22. Bryony
brYONY
The chain was cutting into Stellan’s throat, and he was still pulling it tighter.
Blood covered his chest. His face had lost what little colour it usually held, and the hand wrapped in iron wouldn’t open. The Crown burned red over the throne, but the rest of Harrowmere had gone quiet.
“Let go,” I said.
His eyes stayed on me. “Stay back.”
The words came out broken. I ignored them and crossed the witness rail.
“Bryony.”
“The red command is dead. Adrian can’t move you now.”
“The Crown can.” He pulled the chain another inch. Blood ran over the collar. “Get into Cecily’s room.”
I stopped outside his reach and looked at the iron ring beside the throne. He’d looped the throat chain through it before winding the loose length around his fist. The Crown could still tug at the collar, but Adrian’s red light had gone from the links.
“You came through a wall after me,” I said. “You discovered on the first night that I don’t follow stupid orders.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “I was distracted by your blood.”
His voice broke on the last word. I stepped onto the loose chain and pinned it to the floor with my boot.
“Harrowmere,” I said, keeping my attention on the Crown. “Stellan Varen acted to protect the royal heir. Release the command in his collar.”
The red points over the throne dimmed. The collar remained tight, but Stellan’s shoulders dropped a fraction.
“Again,” he rasped. “Name the sentence.”
I remembered the words carved into the prison wall. “Suspend the Blood King’s sentence while he protects me from the Crown. No command may use his body against mine.”
White light ran across the floor and reached the ring. The iron opened with a hard click.
Stellan’s fist stayed closed.
I crouched in front of him and put the sword down within reach. “It’s open.”
“The Crown is waiting for me to release it.”
I waited until his eyes found mine.
His breathing had become a thin scrape, and his eyes were almost black with hunger. I put my hand over his fist. The iron under my palm was slick with his blood.
“Adrian is outside,” I said. “His command is gone. I’m standing here because I chose to come closer. Open your hand.”
His fingers unlocked one at a time. I took the chain from them and pulled it free of the ring. The loose links hit the floor, and the collar finally slackened.
Stellan dragged in a breath. He swayed towards me, caught himself with one hand and ended up on both knees.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I caught his face between my hands. The cuts around his neck were deep. One crossed an old scar and refused to close. The wound along his ribs had opened too, soaking the side of his shirt.
“Tell me exactly how much blood you need,” I said. “You’re on your knees, your wounds are open and I can see you need more than a mouthful.”
His focus dropped to my wrist. “Enough to close my throat and ribs. That’s more than I’ll take when you’ve already bled for the court.”
He tried. His arm shook, and he dropped back onto his heel.
I held out my wrist. Stellan stared at it, then at me.
“You lost blood when the gate cut you,” he said.
I glanced at his stained clothes. “It was a scratch. You’ve turned the front of your trousers into a crime scene.”
His gaze dipped, but the humour vanished when his arm shook again.
I picked up the short sword, pressed the tip to the cut Adrian’s gate had left in my palm and opened it again. Stellan’s nostrils flared. His fangs dropped at once.
“You destroyed every inch of freedom my blood gave you,” I said. “You did it knowing I was angry and might never give you more. Don’t make that choice useless because you’re trying to be noble five minutes too late.”
“This isn’t nobility. I can smell how much you’ve already lost.”
“Then take enough to heal and stop.”
I put my bleeding palm against his mouth.
His eyes closed. He held my wrist with both hands and drank.
The first pull hurt. The second sent heat down my spine. I moved closer without planning to, until my knees touched his thighs. His tongue pressed over the cut between each deep draw, and the pain softened into a slow pulse that reached every sensitive part of me.
Stellan’s throat worked under the damaged collar. The cuts began to close. Colour returned to his mouth, and the tremor left his hands.
He stopped while my head was still clear. His tongue sealed the cut, then he lowered my wrist and kept hold of it.
“Enough,” he said.
“Are you healed? Give me the useful answer.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “The wound at my ribs will take longer. My throat is closed, and I can stand. You’ve given me enough.”
I accepted the answer.
Stellan rose carefully. The waist chain followed him, scraped over the broken floor and tightened when he was a step away from me. He looked at the blood on my hand, then tore a clean strip from the bottom of his shirt and wrapped my palm.
“I meant what I said,” he told me. “Coming through that wall doesn’t repair what I did, and it buys me nothing. You don’t owe me trust, blood or your body because I bled for you.”
