Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine Book 1), page 12
“You,” he responded simply, and rather than continue toward the stables, the king urged Bennington into a canter that stole my breath and every thought from my head.
The breeze whipped and burned my cheeks. My heart seemed to soar through the crisp air in our wake. Florian slowed the horse as we again entered the woods beyond the stables, allowing him to cool down before he brought us to a complete stop deep within the icy foliage.
I turned to look at him, about to ask what he intended by stopping here.
His mouth immediately stole mine, and he swallowed my shocked gasp with a quiet groan.
The hand around my waist crawled higher to skim my breast through my gown. My stomach tightened, and I squirmed forward without thought, my core rubbing against the pommel of the saddle and causing sparks to ignite.
Florian noticed. Nothing seemed to escape him. He dipped his tongue into my mouth, then whispered, “Rock your hips.”
He bit my lip as I did. A low rumble climbed his throat. It left him in a small growl when I clasped his hand and brought it to the low neckline of my gown. He needed no more permission. His hand slipped beneath the material, as well as that of my slip.
I moaned, rocking harder against the saddle when he squeezed my breast.
“So obedient,” he crooned, kissing the corner of my mouth softly as pleasure seeped through every limb to coil and spread throughout my core. “You must really want to come.” Another kiss to my lips, his eyes bright and wild on mine. “You make me so fucking hard, I could come just from watching you.”
His thumb grazed my nipple, his other hand climbing beneath my skirts and slip. I stopped rocking against the saddle. He encountered my slick flesh and groaned again. “You’re awfully wet, sweet creature.” Then he circled my clit. “And so perilously swollen.”
Indeed. I came apart at the second press of his finger against my clit.
Wicked delight shined in his eyes as he watched me shake and pant while gently rubbing me into pieces. My thighs squeezed, and Bennington huffed, shifting slightly.
Florian removed his hand. Gaze firm on mine, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked each of them clean with relish. Dazed, I stared, limp against him as he fixed my gown, and we slowly left the privacy of the woods.
We’d reached the drive to the stables before I’d wholly caught my breath and regained the use of my brain. “When will you let me tend to you?”
Florian climbed down from Bennington, then helped me do the same. “You already do,” he said, a touch hoarse.
I stared up at him, confused by his meaning.
He grinned and stroked a curled finger beneath my chin, his head lowering and his lips molding tight to mine. He seemed to breathe me in, his mouth bruising and unmoving, the hand at my hip squeezing.
Then he broke away with sudden and swift force. He gave Bennington to the approaching stable hand and stalked toward the manor.
Memories of the day kept me restless and far from sleep.
Surrendering to failure, I decided to return my tea tray to the kitchen for something to do.
The stone walls might have kept the winter chill at bay, but they emanated a strange ice all the same. As though they watched, silent and all-knowing after providing refuge for generations of Hellebore royals.
The eerie yet somewhat comforting feeling stalked my quiet journey downstairs.
At the bottom of the staircase, I paused when I heard male voices floating between the cracked open door of a room to the left of the foyer.
“Hiding in the town of Jenmin, supposedly awaiting orders.”
“How many?” Florian asked.
“Amber reported hearing of twelve, which means likely double that.”
Florian scoffed. “Ignore them and press forward for more noise.”
“The more we make, the more he seems to retreat.” A pause before the other male said, “To continue with these direct and open attacks when he’s bitten his tongue for so long is concerning, Flor.”
The familiarity between the two struck me with surprise. Whoever this male was, he was not merely a warrior or general, but perhaps a friend, being that Florian did not protest the improper addressing.
There was no response from Florian.
His friend added, “Especially now that he has more reason to...” The male stopped abruptly.
As did my heart when the door creaked with the touch of a crisp breeze that opened it farther.
“Come here, butterfly.”
Shit.
I looked down at the tea tray gleaming with firelight from the sconces and inwardly berated myself with a sigh.
The ticking of the clock above the foyer echoed in the silence.
There was a slight shake to my hands, probably from being caught eavesdropping. It caused a rattle as I set the tray upon the hall table next to a vase of pure gold awaiting fresh wildflowers that would come with morning.
Not much bigger than Rolina’s room in the apartment, the king’s study was surprisingly plain.
And intimidatingly dark.
The sconces were unlit, as if this meeting had not been planned or it was not meant to drag on given the hour. The only light to guide my hesitant steps was provided by the moon aglow in the two windows with drawn drapes beyond an oversized desk made of steel and oak.
Maps lined the expanse of one wall. It was too dark to see what locations had been marked with red wax.
Florian reclined in a high-back and winged leather chair, his coat open and his hair mussed.
He looked up from what appeared to be a miniature ice sculpture he’d been carving with a small dagger. He twirled the weapon between his fingers as he smirked, then set it down next to a stack of neatly piled documents. “It is unwise to listen in on conversations you were not invited to join, sweet creature.”
I nodded, feeling his friend’s gaze press upon me like an itch.
Florian carefully placed the sculpture next to the dagger. “And even more so to roam the halls at such a late hour.”
Though those words should’ve further intimidated, they didn’t. The gentle threat caressed my skin as though he’d brushed his fingers over it.
I half wondered if he’d introduce me to his friend, of whom I assumed was in fact his general, or if one of us would be dismissed.
Florian merely ordered, “Come to me.”
I stepped forward onto a woolen rug and stopped between the two chairs facing his desk—one of which was occupied by the male. All I saw was a flash of bright eyes and white-blond hair and bulky boots crossed at the ankles. He said nothing, but his presence made it hard to shake the tension from my bones that had lingered since being caught loitering and listening.
