Page 2 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Ariadne bit her lip to keep from smiling when she glanced up at Azriel, no doubt recalling her escapade at the Drifter’s Inn and Bistro which had become something of a joke between them. She’d later explained that the whole ordeal had been a way for her to cope with the prospect of marrying that horrible excuse for a general. The scar below his eye from where she punched him, however, remained a matter of discomfort for her.

“You’re too kind,” Azriel said, giving Ariadne’s hand a squeeze.

She squeezed back and added, “Thank you for your diligent care. I look forward to visiting you all soon.”

Petre’s face flushed, and he bowed low. “We shall keep the manor in top shape while you’re away.”

Azriel held out his hand to the Rusan, who stared at him in surprise before they clasped forearms. He never did like the distance vampires put between the Society and…everyone else. After all, he’d started in Laeton as one of them. Rising to the title of Lord Governor had never been his plan, yet there he stood on the elite end of the embrace.

“Thank you,” Azriel said and inclined his head to Petre before turning down the front steps. It was all he could think of to say to the man who’d spent a fortnight molding him into a half-decent Caersan following his ascension.

Ariadne followed, her dark blue traveling dress still beautiful despite it being sewn for comfort. Madame Revelie Ives, her good friend and Laeton’s finest Caersan seamstress, had delivered it, along with a few others, several nights prior. There would be no comparison in Monsumbra, he was certain. Revelie’s eye for fabrics and style led the charge in Society’s fashion.

He knew why. He saw it each time Ariadne put on one of the gowns designed by her friend. His stunning wife could make a potato sack look good, but those dresses emphasized every perfect curve in just the right way.

Azriel helped Ariadne into the carriage first, taking his time to inspect those curves as she moved before sliding in after her. She gave him a small smile as the door closed behind them. He’d need to lighten her spirits with such a long journey ahead of them.

Good thing he knew just what to do.

Ariadne watched the Laeton manor disappear as they trundled down the drive. When she had first stepped into the Caldwells’ small estate, she had been filled with anxious anticipation. After a night of sweet elation and excitement, the encroaching day presented much different feelings. Until, of course, Azriel had proven his love and devotion to her in more ways than one.

Now as she left the place she had come to love and call home, a new sensation rose in her chest. While she could not wait to get to Eastwood Province—an area of Valenul she had only visited a couple of times in her life—she also dreaded it. Her father had brought her and Emillie there not long after their mother’s death, tainting its beauty with heavy grief. The only other time she glimpsed the lights of Eastwood’s villages and towns had been from the saddle of Azriel’s horse after he had abducted her.

The memories of those nights with him, though stricken with fear before, were now tinged with a strange sadness. Of course, she still woke from nightmares of the dhemon keep, of being violently dragged from her bedroom. But waking beside the one who had caused that pain with all the understanding she now had lessened the fright. He always awoke with her and whispered the same words: I’m so sorry.

He would spend the rest of his life apologizing. She would spend the rest of hers curling into his arms to reassure him that she understood, even if all that occurred over the course of those nights had hurt her in more ways than one.

Now she rode in the carriage with the same man wearing a different face. He studied her from the seat opposite her, his knees wide to accommodate his long legs in the small space. Something sad stirred in his peridot eyes as though he knew her thoughts and was judging how best to beg for forgiveness once again.

Yet as she opened her mouth to put him at ease once more, Azriel closed the distance between them and silenced her with his lips. The tension melted from her in an instant, replaced with the gentle heat in her core. He had already been out of bed by the time she woke that evening; his ability to withstand the sun allowed him to move about the house as the servants readied it for the night by opening the curtains. She had wanted to find a release for the worry knotting in her chest but had been given none.

So Ariadne welcomed the sudden strike of passion as her husband wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her onto his lap. She grinned against his mouth, straddling his hips and finding him just as ready for her as she was for him.

“I missed you when I woke up,” she confessed breathlessly while he drew his lips across her jaw in a way that made her shudder with anticipation.

Azriel tugged the carriage curtains closed as he kissed her neck. His hands pushed her blue skirt up her thighs, past the dagger strapped to one leg—something she would never travel without again. The touch of his rough palms on her skin sent lightning through her in all the right places. So much so that after a moment, he inhaled deep and growled his approval. Fae senses were incredible.

“You should’ve called me back to bed,” he said in a husky voice, hands shifting to grab her rear and grind her against his erection. “I would’ve been happy to oblige.”

She released a soft breath, catching his mouth with hers again. He groaned against her as she rolled her hips. “Oblige me now?”

“As you wish, my love.” Azriel reached between them, pushing all fabric out of the way so he could reach her bare skin. A hand slid down from her hip to the taut bud. The breath seized in her lungs at the delightful way he swirled his fingers, soft and enticing. When he slipped them between her folds, he hummed and said, “You’re already so wet for me.”

Without a word, she shifted so his fingers were poised at her entrance. He did not hesitate to slip them into her, slow and steady. The heel of his palm worked against her mound as he moved, each stroke gentle to ready her for more. More. Always more.

Moving with him, Ariadne nipped at his lip, drawing just enough blood to lick away. The sweet metallic taste of him energized her. She slid her lips to the shell of his pointed ear before readjusting to his neck and pausing. He tilted his head away, a silent invitation, and she struck. His blood rushed across her tongue before diverting up the hollows of her fangs to seep through her body—the closest thing a vampire had to a bond. Feeling the life source of the one she loved most mixing with her own was a rush no one else in the world could understand. Combined with his fingers pumping in and out of her, she knew of few greater pleasures—except maybe his cock.

When she withdrew a moment later, licking up the trickle that slid down his throat, he cursed under his breath. It would take longer for him to heal than a Caersan vampire, but he never complained. He only looked at her with a fiery intensity before digging his free hand into her hair and pulling her in for another kiss.

Azriel eased his fingers from her, using one hand to unbutton his trousers, each skilled movement brushing along the apex of her thighs and sending jolts of anticipatory pleasure through her. After a few rapid heartbeats, he freed his erection. She rolled her hips again, this time to rub herself along the long, thick length of him. The shift drew a low groan from him. When she reached between them to grasp his cock, she drew her thumb across the wet tip before stroking him long and slow, savoring his velvety skin.

He tilted his head back against the carriage seat, eyes hooded as he watched her bring her thumb to her mouth to lick it clean. “Fuck, Ariadne…”

Returning her attention to his cock, she angled the head of it to her slick entrance and lowered herself onto him. Every inch stretched her so perfectly that she could not contain her soft cry of bliss. His eyes shuttered, and he groaned as she took all of him inside her.

The angle was divine. She moved languidly at first, each rise and fall paired with the perfect pressure of his pelvis on her bud. Each gentle rock of her hips slid the tip of his length along the twin spot in her sex that only heightened the fiery pleasure building in her core.

Azriel let her work, one hand on her waist to hold her dress up and away. His heady gaze followed her as she moved, lips parted just enough to show the tips of his long fangs. How he kept himself so controlled as to not move with her, thrusting hard and deep, she had no idea. Perhaps he merely waited for the right moment. Perhaps he just enjoyed watching her ride him, finding her pleasure through his body. Either way, she knew how much she struggled to do the same, though he never seemed to mind when she begged him for more.

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