Page 38 of Their Blood Queen

I do feel faint. I haven’t slept. And despite the circular trays of finger sandwiches and silver bowls of fruit for today’s breakfast, I haven’t eaten. Attempting it might just suffocate me entirely because my backup hosting corset is even tighter than my others, given that it was fitted for me years ago.

Duchess Rinhold offers me an empathetic smile and pats my other hand, which is on the table. I had been reaching for my tea, but now I awkwardly flatten my palm against the surface as she makes a show of consoling me.

She thinks I’m overwhelmed by the honor of a courtship with her son. Her thoughts are written all over her face.

Poor dear. She probably has no sexual experience at all. A courtship with such a sexually active man as the future Duke of the Rinhold family must be too much. Her father should have better prepared her. My Edward will be watched too closely to make use of his mistresses for at least the first year or two. She’s going to have to step it up if she’s to produce an heir.

I can’t hear her voice in my head, but I still somehow know what she’s thinking.

Like the Earl of Rinhold’s first name being Edward—a fact I’ve never come across before.

And the better known detail that he’s apparently a sexual deviant.

That, rumor can confirm.

It’s a bit unnerving how she thinks of her son as some sort of prized stud and I’m a mare to be bred. But when it comes to my experiences, her thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’m not naïve. And if anyone had prepared me for the realities of marriage, it was the creature in my dreams.

My cheeks heat as I wonder what she might say if she knew I was feeling faint due to reliving the most intense orgasm of my life, which had happened while I was asleep.

“Yes, of course you’re feeling faint, my dear,” she says with a gentle tone as her fingers skitter up my arm and trail around the three red scars still embedded in my skin. One will disappear tonight and has already started to fade. “You’re still wearing the countdown marks, and I know they can take a toll,” she adds, hinting that she, too, found her husband by means of a blood contract, “but you best get used to it. You’ll wear more, each numbered for the days of courtship when the timer starts anew.”

My eyes widen.

I did not know that.

“Where?” I blurt. The three slashes have already taken up my entire forearm. I’m not sure where I’d fit thirty.

She shrugs. “It varies. Rumor is that they’ll appear on your erogenous zones, but they’ll be less dramatic. Don’t worry.”

She doesn’t confirm if her marks had been on her erogenous zones, not that I’d want to know either way.

A swallow sticks in my throat. “Erogenous zones?” I repeat.

Dear Cain, does she not even know what the word means? her narrowed eyes seem to say.

“I assume you don’t know where yours are,” she says aloud instead, thankfully not defining the word for me as she continues, “but it gives your suitor something to work with.” She smiles at me as if that should inform me of the word’s definition, then pats me again. “The Magic Sector has a lower fertility rate, but it doesn’t mean you can’t get started right away once you’re wed.” Her long lashes flutter as she sips her tea, giving me a moment to digest the news that I’m supposed to produce a child as soon as possible. She finally looks me right in the face. “Your family has done well to keep you pure, but a lack of experience might provide frustrations for a new couple. Wouldn’t it be helpful if things could be… enjoyable? Hence the placement of the marks among your erogenous zones so that you don’t have to say a word.” She gives me a soft smile. “Perks of a blood contract, dear.”

The Duchess’s crude conversation doesn’t faze me. I am fully aware of the expectations of a married woman in an Elite family.

My cheeks heat for an entirely different reason.

Am I to assume that Earl Rinhold cares so little of female anatomy that he needs a road map of how to make me orgasm? The figment in my dreams didn’t need any guidance.

Why do I keep comparing the two?

My dreams aren’t real. Earl Rinhold very much is.

“Did I hear something about erogenous zones?” a silky male voice asks as the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life walks through the doorway.

I blink up at the gorgeous specimen of a male, staring for a bit longer than I should, but I can’t look away.

I had not expected Earl Rinhold to be beautiful.

Rumor had circulated of his attractive appearance—likely enhanced by magic at birth—but rumor can’t always be believed. No one looks like the culmination of every woman’s desire made into flesh.

In this case, though, the rumor seems to be accurate. That’s exactly what he looks like.

---