throat, sending a rush of forbidden sensation through my whole body. Chill-bumps break out all up and down my arms and my nipples are suddenly tight and aching.
What’s wrong with me? I should hate this! And I do—or part of me does. But another part wants more.
My mind is racing and my heart is pounding. I’ve never had a man touch me or lick me like this. In Court, a polite touch of one gloved hand to another is the extent of our intimacy.
His mouth is so hot on my vulnerable flesh!
I had no idea the side of my neck was so sensitive—having him touch me there feels almost as though he was touching another, more forbidden area.
I press my thighs together where the secret part of me is enflamed, wishing I wasn’t feeling the way I’m feeling.
“Oh!” I gasp, unable to be quiet as he licks me again. “What…how…how long is this going to take?”
“It will take as long as it takes,” he growls softly in my ear. “But unfortunately, I can’t drink from your neck either.”
“You…you can’t?” My voice comes out breathless.
“No, I can’t.” He pulls back and I see that his eyes are burning red like coals again. “Such a pretty little Princess,” he rumbles and strokes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I’m afraid I need to drink from your thigh.”
“My what?” I can feel my eyes going wide with disbelief as I look up at him.
“Your thigh,” he growls and I hear impatience in his voice and also hunger—or is it thirst?
“Why from there? That’s completely unacceptable!” I protest. “I am a proper young lady who—”
“Who’s going to be dragged back to the castle in disgrace if I don’t get some blood so I can Shift,” he says flatly. “Look, sweetheart—taking blood from your thigh is as much for your benefit as it is for mine. Look at my fangs…”
He leans closer and opens his mouth again, showing me the long, sharp, dagger-like fangs.
“I…I don’t understand,” I say faintly.
“Your wrist and neck are too delicate,” he explains. “If I try to bite you in either of those places, I’ll do serious damage. I might even fucking kill you—you’re too tiny and fragile for me to bite you anywhere except your thigh.”
No one’s ever accused me of being “tiny” or “delicate” before—I’m considered much too big and tall for a woman by the Nobles of the Court. It’s one reason I have no suitors—my bookish ways being the other.
But that isn’t my main focus. I bite my lower lip as I eye his fangs again. They look long enough to pierce right through my wrist and come out the other side. And I have to admit they could do serious damage to my neck too. But my thigh?
“I…I don’t…” I begin, unsure of what to say. “I’ve never let a man—”
“Of course you haven’t—you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
As he speaks, he’s already kneeling before me and pushing me against a tree. The rough bark scratches me through my cloak and gown.
“That’s a…a very impertinent question!” I gasp.
“Not nearly as impertinent as this.”
And with that, he raises my skirts, baring my legs to the cold night air as he presses his face between my thighs.