Chapter 31 The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
Elizabeth paused in the doorway, her pulse quickening at the sight of Caspian alone at the table.
Mammond, Finnigan, and Asmodeus were all notably absent tonight, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the scuffles of servants setting trays of food and goblets on the table.
The silence felt intimate in a way, and Caspian fixed his gaze on her as she made her way to her seat.
To her surprise, she noted that Caspian also had a plate set in front of him tonight, and he smiled tightly at her as she sat down, a warmer welcome than she typically received.
She eyed him warily, wondering where Asmodeus and Mammond were, if they were in the castle or if they were out hunting.
Dinner was served, a cut of roast for her, and to her surprise, Caspian was also served a dish.
On his plate was a cut of red meat much less well done than hers, nearly raw and oozing red.
She watched in fascination as he ate a few bites of meat but pushed the root vegetables and leafy greens around on his plate.
He tried a leaf and wrinkled his nose, returning his attention to the meat.
He caught her staring and smiled tensely again. His smile looked stiff and cold, but he was clearly making an effort to look less intimidating tonight. She wondered why.
It was a nice change, she supposed, not to be the only one eating. Without him drinking blood that stained his teeth red, she wasn’t constantly reminded of what he was. She could almost pretend that she was dining with a man, and not a demon.
She hesitated and couldn’t stop herself from asking, “I thought you couldn’t eat mortal food.”
“We are carnivores. Hunters. Red meat is okay—it doesn’t taste like it did when I was mortal— but I can stomach it.”
“Er. What happens if you eat a vegetable or a dinner roll?”
Caspian raised a brow.
She slid her plate closer to him. “Indulge my curiosity?”
He elegantly speared a piece of carrot and stuck it in his mouth.
She watched, fascinated, as he frowned and chewed. His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. “Like eating charcoal. Your body reminds you that you are not mortal at every turn if you try.”
After she finished eating, he rose and offered her his arm. Brusquely, he said, “I’ll walk you back to your chambers.”
She slipped her elbow through his, and they walked together through the castle. An awkward silence fell between them. He turned to her as they climbed the stairs. “What are you reading today?”
She glanced at him, wondering why the sudden interest in small talk. “Nothing that you would find interesting, I’m sure.”
“Try me,” he challenged.
She smiled and chose not to answer. She had learned her lesson the first time.
They walked in silence for a moment, and he took another brave stab at conversation. “So, your family, are they well?”
“I’m sure they are, but I haven’t heard from them very much. My father hasn’t written to me again. My mother writes once a week, always to tell me to come to my senses and return home.”
They reached her door, and he stood on the landing, making no effort to leave. She placed her fingers on the handle, wondering if there was a chance he had forgotten it was supposed to be the night she gave him blood.
“It’s our night together,” he reminded her gently.
So much for that idea. “It is.”
He stood still as a statue, as if waiting for some signal.
She looked around the hall and asked hesitantly, “I suppose you’d like to come inside?”
He nodded solemnly. “I would like that.”
Soon, she stood across from Caspian in her chamber, and he closed the door behind him. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the stillness. Her chamber felt much smaller with him in it, and the air grew thick with tension. Was he also thinking about the last time he was here?
Her mouth grew dry, and she fidgeted with the beading on her bodice, wishing him to feed from her quickly and begone.
“You look lovely tonight,” Caspian said, his voice a touch deeper than usual.
He looked good too. His long hair had been smoothed back, with only a small piece escaping, and he wore his customary dark tunic, which showed off the broad planes of his chest. She would never admit it out loud, of course, but if he had been a mortal, she would have found him to be the most attractive man she had ever seen.
But he was a demon, and there could be no beard that would ever make up for the things he’d done.
She waited for him to say something else, but he was silent, and standing so still, she wasn’t sure that he was even breathing.
“We will do as you wish tonight.”
She gave a choked laugh. “I am not forced? What happened to ‘you own me’ and me being forced to fulfill the terms of our bargain?”
“Not tonight. We will do what you want,” he said slowly. “Only what you want.”
Her eyes flicked up and down his frame.
He looked at her hungrily but made no move towards her. He watched her like a hunter, waiting for his prey to come to him.
