Chapter 35
Aryana
Aryana sat at the vanity table of Zarathos’s room staring at the suggestion potion, her mind a jumble of thoughts.
It had been that way ever since the banquet, and the only relief she’d found was in the arch king’s sanctuary working on her tapestry, the work needing her concentration enough to keep her anxieties from chasing after her.
Finally feeling a bit better, she'd convinced herself to take a bath and put on a change of clothes.
She reached behind her, trying to do up the impossible buttons on her dress, thinking of when Zarathos had helped her when she first arrived. Gods, that felt like an eternity ago.
The door opened so suddenly she jumped to her feet. The sun had already set. She knew he had kingly affairs to attend to, but he’d always taken the time to check on her. She didn’t know how to express her feelings. How to tell him she wanted him near despite what she was going through.
Without saying anything, he walked over and picked up the clear potion that he always ingested.
His eyes met hers, the elixir clutched in his fist, halfway to his lips.
Part of her longed to beg him not to take it—the potion that caused him such painful seizures—but knew by now that her opinion meant little to him in such matters.
So it took a full minute for her to comprehend it, even after he set the still-full vial on the vanity table and stepped away. He watched her with those golden ringed dark depths that shot through her like a spark of lightning. Something warm and hot burned in those eyes. Something Aryana desired.
He stopped right behind her, his gaze never leaving hers in the mirror.
“What is it, Zarathos?” she whispered, as if speaking too loud might break the spell. For some reason, she was unwilling to stop this, this way his eyes sparked, and the darkness gathered. Light and dark. That was Zarathos. She could never pin him down and in that moment, she didn’t want to.
He stepped closer until the heat from his body washed over her. Raising his hand, he swept her hair aside, and he ran his clawed nails over her skin. He leaned close, then paused, looking at her in the mirror. “May I?”
She nodded. His lips brushed her neck at the healed spot where Xaphoron’s teeth had sunk into her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
His mouth moved to her shoulder, his touch sending an electric current through her. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed the upside down crown painted there. “I’m sorry.”
Stepping even closer, he kissed his way down her spine, his hands stroking her flesh, each time murmuring, “I’m sorry.”
She breathed deeply, her breaths coming faster. “Why are you doing this?”
He leaned up to murmur in her ear. “Isn’t it obvious by now, Aryana?” His lips brushed her neck, then her other side, his hands on her body slid into her dress, bringing raging heat everywhere he touched.
“Nothing with you is obvious,” she muttered, reclining her head, enjoying each careful press of his lips and the slow sweep of his fingers.
“I can’t stop myself. With you I can’t…” His hands moved downward in gentle circles. “With you, I am powerless to stop it. You make me weak, Aryana.”
She turned to face him and it drew the front of her dress from her shoulders.
She allowed one side to fall, revealing a bare breast. “Being kind isn’t weakness, Zarathos.
” Unabashed hunger ignited in his gaze as he looked at her pale breast. He gripped the other side of her dress and pulled it down.
She let him, bearing her bosom before him.
He reached up and traced the outline of each soft nipple. “This isn’t kindness I’m feeling.”
Goosebumps gathered on her skin as her flesh pebbled around her tits.
It wasn’t what she was feeling, either. She tried to tell herself that she was using him, that this was all part of her plan, but she didn’t care anymore.
There was no plan. She’d lost so much, had so much taken from her.
Now, in her darkest moment, she chose to let it all go and fall into the seduction that was the demon arch king.
“Give into it, Zarathos,” she murmured. “Whatever it is. Do what you want. Don’t hold back.”
He swallowed, looking almost frightened. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Take some of my blood.”
She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Not that she didn’t want to. The very thought had her heart thumping wildly in her chest and a ravenous hunger building on her tongue.
She licked her lips and her canines elongated. “Last time I couldn’t stop.”
“I will stop you.” He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor, revealing his shadow-gray flesh. Gods, he was beautiful. A dark angel of death.
He lifted a claw and drew a line, breaking his own skin, causing a sliver of red to bubble up on his flesh. And the scent. She didn’t remember that scent being that strong before.
