Page 9 of The Hawk and the Nightingale

“You’re loyal as well, then?” Hawk cupped her bottom, and guided his cock to her entrance.

“I aim to be.” Amalie kissed him, scraping her fangs across his lower lip and she slid onto him. Hawk tensed, the twin pleasures in his mouth and his cock threatening to make him black out again. He gripped Amalie’s hips as he forced her to slow down, forced his mind to remain clear.

“Hawk?” she asked, as she raised her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to forget,” he rasped.

She stroked his hair back from his forehead, and began to move her hips in a slow rhythm. “If you do, I will help you remember.”

Chapter Six

Amalie - Marek's Camp, Before

After the novelty of sleeping with the warlord wore off, Amalie was once again bored with her daily life. Since she remained human, she was assigned some of the camp’s chores such as seeing to the laundry and food preparation. The work wasn’t nearly as difficult as what she’d endured in her village, but Amalie had not given her body to a vampire to become a washerwoman or a potato peeler. She wanted more.

Adding to her dissatisfaction was the way the human cattle were treated. Many of Marek’s soldiers viewed the humans as little more than walking meals, though Amalie was excluded from that aspect. Only Marek fed from her, or, on occasion, his mother, Varushka. Amalie shuddered, her skin crawling with the memory of the last time she’d been invited—or rather, ordered—into the vampire queen’s bed. Varushka bit down just a little too hard, and left her fangs in Amalie’s flesh just a little too long. Amalie suspected that the only thing keeping her alive was her status as Marek’s favorite. Once that changed, Varushka would eat her for dinner. Literally.

As if to confirm her fears, Amalie regularly saw humans carried out of Varushka’s bedchamber, some so drained of blood they were grey and cold. Once, the cleaners had dropped a man’s corpse and it shattered on the floor; Varushka had drained him so completely he’d been rendered to a husk.

Then came the night Amalie’s friend, Katia, had gone into Varushka’s room. She never came out.

“But why do you go through so many?” Amalie asked one night, as she lay in Marek’s bed. The best time to ask him questions was in bed, when he was lazy and sated on both blood and sex.

“Sometimes we can’t help ourselves,” Marek said. “Especially the newer soldiers who don’t get to feed as often. The hunger overtakes them. Besides, there are always more humans.”

“But what—“

“Amalie.” Marek’s hand closed over her throat. “I am not going to spare the humans, no matter how many ways you fuck me.”

“I don’t want you to spare them,” Amalie said, careful to remain still. Marek’s nails were as sharp as his fangs, and she’d witness him rip out at least a score of throats. “I only worry that your supply could run low, and you might have to share me.” Amalie pressed her body against his. “I only like the way you taste me. The others are so rough. And,” she continued, tracing a fingertip down his chest, “I know you don’t like to share.”

Marek laughed, and Amalie let herself breathe again. She never knew if he would find her alluring or annoying, and the latter could mean death. “You’re right, my songstress. I do want to keep you all for myself. What would you have me do?”

“Maybe let the younglings feed more often,” she suggested; controlling a new vampire’s blood supply was one of many ways Marek exerted control over his clan. “Not much more often, since they still need to learn their place. Just a few drops here and there, so those brutes don’t destroy their food.” She climbed on top of him, and said, “Dogs play with their food, but you, my lover, are raising wolves.”

Marek laughed again, his hands clutching Amalie’s hips. His talons dug into her flesh, but Amalie didn’t wince or cry out. Showing weakness to Marek was akin to begging for death. “Very well, my beauty, a little more food for all. Perhaps it will make my soldiers love me all the more.”

Amalie leaned forward until her neck was against his mouth, and let him sink his fangs into her throat. “Of course they will, my lover.”

The next day, two guards yanked Amalie out of her bed and hauled her into Varushka’s chamber. “You told my son to feed the younglings more?” the vampire demanded.

“I asked him to allow them a few drops here and there so they wouldn’t drain the cattle all at once,” Amalie shot back. “If they use up all the cattle the favorites will be next, and I do not want to be their dinner.”

Varushka ran a finger along Amalie’s jaw, and tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck. “You think you’re too good to feed my soldiers?”

“I’m not. But I am terrified of what they’ll do to me.” Amalie swallowed, watching as Varushka’s gaze tracked her throat’s movements. “I am far more terrified of you.”

“You should be.” Varushka tugged open Amalie’s shift and pinched her nipple. Amalie gasped at the sudden pain, since Varushka’s talons were as sharp as Marek’s. “Did that hurt, little one?”

“Y-Yes.”

Varushka licked Amalie’s blood from her thumb. “Do you think being given to the younglings would be more painful?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Can you think of anything that might be more painful?”

“I’m not sure,” Amalie replied. “Perhaps a whipping?”

---