He did not appear weak, but rather content to wait. Like he would have waited a hundred years for her to touch him. And even then, only if she wanted to. The air between them grew heavy as her thoughts warred.
She glanced at his chest, his shoulders, then back to his face. They stood in silence, devouring each other with their eyes. Would it be so horrible to kiss him once more? After all, they had kissed before, and nothing bad happened.
After a long moment, left in the comfort of making her own decisions, she decided she did want to kiss him again. She stepped towards him.
She placed a hand tentatively on his chest. “Anything I want?” she asked softly, raising a brow.
A firm nod. She splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her hand. His skin was warm, almost feverish. “Is this what you want?” she asked, tilting her head up to his.
He was silent and unmoving before her. A statue of marble.
Her fingers traced his shoulder, then down his arm corded with muscle.
She touched his beard, his jaw, then threaded her fingers through his thick, wavy, dark hair.
Circling him with her arms, she leaned into the nook above his shoulder and inhaled his scent—woodsmoke, and expensive soap.
His arms encircled her loosely, and she tilted her face to look at him; they were almost nose to nose.
She felt warm all over and could think of nothing but the idea of his lips upon hers.
“And if this is all I want?” she said, her voice breathless.
“Then, this is all it will be,” he said gruffly.
“Good answer,” she murmured against his lips, and then she kissed him.
His lips were gentle against hers, letting her decide, and she found she wanted more. She placed a hand upon his jaw and drew him closer, kissing him harder. Capturing his lower lip, she boldly bit it on a whim.
It was all the answer Caspian needed as he wrapped his arms around her, their lips still melded together. He picked her up off the ground and gently placed her on the bed.
“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he said, asking as if her answer was the most important thing in the world.
“I want you,” she said simply.
He shook his head, smirking. She pulled at his shirt, a silent order, and he obliged her, slipping it off. He looked pointedly at her gown with its many petticoats and layers.
“You will have to help me.” She gestured at the corset, smiling.
He stood and opened his arms. She rose and stepped into his embrace. His lips met hers, and as he kissed her, his fingers deftly found the laces of her corset and began to undo them. With a few strategic tugs, her gown slipped to the floor.
She raised a brow as she stepped out of her skirts, in nothing but her undergarments, the fabric thin and flimsy.
She looked at him with suspicion. That was ... fast. This was not the first time he had removed a gown, petticoats, and a corset in such a fashion. The thought made her narrow her gaze in envy.
The corner of his lip tugged upwards.
He guided her to the bed, and his lips found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders.
She felt the ghost of his breath over her decolletage before the press of his mouth.
Each kiss was deliberate, reverent, as if he were memorizing the taste of her skin.
He kissed up her throat, his beard scraping against her jaw, sending shivers down her spine.
She knew it was wrong to want him—this creature who hunted innocents—but logic didn’t hold a candle to the fire coursing through her veins. Every rational thought dissolved under the weight of his touch, and she could think of nothing but how much she ached to have his arms around her.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, down her abdomen, his lips leaving a trail of warmth. He pulled away, wordlessly offering her a last chance to stop it.
“Well?” she demanded.
He chuckled darkly against her flesh and kissed lower, moving the fabric out of the way. He knelt before her, his breath warm against her skin.
She shimmied out of her undergarments and lay naked before him.
He kissed the front of her thigh, her inner thigh, and oh.
He pressed his lips to her most tender flesh, and her body jolted. He stroked her lightly, and his tongue was sin itself. She let out a low sound, lost in bliss. She glanced down—his eyes locked on her face as he teased her, each stroke of his tongue slow and deliberate.
He smiled wickedly, then he buried his face between her legs.
Pleasure rippled through her, and she shifted her hips, chasing the sensation.
He swirled his tongue over her with expertise, her hand coming to rest feebly atop his head.
The demon had sin down to a form of art; she had to give him that.
The visual of his face between her thighs—his exquisitely handsome face, doing the dirtiest things to her imaginable sent her over the edge. She tensed in places, her lower abdomen growing warm and molten.
Suddenly, he withdrew and rose, kneeling between her legs and staring at her.