Page 168 of Disillusioned
Emma made an incredulous sound. “Why at this hour?”
As their hushed conversation moved back into the hallway, Garin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lilac sidestepped him and cupped his face; he was drooling, his forehead once again frosted in cold sweat.
“You’re more than hungry, Garin,” she said, alarmed. “I think you’re sick.”
“My hungeristhe sickness.” He wiped his mouth again and straightened until he loomed over her.
“What do you need? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Take caution in your generous offers, Ms. Trécesson.”
There were more voices outside now, barely heard beyond the immense rush of her pulse. Panicked, Lilac pressed her ear to the door.
Myrddin was among them. “I saw him last night on my way to the washroom. We’ll find him.”
“Thank you dear,” Emma replied. “You are so kind.”
Garin’s arms encased her from behind. “All I can think of,” he said into her ear, “is sinking my teeth into your supple flesh. The way you look in my coat doesn’t help one bit. A distraction would be much appreciated.”
Lilac laughed at the irony. He expected her to distract him from something she wanted herself. But, for his benefit, she would try. “Speaking of your pitiful disguise, where is Albrecht?”
Garin’s mouth rose at the corner. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”
“Fine. Last summer I sucked Rupert’s cock in this very closet.”
His smile vanished.
“A few times.” She watched greedily as a delicious darkness swallowed his teasing.
Garin exhaled and attempted to blink his thoughts away; whatever they were. “What is wrong with you?”
The door knob jiggled. He immediately released her; in their bickering, they hadn’t been paying attention.
“Perhaps they’re—” Myrddin swung the door wide open and saw Lilac barricading herself in front of Garin, saliva dripping from his fangs. The warlock’s eyes bulged when they fell upon Ciel’s crumpled corpse in the corner, Lilac’s bruised handprint around his crushed throat. “Nope!” Myrddin hastily shut the door, casting them in darkness once more. “There’s nothing in there but a few old coats.”
A flash of color blinded them. The doorknob glowed violet before gradually fading.
“No.” Garin gripped it, twisting and pushing. “Fuck. Myrddin!”
Lilac shushed him, but he slammed his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge—and no one came running to check on them.
“I’ll open the armory for you,” Myrddin was saying, his voice back in the hall. “Stand back now!” A loud blast shook the room; shouts were heard as dust rained down on them.
Lilac licked her lips, unable to tear her eyes from Garin’s wrists—the veins popping there and the way he grunted as he strangled the knob. If he jostled it more, he’d make too much noise and they’d be discovered. Or, the handle might come off.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to care about being locked in a closet with a starving vampire. All she could focus on was the thinness of her kirtle. How easily he could bunch it at her thighs and access her.
More footsteps sounded outside, and shouting. There was her father’s alarmed shout among some of the staff. Doors were opening in the hall, Gertrude, Helena, and Agnes chattering groggily.
Agitated, Garin lifted and flexed his fingers, seeming unsure of where to put them. “I’ve never met someone more bent on tempting their own fate, or?—”
Lilac reached for him before she knew what was happening. She swallowed thickly and fumbled with the clasp of his belt. A desolate sound rasped from Garin’s throat. It wasn’t protest—and not quite alarm, either—as she slipped her hand down the front of his pants.
Unsurprisingly, he was already hard.
“Or?” She arched against him, kissing his neck, sucking his flesh lightly into her mouth. The tip was deliciously wet; Lilac smeared it down his head.
“Or going out of their way to chase after it.” He groaned deeply. “Have you no semblance of self-preservation?”
