Page 225 of Disillusioned
“It softened the burn. Took the edge off the hunger. The rage.” Garin’s gaze dipped to her throat. Her breath caught. “It didn’t cure my desire, but left it to rot.” His nose brushed the side of her throat. “I can always take it from someone else. Choke it down. But I’ve come to understand, to my utter dismay, the blood I prefer has become the blood I need.Yours.”
Her legs were stuck; she couldn’t bring herself to move. She’d intended to feed him—looked forward to it, even—but she needed to heal him. The pain was driving him mad, further into the monster that would rejoice in draining her.
Lilac lifted the stake and held it above his thigh, ready to shove it into him—an unconscious Garin would be easier to deal with as she pried any remaining shards of hawthorn out of him.
He tsked, and suddenly her wrist was frozen, too. Garin chuckled at the sight of the stake clutched in her clammy palm. “But your blood is not all I hunger for, Your Majesty.” His mouth found the corner of her jaw. “And I can sense you need the same.”
Garin adjusted himself beneath her; Lilac gasped. She could’ve imagined it, but his thick erection feltswollenagainst her. He leaned back,giving her a wider seat. “There. Now, spread your legs for me, Your Majesty.”
There was no resisting him. She did as she was told, leaned into his request—and stifled a whine at the feel of his cock beneath her ass. Lilac instantly reddened when she caught their reflection in the mirror; a faint mark of pink was visible between her thighs, staining her undergarment. She diverted her gaze, blood flooding her face.
“You’re stunning, Eleanor,” he murmured. “The picture of smoldering power. Look at yourself, for your own pleasure if not for mine. I want you to watch as you come for me.”
Her eyes snapped back to him in their reflection; he lounged back, watching her intently. Appreciatively. They shifted down to his bound arms—then, immediately, to her still-risen hand. The stake clutched within it. “You want me to fuck myself with this?”
“My heart’s desires are plentiful and dark, Your Majesty, but I cannot form a single thought past the ache that’s been wafting off of you since you’d decided to make yourself mine.” Garin’s taloned fingers drummed upon the armrest. “What Iwantis to watch you stretch yourself over the instrument I prepared for you to drive through my heart.”
“I am—” she corrected once more, her own conviction comically bare— “Maximilian’s.”
“That,” he groaned, grinding himself under her, “is where you have me wrong. See, that’s the thing I’ve learned, against my better judgement, about Sanguine magic. As your regnant, my allegiance to you is unwavering. I could rally my coven against you. Despite my excellent strategy, I’d somehow ensure my own kind would fall one by one, before a hair on your head was harmed.”
She fought him—but only on the surface. Her own will was no freer than his. Lilac watched as her hand obeyed, lowering with quiet precision.
“This bond of ours doesn't care who we were. Not the woman whose hand was promised to an emperor with endless armies. Not the heir of a starving, morally inept kingdom. It doesn’t care about crumbling treaties, or the wars we’ll lose.”
His eyes flicked downward, sharp and assessing, as Lilac drew the stake up beneath her nightgown, mechanical—deliberate—even as she resisted.
“It cares only foryou,” Garin said flatly. “And now, it’s hollowed you out.Turned you into something else entirely.” He chuckled. “That poor guard—what did you call him? Ciel? The way you crushed his throat with your bare hands did something to me. Made me tingle.”
“I don’t regret it,” she said harshly, to combat the horror of the memory of how good his windpipe giving way under her fingers felt.
“Precisely. Our thrall bond has made you cold. Exacting. Just like me.” His brow rose. “And for that, I cannot fault you.”
Her hand shook there—the blunt tip resting against her clit over her undergarment as she resisted.
It stilled when he clicked his tongue. “You’re right—bring that stake closer, would you?” She felt him cock his head, and her hand drifted the stake up to her mouth. He straightened, his breath hot on her ear. “Spit on it.”
Seething, she did as she was told, growling and wiping the glob dribbling down her chin on her thin sleeve.
“There we are. Carry on.”
Rage and heat flooded her. “I’ll kill you.”
“How about this, Your Majesty,” he countered, his dimples reappearing at the challenge. “If you strain against your own innermost urges one more time, I’ll have you baring that soft, pulsing throat for me whether you beg for it or not. And I won’t be gentle.”
This command was the last her will needed. The last link, before her chain of restraint snapped.
She rocked into him, carefully using her other hand to pull her undergarments to the side. “But I’m still bleeding,” she whispered, her face flooding with heat.
“You’re far too composed for someoneactivelylosing a war within herself,” he murmured, the curve of his mouth brushing her ear. “If you think I give a fuck about a little blood, then you’re sorely mistaken.”
Lilac’s lips parted—the silence stretched when she slid the blunt tip of the stake into her cunt. She breathed, inching it in. Her disgust mixed with waves of pleasure, dissipating altogether into her own hunger as her head fell back in pleasure. “You’re foul.”
“Oh, Iknow, Your Majesty,” he rasped, his own teasing lilt giving way to a groan as she felt her pussy clench around it. She pulled the stake out—then thrusted it back in. “Deeper. Good.”
She did it again, and again, until she did it on her own accord. It made her hips grind against him. Watching herself writhe in the mirror felt dangerous and unhinged; Lilac locked eyes with him—this time her gaze was wholly predatory. Garin looked like he was about to come himself, eyes nearly rolling back.
“Look at you,” he said, his breath hitching at the friction of her ass over his trousers. “The way you arch your back, tilting your head just so. Leaning into me, as though your body already knows what your pride won’t admit.”
