Page 110 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“I have to fuck you to save you,” he says hoarsely. “Do you consent?”
I blink and nod.
He takes two pale-green mints from his pocket—the ones he sucks on to make himself hard for the Queen. I whimper, unable to verbalize why it distresses me that he’s using one now.
“Believe me, I crave you like I crave knowledge,” he says. “But seeing you like this causes me infinite pain, the farthest thing from arousal.” He holds up the candy. “This will help me do what I must to save you. I’m sorry your first time has to bethis. Take one of these now, kitten, to ease the way.”
I try to reply, but this time only a snarl emerges from my jaws. With a pained expression, Riordan slips one of the mints into my mouth and takes the other himself.
The spell activates instantly, sending a flood of arousal through my body. It’s a wonderful sensation, a blessed relief from the bone-eating agony; but it’s also strange, since it clashes with my waking hunger and the panicked awareness of my failing tether to the Queen.
Riordan settles himself between my legs and moves my knees up on either side of his hips. Taking hold of himself, he eases into me. He’s big, stretching my small hole wide, but I barely notice any discomfort because my ribcage feels like a bonfire.
“Open your mouth wider, kitten,” he rasps.
Raw need sears my throat, curling at the back of my tongue, emerging from my mouth in a choked howl. Riordan spits onto my tongue. His cheeks are wet; his hot tears splash onto my sensitized skin.
What are you doing, Riordan, what are you doing…
Oh gods, I need meat. I need fresh, red, pumping, bloody, visceral meat.
With his cock still deep inside me, Riordan leans over my body and sinks his claws into his own chest, groaning with mingled arousal and agony.
Blood flows around his fingers, trickling into the gaping wound where my heart used to be. The thin streams of his blood sizzle when they contact the red energy of the Queen’s magic.
Dimly, distantly, I understand. His saliva, his tears, his cum, his blood—our joining for the first time—the components of a powerful healing spell. He’s trying to save me. But that knowledge is a flimsy wisp at the back of my mind, while at the forefront is my ravenous need to sink my teeth into the beautiful heart that is bleeding itself out for me.
Hoarsely I scream, struggling to reach into the wound he has made so I can tear out his heart; but he pins both my wrists to the floor. His tears rain onto my face—his tongue is in my mouth, wet and warm, slicing itself to shreds on my fangs. His hips roll as he moves inside me, a desperate rhythm, faster, faster—
His wound is healing, the flow of blood lessening, so he grips my hand and, with a strangled roar, uses my toxic claws to lacerate his chest again, cleaving deep into his heart’s-flesh.
I try to shriek a protest, because now he can’t heal, now he’s going to die—but my brain is dazzled with the scent of his hot, rich blood, pouring directly into my chest cavity. I want his heart, Ineedit, I have to tear it out and chew into it with my fangs. I fight him harder, while he fucks me, kisses me, weeps over me, bleeds into me—
Pleasure cracks through my lower half, a whip of ecstasy snapping against the groaning void of my hunger. I stop fighting for a moment, captivated by the orgasm.
And then Riordan comes inside me with a broken sob. He releases my wrists, clasps my face in both his hands.
“Live,” he whispers.
The red fire in my gaping chest swells suddenly hotter—then disappears.
I am cold, dark, and empty.
The Queen is dead, so I will die.
Riordan’s crimson eyes are turning glassy, his features slackening. His weight collapses against me as my own vision fades.
It’s right, somehow. The two of us.
Dying together.
34
The Queen is still gnawing Alice’s heart as Riordan staggers from the dais, carrying the girl’s limp body.
Clara’s arm moves in dramatic slashes, wielding her paintbrush like a knife. From my vantage point I can see she’s painting in streaks of scarlet and black. She’s waiting, like I am. Waiting to see if the plan worked, if the waters of the Unending Pool can save us here, like they saved my cousin.
The Dread Court is cheering, screaming, delighted that none of them will be the Queen’s meal tonight. Demands reach my ears—they’re crying out for me, for the sweets and entertainment I can give them.