He secured the bandage and kept my hand in his. “When you called my name, I moved. I didn’t weigh the cost, and I didn’t expect anything in return. It doesn’t cancel what came before, but I want you to know which man is here now.”
“I know. That would be easier to dismiss.”
“I’m also not asking you to forget the man I was when you arrived.”
I flexed my fingers while he tied the cloth. “You’re making this difficult.”
“Honesty often is.”
“No, the difficult part is that I’m still angry and I still want you.”
His hands went still around mine.
“I know which man is here now,” I said. “I also remember the one who met me at the bottom of the stairs and decided my fear made me easy to handle. You don’t get to cut him away from the man who came through the wall.
If we keep going, I’m judging all of you by what you do next.
I’m not promising where that leaves us.”
Stellan kissed my bandaged palm. “I can live with that. I’ll answer whatever you ask, even when the truth costs me. Where this leaves us will be your decision.”
I held his gaze. “I’m still angry. I still want you.”
His thumb pressed once against the middle of my palm.
“I’m choosing what happens next with all the facts I have now,” I continued. “Don’t mistake that for forgiveness, and don’t use it to hurry me towards the Crown. Tonight, I want the vampire who came through the wall.”
Stellan released my bandaged hand. “If I touch you now, I’m taking control. I want you naked on that throne, under my mouth and around my cock. You can stay furious while I make you come.”
The rough promise made my cunt clench. I caught the remains of his shirt and pulled him down until his mouth was close to mine.
“Then take it.”
He kissed me hard.
The restraint he’d shown while feeding vanished. One hand closed around the back of my neck, and the other gripped my hip. He took my mouth until I was pressed against him and breathing through my nose because he wouldn’t give me enough room for anything else.
I opened for his tongue and slid my hands over his bare chest. The blood on his skin had cooled. Under it, his body was firm and warm from what he’d taken from me.
Stellan broke the kiss and looked down at me, his fangs still out. He caught both my wrists in one hand and held them against my chest while his gaze moved over me. “Mine to enjoy tonight.”
My body answered before I could. My thighs pressed together, and his grip tightened on my hip.
His mouth returned to mine.
I reached for the hem of my jumper. He turned me, pushed my hair over one shoulder and pulled the soft knit over my head himself. His knuckles brushed my back as he unfastened my bra. He kissed the unbitten side of my neck and drew one fang over my skin without breaking it.
“Fuck, Stellan.”
“I know.” His hand slid around my waist and closed over my breast. “You’ve been angry with me for hours, and you’re already wet.”
“Those things aren’t related.”
“They don’t need to be.”
He worked my leggings down over my hips. I stepped out of them and kicked them away. My bra followed, then my knickers. The throne room stayed dark and silent around us. No light moved under my feet. Harrowmere had no place in what we were doing.
Stellan lifted me onto the throne. The cold seat made me gasp. He spread my knees and stepped between them, naked from the waist up, his trousers stained with blood and stretched over an erection that made my mouth dry.
He guided my hands to the carved arms and let his palms travel back down my body. Anticipation tightened low in my stomach.
My fingers closed around the carved ends as he knelt.
I got wetter at the sight. Stellan Varen, the Blood King who refused to kneel for the Crown, went down willingly between my open legs. The waist chain lay over his hip and ran back to the dais. His silver hair brushed my thigh as he lowered his head.
His first lick was slow and broad. I gripped the throne harder. He opened me with his thumbs and did it again, keeping his eyes on my face while his tongue passed over my clit.
“Fuck.”
His eyes darkened.
He closed his mouth around me and sucked. My hips lifted off the seat. Stellan held them down and used his tongue until the pleasure stopped building slowly and turned sharp.
I pulled one hand from the throne and caught his hair.
He caught my wrist and returned it to the carved arm without lifting his mouth far from me.
Heat rushed through me. I tightened my grip on the throne and opened my legs wider.
He smiled against the inside of my thigh, then bit the soft skin there. The sting made me jerk. He soothed it with his tongue and returned to my clit.
He knew exactly how hard to suck and when to ease off. Each time I got close, he slowed until I was shaking against the throne.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” I said.
Stellan lifted his head. His mouth was wet, and his eyes had turned dark again. “I’m enjoying how badly you want to touch me.”
“You noticed.”
