Page 8 of Moth & Flame
Balthazar’s brows pinch in distress as he nervously twists the dramatic curl of his auburn moustache. “Darling, I’m sure that’s not true. Come now, you can’t say things like that about your future husband. The man is on the chair of numerous charitable organizations.”
Truly, it’s a testament to my self-restraint that flames don’t spew from my nostrils on every exhale.
“I will not be dissuaded.”
He shakes his hand in dismay. “I supposed as much. You’re aware your family will likely disinherit you, and that you’ll be voted out by every chair on the board of Blackspire Blood Vaults.”
As much as I already knew it, hearing it aloud makes something in my heart fracture. Watery emotion burns my eyes, forcing them away from Balthazar’s to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, overlooking the Dreadmere Grand–one of the few verdant sanctuaries amidst this stony city. My mind drifts to Draven, and my heartbeat lightens to pitter-pattering in delight of its own lovesickness. Stealing away the heartache over a family I could never trust and a company I’ve poured my life’s blood into being taken from me.
Balthazar’s voice bleeds with trepidation.
“Hella… You’ve got this peaceful look about you. It’s terrifying.”
Inhaling deeply, a sense of peace washes over me as the words rise to my lips.
“The board needn’t bother with any vote. I’m resigning.”
Balthazar’s jaw falls so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t hit him in the cock.
“Hella, surely there’s an easier way? One that doesn’t involve this grandiose self-sabotage.”
I proceed to examine my crimson nails.
“If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that one must suffer an end in order to have a new beginning.”
Balthazar splutters. “Darling, but—please.Have reason.”
Rising from my seat, hope swells bright and voluminous in my chest, like the rays of the rising sun painting the sky as it claims its victory against night. Regardless of the fact I may meet my own death in this endeavor, excitement bubbles inside me asmy eyes pass over the sprawling city below and settle on Moth & Flame’s facade in the distance.
“Balthazar, I need you to draft a letter declaring the dissolution of my engagement contract and my letter of resignation.”
HELLA
The foyer of Moth & Flame is a toasty reprieve from the foul weather torturing the skies as I slip inside the alley entrance with a swipe of my key, satchel of jewels and cash in hand. Having finally arrived to my blessed reprieve, I heave a sigh of relief, setting my bag down to remove my absurd trench coat and hat. Moans and cries pepper the air, muffled behind the doors of the various kink rooms, whilst my heart flutters on wings of anticipation.
Just as I’m about to peel off the thick handlebar moustache, a large, calloused hand closes over my mouth, and a tall, thickly muscled body presses firmly against me from behind. A warm baritone voice in my ear. “What’s a pretty little kitten like you doing all alone without her Master, hm?”
His head dips low, and I feel his mouth at the curve of my neck, spreading into a grin before he grazes his fangs against the sensitive flesh, making my nipples tighten on command. “Do you need to be punished?”
I give a muffled, “Yes, sir,” through his palm. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as the arm barred at my waist slips beneath my dress. A needy whimper escapes as he tugs my panties to the side and his fingers glide through my already-slickfolds and over my clit. “Fuck, kitten, is all this sweetness just for me?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Draven turns me around, dark eyes bright with desire and need. When his gaze dips to my moustache, dangling halfway across my mouth, I bestow a sultry grin. “I wore something special for you, darling. Don’t you like it?” My tongue flicks out to tease the moustache for a split second before we both burst into laughter.
And that’s all it takes for the weight of the world to lift from my shoulders. By the time our laughter slows, Draven has already pulled me against his chest, hands cupping my face as he stares down into my grinning, half-moustachioed face. He manages a gravelly hum through his chuckle.
“I wouldn’t want you any other way, love.”
My heartswoonslike it’s ready to swing right off the edge of a cliff and into Draven’s big, strong arms.
Which is technically what I’m about to try and do.
Draven bows his head to gently tug the moustache the rest of the way off with his teeth before letting it sail to the ground. Our eyes linger, and time seems to suspend. The tension between us draws so tight, I want nothing more than to sag in his arms and beg him to kiss me.
It’s been three months of this. I’ve fallen head-over-fucking-heels for this male. It’s surreal that, technically, if it weren’t for Lazarus—I wouldn’t even know his name.
Draven’s expression gradually hardens and as his hand fists a length of my hair in a way that bares my throat to him. My pulse ratchets higher as my arousal blooms when he brings his nose to my neck, nuzzling in a way that is pure dominance, heightened further as he nips and grazes my pulse point.
