Page 32 of Their Blood Queen

My lungs refuse to cooperate, so that sensation is similar, but it’s for an entirely different reason.

The creature is intimidating, but he hasn’t tried to hurt me. Instead of doing anything threatening in nature, he’s paused just out of reach.

And he’s watching me as if waiting for me to respond.

And he knows my name.

Realization dawns on me when I look at his face instead of his monstrous cock.

His eyes are made up of shards of glass, reflecting my own face back at me.

What’s odd is that I have the same kind of eyes.

This is definitely the strangest dream I’ve ever had.

And I feel far too lucid to be dreaming, but maybe the stress of signing a blood contract to become Earl Rinhold’s future wife has sent me careening off the deep end.

Or maybe it’s the magic from the blood contract doing this.

I know how blood contracts work. Elite families who want an agreement to be magically binding use a monster’s blood to do so.

And, apparently, that seems to be having an effect on me.

Swallowing the scream instead of releasing it, I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth and attempt a reply. “Um, it’s… large,” I say with an awkward smile. Because he’d just asked me if I liked what I saw—and I assumed he meant the very large cock I’d been staring at.

My answer makes him chuckle.

Even though I’d been staring, it’s not because I haven’t seen male genitalia before. Even if I am still technically a virgin, I know what it looks like.

Well, maybe not this figment’s particular appendage, but in general.

What liaisons I’ve had in the past were brief and rushed. Like most Ladies, I’m often trailed by a chaperone if I venture out on an engagement of any sort.

And in my case, that chaperone has often been my brother.

He’s never cared about my purity. In fact, he would use me to gain blackmail over other Earls and possible enemies.

Or even allies, with the intention of turning on them.

Even if I found someone I was interested in, the act could never go too far. It would ruin any potential marriage if I really lost my virginity. It had to go just far enough to be scandalous, then my brother would have blackmail over both the target and me.

Whore.

Slut.

You would just give it up for anyone if I let you, wouldn’t you?

My cheeks burn with shame and anger as I recall those memories.

Because there were a few times I had found pleasure in those engagements. They weren’t forced. I was a poor actress and incredibly bored.

Spoiled brat.

Teasing my beaux of the moment sounded like fun, at the time. But now I realize how young and stupid I had been to let my brother use me that way.

The beast is watching me and a soft, rumbling growl has grown in his chest. The vibrations of it seem to disturb the shadows that usually accompany my nightmares, but it’s making them shrivel and curl away instead of grow like they normally do.

His muscles bunch and flex, rippling in a fascinating way that betrays raw anger.

---