Chapter 23 #2
She allowed him to touch her, let his hands grab and squeeze wherever he pleased.
She played the part. She let him do what he wanted.
“I realized that we are alike in many ways. Stubborn, passionate, and defiant.” She let out a sharp gasp when his thumb and forefinger closed over her nipple.
“I realized that starting over didn’t seem like such a bad idea. ”
Everand nodded slowly, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as she pulled away and guided him towards the dinette.
She moved to open the bottle of wine for them, but his hand closed over hers, taking the bottle from her.
“Go lay on the bed.” He said gruffly. “I’ll do this.
” Nymiria did as she was asked, being sure to trail her hand over his arm as she went.
She knew that he was pouring the drink because he didn’t trust her.
But that was good, too. Because the wine had nothing to do with her plan at all.
She crawled up the length of the bed, propping herself up on the pillows and watched as Everand approached. He handed her both glasses of wine and then began removing his clothing, his eyes never leaving hers.
It was not sexual. It was a test. He was seeing how far he could take things before she broke. But Nymiria was skilled in what she did. She’d seduced hundreds of men and she’d successfully killed every single target Dorid assigned to her. Save for one.
When Everand was left in nothing, but his undershorts, his cock hard and proud underneath them, he climbed onto the bed beside her.
Nymiria handed him his glass, offering him a bashful smile.
“I want to start over, Everand. And I wasn’t sure how to convince you to believe that I was being truthful, so…
I figured this could be a testament.” She looked down at herself again, trailing her fingers over the sheer crotch of the lingerie.
“I don’t give myself to people freely, you know?
I have only been with two other people and I loved them both dearly.
” It was a small lie. She’d been with far more men than just Owen and Aziel.
But, if she were being honest, she could hardly remember the men she’d had after Owen’s death.
She was usually inebriated. Everand didn’t need to know that, though.
She could see the somber look in his eyes, a man whose ego was starting to bruise.
Everand was the type of person who didn’t want to hear about his woman’s past loves, for he would always feel the need to compare himself to them—always feeling incompetent.
And he would be. “Are you alright?” She asked.
“You seem tense.” Everand shook his head, but Nymiria was already moving.
She crawled onto his lap, moving her hand over his shoulder and up into his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp.
His hardness jumped underneath her. “Here,” Nymiria turned up the glass of wine in her other hand, pouring every ounce of it into her mouth before leaning down and pressing her lips to his.
Everand opened to her immediately, taking in every drop of wine and swallowing it down.
Nymiria snatched his glass from him and lifted it to his lips.
His eyes were greedy, blazing with desire as he drank from his glass.
Once it had been emptied and a small drop of wine ran along his chin, Nymiria leaned down, dragging her tongue over it before she thrust it into his mouth.
He sucked on it before crushing her against his chest, his hands greedily tugging at the lace.
Her stomach curled, her grip on his hair getting tighter, as if it could stave off the urge for her to cringe against him.
But it worked. He was putty in her hands, his body already moving against hers in search of friction.
She held back as much as possible, counting in her head to distract herself from what he was doing underneath her.
“Wait–” She panted, breaking away from their kiss.
Everand stared up at her, confusion clouding his lust. “What?” He bit out.
Nymiria leaned over, gripping the vial on the night-stand.
“I had Raina deliver this tincture from Hilla. It’s a stimulant.
A potent one. From what I’ve learned, a full-fae woman goes into a sort of fertility cycle that heightens pheromones and arousal.
This gives the same effect. Women and men use it during caddat in other countries.
A mating ceremony, of sorts.” She unscrewed the lid, turning it up to her lips.
The liquid settled into her cheek, just a small amount that she pretended to swallow before handing it to him.
The prince eyed the vial and with one look in her direction, turned the entire thing up and drank from it greedily.
He tossed the glass bottle to the floor and the moment she heard the glass splinter, Everand was flipping her onto her stomach.
Nymiria let the liquid in her mouth spill out onto the duvet, wiping her tongue on the fabric just as he ripped apart the lace that covered her lower half.
She felt his grip on her ass weaken, felt the swaying of his body behind her.
Nymiria tensed, expecting some sort of realization to befall him, but the moment she turned to look at him, Everand was falling backwards off of the bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud that shook everything in the room.
She’d maintained the rhythm of her heart for hours, but as soon as Nymiria saw him passed out on the floor, she let out a small cry of joy, her heart pounding as she scrambled off of the bed.
She ripped the choker and earrings off of her body, tearing at the lace until it was in shreds on the floor.
Moving as quickly as possible, she grabbed the dress that’d been left for her earlier that day and slipped it on, not even bothering with finding shoes before she ran towards the balcony.
Aziel had made it look so easy when he’d climbed off of the balcony.
She figured that it would be no different, given the similar architecture of the two palaces, but she quickly learned that it took far more strength than she’d initially anticipated.
Still, she climbed down the railings, threw herself onto the fabric canopy that covered the veranda, clamping her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, and then rolled off onto the lawn.
The wind left her body in a painful gust, ribs aching and stomach in her throat as she scrambled to her feet.
She could hardly breathe—couldn’t even pant properly as she stumbled towards the gate on the far side of the courtyard, but as soon as she reached the metal and unlatched the gate, she threw herself onto the path and laid there for a moment, trying to regain her strength.
When she was able to draw in even breaths, Nymiria rose to her feet and started running again.
Her fist pounded against the door with bruising force. Over and over and over again until, finally, Hilla was standing in front of her with a sword drawn in her direction.
“Nymiria, what in the three hells—”
“Aziel.” She gasped. “Where is Aziel?”
Hilla shook her head, her brow furrowed with shock and confusion as Nymiria shouldered past her and into the palace. “He’s gone, Nymiria. Everyone has been searching for you for nearly two weeks! Where the hell have you been?”
"Nearly two weeks?" She exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief.
It all felt impossible. It felt horrific.
She'd been under the impression that she had only been gone for a few days. Nymiria whirled around, prepared to spill the truth, but that noose tightened on her throat again, rendering her voice useless. She shook her head and moved forward again. “Where is Dieve? Can you get me to Dieve or Phyona? It’s an emergency, Hilla. I need them.”
With a quick glance around the foyer, Hilla gripped Nymiria’s arm and tugged her back into the night.
The women ran towards the forest, past the God Stone and the Anam altar where Aziel had offered his blood to her, past the cracked and broken Mortem altar mere yards away.
They hurdled over fallen trees, stumbled over roots and branches, until the image of a cabin came into view.