Garin sank his fangs into the underside of her wrist, accepting her cruel offer, the monster in him rejoicing in mocking praise as he gave in.
This is what it should be. Could always be, if only you gave in.
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he drank generously.
Glorious sunlight. A warm, salt-dusted breeze.
She was his Lilith, his maker and destroyer. The beginning of the end, the night that beckoned him forth. Especially when his tongue was slicked in her.
17
There was something wrong with them. The both of them. The Dragondew Mead had worsened the effects of their connection, whatever magic that had not waned in their time apart, partial bond or no—but Garin’s mouth against her wrist impossibly dragged her mind from those concerns. Fire faded to ice.
It was twice as intoxicating as he held her over him.
Garin took one last pull from her wrist then removed himself, quieting her frustrated snarl with a short tug of her hair, causing her to moan. “Is this what you left your safe abode for tonight, Your Majesty?”
She could hardly concentrate on an answer with the head of his cock at her entrance. Lying would only prolong his torment. “I wanted to make you regret entrancing me.”
A guttural laugh escaped his throat. “By fucking Casmir?”
“By any means necessary,” she choked out, desperate to feel him.
He chuckled again, the sound sweeping across her spine. “There are far worse things you could do to me. Consider this a lesson in revenge.”
Garin slid his hands onto her hips and slammed her down onto his cock.
Gasping, Lilac’s head fell back, feeling herself abruptly adjust to him. His next thrust was so painstakingly slow, there was no doubt in her mindhe meant to punish her. His grip on her was unrelenting as he controlled every movement. She reached down and dug her nails into his wrists.
“I want to ride you.”
A wicked glimmer crossed his face. “I have given you what you want. Now, I’m going to take what I need.”
He shifted her, angling her chin up before sinking his teeth into her throat with no warning. Lilac scraped her nails along the back of his neck, instinctively cradling him closer. Encouraged, he bit down harder, sucking deeper, the heavy pull against her skin causing her to rock onto him. All thought, all memory and concern melted away as she convulsed, soaking the settee beneath them.
Garin groaned, taking a shuddering inhale before lifting his fangs from her. “That’s it, now. Look at you.”
Lilac burned, hungrily raking her fingers into his shoulders. “I would hardly call this revenge.”
His lips brushed hers as he thrusted into her from beneath, wetting her mouth in her own warm blood, not quite kissing her. “You haven’t the faintest idea the torture you unleash upon me.” He reached up, his thumb gliding across her cheek. “I never thought it was possible for you to look more beautiful—yet here you are, covered in the blood that I’ve drawn. You make it increasingly difficult to do the noble thing.”
“The noble thing,” she said, voice thick, “would be to ally yourself with me.”
“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.” Garin’s eyes drifted up from her lips, excitement dancing behind them despite his sad smile. Anapologeticsmile. “The noble thing to do tonight would be allowing you to leave this room without my nature getting the best of me.”
Realization slowly sank in. She nodded, desperately trying to smother her alarm. She’d thought he’d begun to see reason moments ago, when he’d first drank from her thigh; she’d also fought to keep her thoughts coherent through the process of trying to convince him to leave.
She’d tried seducing him, making sure he was fed. She’d thought it was her blood he’d craved. Maybe it still was, but how much of it did he need? How much to wash the effects of the Dragondew Mead away?
How was she supposed to sober him when they were both drunk on each other?
He bent his head, sniffing at the unscathed side of her throat, as if searching for another vein. Lilac clutched his face with both hands and firmly pushed him away before he could bite her again. Fortunately, he obliged.
“Look at me,” she said softly. His skin was hot, and her hands came away slicked in beads of sweat.
She’d come to make him pay and still intended to, but she would do so another time, when they were out of the fire. He had suffered enough for now.
It was hard to concentrate again on her plan—her plan in the making—when he was still hard against her, his erection now resting against her stomach. She didn’t understand; if Myrddin was as powerful a warlock as they’d said he was, couldn’t he at least have given her a tonic or anything that might make this mission of hers easier? He hadn’t hadanyspecific advice to spare?