The Bloodbound mark on her thigh was warm, pulsing so hard it was spreading upward, filling her core.
A sudden thirst seized her. She needed that blood in her body, needed it inside her.
She lunged forward, licking the line that had dripped over his skin.
A moan of pure pleasure rose out of her and she couldn’t stop herself.
Her teeth sank into him, drawing more and more.
“Yes, Aryana.” His head tucked toward hers, and his arms came around her, sliding her dress the rest of the way off of her, and pressing her bare body against his.
She shoved harder against him, aligning her hips with his, noting how quickly he hardened under her. He released a low growl and then lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, rubbing against his hardness, moving while she took in that exquisite blood.
He laid her on the bed and pulled back. A whimper issued out of her as she lost access to his blood.
She ran her tongue across her lips, not wanting to lose a single drop.
Her body pulsed with desire, every damn part of her.
She opened her mouth to beg for more, beg him to ravish her in any manner he wished.
“You said I can do what I wanted,” he said, gazing at her with the look of someone who desired to devour her whole.
“Don’t hold back.”
His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. He withdrew, dropping his trousers to the floor. “Then prepare yourself, Vampress. Tonight, I will paint you in my cum.”
He flipped her onto her stomach and slid his hand under her lips.
That wasn’t fair. He had wiped some of his blood on his palm and she lapped it hungrily until it was gone.
Her body rolled against the cool satin covers, but the small amount of blood wasn’t enough.
She sank her teeth into his skin and took more.
“Yes, Vampress, that’s it. Good girl.”
His other hand wove into her hair as he shifted onto the bed, leaning over her.
The hardness of his cock pressed against her cheek.
Shit, she didn’t even care as he started rocking against her, rubbing its velvety length against her, harder, harder.
His grip in her hair didn’t allow her to move as his aroused scent grew stronger.
He groaned as he shoved his cock against her neck, her cheek, her throat.
And then a gasp escaped him and she felt his cum pour over her skin.
Gently, his fingers caressed the wetness across her face and then intertwined it into her hair.
Gods, when he said he was going to paint her…
He didn’t let her go, and she didn’t desire him to.
He pressed his cock against the back of her head and rode her again, shoving her face into the bedding, his hand that she had between her teeth sinking deeper into his palm.
She only moaned again with pleasure as he came again, this time his cum coating her entire head and neck.
Like a careful artist, he spread it over her skin, and then he moved to her shoulder blades.
Oh gods, she couldn’t take much more. She loved his blood, but she needed something touching her down below. It pulsed with need, a desperate ache that had her releasing her hold on Zarathos and gasping as he rubbed his cock against her over and over.
“Zarathos, please.”
A guttural groan burst out of him, followed by more wetness spilling over her back. Shit. Even demons didn’t come this many times. At least, none that Aryana knew of. What was he?
“What do you need, Aryana?” he growled.
She rolled her hips against the bed. “Zarathos, please.”
He chuckled. “Do you ache for me, little vampire?”
“Yes, oh, gods, yes.” She’d never been so desperate for anything in her life. She felt as if she’d die if she didn’t feel him between her legs.
“Patience.” He leaned forward and murmured in her ear. “Tonight, I set the pace.”
She whimpered again and this time bit his arm, drawing more of that lovely crimson fluid.
He uttered a soft curse, but then he was rubbing all the harder, shoving her breasts against the covers.
Everything was rubbing until he spilled against her.
Then he was pressing against her ass, forcing her hips harder and harder into the blankets.
Her legs spread and the burning between her thighs heightened as the ecstasy built.
This time when he came, she released his arm and cried out as she tipped over the edge of the cliff with him.
She panted, grasping against the silken sheets. He’d made her come just by shoving her into the damn bedding.
“Did you enjoy that?” Something soft and smooth roved up her leg, gliding over her skin. It poked carefully, stroking her opening. Was that… Zarathos had a tail he’d kept hidden in his trousers? She moaned. Whatever it was, it felt so good.
He pulled her up off the bed and turned her to face him. She took in his hard cock, gods and his tail, long and thin, whipping behind him, reminding her of a cat playing with his prey.
Was Zarathos having… fun?