He slid one finger through my wetness, watching my body open for him. “You’re still angry, and you’re dripping for me.”
“Both are true,” I said, breathless. “I’ve waited long enough.”
Two fingers pushed inside me, slid deep and curled into the place that made my legs shake.
His free hand held my thigh open as the pressure broke.
He sucked my clit and moved his fingers harder. I came with his name torn out of me. My body clenched around his hand, and he didn’t stop until I twisted away from the pressure.
Stellan rose between my legs. I reached for his trousers, but he caught my wrist and pressed it back against the throne.
The control in his face made heat rush through me again.
“I remember,” I said. “I’m not complaining.”
He opened his trousers without releasing my gaze.
He freed his cock. I’d felt his fingers inside me already, but his cock was going to be another matter. He was thick, hard and slick at the tip.
Stellan ran his hand down his length and caught my gaze.
He held it as he stepped closer.
“I want to watch you take every inch.”
One practical question survived the heat. “Pregnancy?”
“Impossible without a fertility rite. Both of us would have to choose it.”
That was enough. I hooked my ankles behind him and pulled him closer.
He gripped my hips, pulled me to the edge of the throne and pushed inside.
I cried out. He gave me one breath to adjust, then drove deeper. The angle put every stroke where I needed it. My hands slipped on the polished arms as he set a hard pace.
The chain at his waist struck the side of the throne. He ignored it. His gaze stayed on mine while he fucked me, and the force of each thrust pushed me higher against the carved back.
“You feel fucking perfect,” he said. “Tight, wet and still furious with me. I’m going to fuck you until that anger is the only thought you can hold on to. Then I’m going to listen when it all comes back, because I’m done hiding from it.”
“Very fucking furious.”
“I can work with that.”
He hooked my knees over his arms and opened me wider. The new position made every movement deeper. I held the throne and took him while the pleasure rose again.
His mouth found my breast. He sucked my nipple, caught it lightly with one fang and released it without drawing blood. I arched towards him.
His mouth closed harder around my nipple, and his cock drove deep enough to pull his name from me.
“Stellan.” The name echoed through the empty court.
His control cracked.
I said it louder as he drove into me faster, his fingers digging into my thighs while his cock filled me again and again.
His hand slid between us.
His fingers circled my clit, then he caught my jaw and kissed me. His fangs pressed against my lower lip while his thrusts stayed hard.
My climax hit hard. I cried into his mouth and tightened around him. He thrust twice more, buried himself deep and came with a rough curse against my lips.
We stayed together while my breathing slowed. Stellan rested his forehead against mine. His hands remained firm on my thighs, holding me in place without asking for anything else.
“Still furious?” he asked.
“Yes. The sex was excellent. Your plan was still bloody awful.”
His mouth brushed mine. “A good fuck doesn’t wipe anything clean. Be angry for as long as you need. Just don’t lie to me about wanting me.”
The chain at his waist gave a small scrape across the floor.
I looked past him. “That isn’t entirely your decision.”
Stellan followed my gaze to the iron running back to the dais. “Harrowmere and I have disagreed before.”
“How did that work out?”
“You found me chained under a house.”
I laughed despite myself. He kissed me once, softer this time, then pulled out and helped me down from the throne.
We dressed without hurry. Stellan used what remained of his shirt to clean the blood from his chest, leaving the tattoos and old scars exposed. The fresh cuts at his throat had closed, although the collar still sat against the damaged skin.
I picked up the sword. “Can you reach Cecily’s room?”
“The waist chain stops me at the broken wall,” he said.
I touched the loose iron at his throat. “And this one?”
“It runs to the throne, but Harrowmere gave it more length when you suspended the sentence. It will follow me into the passage.”
“Then we deal with the waist chain next.” I picked up the sword.
He looked towards the hole he’d torn through the wall. “After you.”
I walked across the throne room. Stellan stayed close behind me until the waist chain tightened. Iron scraped over stone, and his steps stopped.
The broken entrance to Cecily’s room waited less than a metre away.
I turned. “You lost all that progress getting through the wall.”
“Every inch,” he said.
“Any regrets?”
His gaze moved over my face. “None.”
I held out my hand. “Then try again.”
He took it and stepped forwards.
The waist chain snapped.
The broken length struck the floor behind him. Stellan stared at it, then crossed the ruined threshold with my hand still in his.
For the first time in a century, the Blood King walked out of the throne room.