Page 89 of Disillusioned
He wanted every last bit to himself.
Guilt ate at him. He was already feeling better, and she was feeding him from her thigh. But there was no trace of fear or hesitation there, nor could he smell it on her. Only encouragement and a dangerous excitement. Quickly, Garin bent and ran his tongue over the marks, her curious gaze burning him.
He straightened, embarrassed, attempting to wipe his face off and ready to utter what semblance of an apology he could string together.
“Lilac,” he said, his face burning. Garin took her hands in his. “I’m not myself. Nothing has been right. I?—”
She hooked a finger beneath his chin, and forced it up. He finally looked at her, and she locked eyes with him. Her pupils swallowed him whole.
Her blood had quelled his need to feed, sobered him. But another want surged within him—an effect of the Sea Holly, no doubt. The plant’s effects should not have been this strong; he cleared his throat at the sudden urge to lift her from the chair and place her upon the four poster bed. Pound her into the mattress. He forced his breathing to slow, silently reasoning with himself as he gently grasped her hand and lowered it from his face.
It didn’t matter, he thought, attempting to smother his worry with the fact that Lilac was safe. She was here, in front of him. It didn’t matter how, they’d figure that out later. She’d offered her blood to him in full transparency and he had taken it. She was safe. He could finally think, breathe without tasting her at the back of his throat upon every tortuous inhale.
She is safe with me, he told himself again, his stomach knotting as the very nature of him, both man and monster, yearned to covet her for himself—the woman who belonged to the kingdom.
Bride. Eternal muse. Gilded pawn.
He might not have kingdoms or armies for her, but she had not yet seen an ounce of what his strategy or sanguine magic looked like at full power. It might frighten her. Whether kingdoms apart or with her in his grasp, Garin would never be released from the kind of torment she inflicted on him.
He cleared his throat, desperate to dislodge those thoughts. Both their minds were clouded with the Sea Holly. Enchantments and flora mixed together often fostered dangerous consequences.
Garin would stop now, while he was ahead. She was about to meet the emissary. She and her parents would meet Albrecht and hear of Maximilian’s offer, he’d carefully arranged the pieces to align. Lilac would soon be the emperor’s wife.
The emperor’s wife.The thought took his breath away. He had done away with those concerns days ago, when the whisperings of French scouts and the path to bolster her armies had become clear; he had thrown Lorietta’s little book into the Argent and watched several pairs of white-green handsfight over it before dragging it down. Nothing legitimate could ever occur between them that would benefit her—not with the current threat presiding over her.
He had decided this firmly in the nights he’d spent by her bedside as she clung to life at the inn. He should have known it from the start.
Garin was capable of making the right choice. He would stand, clean her off, and escort her out of the brothel. He would?—
Lilac cleared her throat, yanking him from his foolish daydream. The woman who looked up at him was no emperor's wife. No forlorn bride, no damsel.
She was his, within and without.
Her hungry gaze raked over him, from his face to his trousers as she trailed her hand beyond her skirts and ran two fingers through the residual blood left on her thigh. She then brought her hand to her center, smearing the red there through her wetness.
Garin watched, horrified, the thump of her heart drowning out every other sound, quieting the world for him as it had since they’d met. The queen then rose in her seat and brought those fingers covered in her wetness and blood to his mouth.
He felt like running through a wall.
He loosened his grip, his cock straining against his pants as he bent and brought his mouth to her. Garin lashed at her clit with his tongue, exploring, gently pacing her until her knees began to shake under direct pressure. Not lapping at her like a greedy animal took tremendous effort. It didn’t her take long at all.
Her body clenched under his grasp. “Garin.”
Lilac gripped at the seat too clumsily to find purchase, and Garin slowed but did not remove his mouth from her as he coaxed his first two fingers in. She opened up for him beautifully, so warm and tight as her head fell back onto the frame, hips rocking into him.
She was his Lilith, his deity to revere and resent. Garin was a mere man spelled by her luminosity and struck down by her lightning. Try as he did, he had not been able to think about anything, anyone else but his servitude to her these last few days. He’d forced himself to sleep, or at least laid with his eyes forcefully shut in an attempt to quell the hunger ravaging hisinsides. And even then, there in the darkness, Lilac’s haunting, sweet face never left him.
And when he did sleep, in the fragments of his dreams, Garin didn’t think of reaching for his trousers before ensuring she’d finished thrice on his tongue and twice more on his hand.
Lilac gripped the settee cushion and her other hand wrapped into his dark curls again, gentler this time. She whimpered as he stretched her slowly, changing the quick flicks of his tongue to broad, flat strokes up the length of her dripping warmth as he curled his fingers inside her.
If her blood tasted of sunlight, her pussy was the dancing darkness that beckoned him back, reminding him that he was still a man of chivalry but a Daemon in need first, andfuck, how he’d missed the sound of Lilac panting his name as if she could not bear to keep it to herself.
They’d had to keep quiet in his room at his farmhouse, but tonight, he didn’t care who knew it was him making her come.
She began to tremble again, but instead of pulling his head against her, Lilac pushed at him. With restraint, he pulled back. The notes of pleasant amber and vanilla floated above the natural scent of her skin.
“Get up,” was all she said.