Florian’s gaze narrowed as if sensing as much, though it did not leave me. “Closer.” I crossed to the desk, and the king reclined more in his chair with a twitch to his lips. “Closer, butterfly.”
Heat began to bloom in my neck and cheeks. I was thankful for the darkness as I rounded the desk to stand directly next to Florian.
He patted the wood. “Closer.”
Swallowing, I made to look at the silent male seated across from us.
Florian tutted.
I did as requested, my silk nightgown protesting when I pushed up onto the desk.
“Closer,” he said again, and this time, he did not wait.
I was pulled to sit right in front of him, his hands remaining on my thighs. His thumbs rubbed, shifting the silk over my skin. A softness that grazed.
Florian crooked his finger. “Closer.”
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk as if it would help my heart cease racing.
The king stroked his knuckles over my cheek, his searching eyes a luminous light in the dark. “Kiss me.”
Too aware of the warrior behind me, I hesitated.
Displeasure thinned Florian’s lips. His eyes dropped to my mouth, the hand still upon my thigh squeezing gently. “Do you not wish to?”
“I do,” I breathed.
Deadly in its deceptive beauty, his smile lifted his long lashes. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
My discomfort curled into a tight rope around my chest. Ignoring it, I leaned forward to place my lips upon the king’s.
The tension rapidly left my bones.
Everything slowed and softened with the first silken touch of his mouth on mine. His taste awakened and soothed. I parted his lips, a breath carrying sound escaping me when he groaned and clasped my cheek and jaw.
Our tongues touched, and I shivered as he broke away and laid his forehead aside mine.
It took his next order for me to remember we were not alone. Low, but not so low that our company would not hear, the king said, “Do close the door on your way out.”
A little mortified, I scooted from between his legs and pushed off the desk to the floor. I kept my gaze on the ground as I passed the blond male I hadn’t once dared to get a decent look at, and forced my weakened legs to the door.
As it closed, a boisterous laugh, unfamiliar and therefore not Florian’s, failed to keep from sneaking through the spelled stone and wood.
I wouldn’t see my betrothed again for two days.
After searching the three floors and discovering only parlors, a ballroom, and locked chambers, I’d sifted through the grand library downstairs. I had plenty of books to choose from in my rooms, but I wasn’t in search of something to read. Everything was still so new, so glamorously different, I couldn’t have read if I’d tried.
I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t deny it.
I was itching to see Florian, hungry for more of his confusingly cold yet heat-inducing company. Though the doors to his quarters were locked, including the one adjoining our rooms, I could sense he wasn’t there.
When Olin escorted me to the dining room for another lonely dinner, I’d asked of his whereabouts, only to be met with a rising of his brows that conveyed his displeasure at my audacity.
I’d sighed and watched the fire burn low in the ornate hearth while eating as much as I could. Kreed was the only one who’d been half pleasant to me, and he’d indeed given me smaller servings for every mouthwatering meal.
Today, I was tired of wandering the beautiful yet empty halls and enduring Olin’s stern disapproval of my lowly presence. After lunch, I marched straight outside into the winter chill.
A guard who’d been loitering by the manor’s entrance trailed me to the edge of the drive. As I trudged in my boots toward the forest, he mercifully made no effort to join me.
Twigs snapped underfoot. Frosted spiderwebs hanging from bare branches glinted like jewels beneath the sun. I traced them with wonder and meandered deeper into the trees before I heard the faint growl.
I stilled, instinct warning me to retreat, when I caught a flash of white fur.
Then there was a whine, and that instinct changed with a jarring pulse I couldn’t ignore.
I followed the sound as though it were a song on the wind rather than a keening I’d heard only once.
Behind a large oak, blood speckled the snow surrounding her.
A female. Confirmed with the first glimpse of her dark eyes.
I crouched beside the cub, allowing her to sniff me before I gently prodded her injured leg. She growled, attempting to move. I placed a hand on her flank, and she settled. Peering through the foliage, curious as to where her mother was, I sensed nothing nearby.
I inspected the bite on her leg. Another wolf had done it.
Indecision warred, but something stronger suffocated it. Something I’d not felt before arose and outweighed any uncertainty. Not only did I want to help her, I had to.
Carefully, I pulled the cub no bigger than a fat alley cat into my arms.
The wolf wriggled but stilled when my eyes met hers and I ran my fingers over her head. The admission left me on a whisper, though something told me that even if she didn’t understand my words, she understood the emotion in my eyes. “I know how it feels to be discarded, young one.”
We trekked back through the woods toward the manor. It winked at us, dark yet glowing red through the trees.
I crossed the dirt road and stopped at the entry to the circular drive.
It was flooded with wagons and carriages. Trunks were being unloaded and carried into the manor, with Olin leading the way.
At least thirty warriors milled about. Some talked, some watched their surroundings as if a threat might emerge at any moment, and others unpacked more trunks and sacks and tended to the horses. All of the warriors wore the black-edged blue uniform.
All of them wore weapons at their waists and across their backs.
“Skies,” I breathed, knowing I could not move another step without all of them looking at me. Which would have been perfectly fine.
If I’d not been carrying a bloodstained cub I’d plucked from the forest.
I wondered where I might locate a side entrance. Then some warriors headed to the grandest carriage, and I caught sight of my betrothed for the first time in days.
My feet were moving before my brain could bleat at me to stop, the wolf almost forgotten until every pair of eyes felt like they were trying to burn a hole into my body. But it was too late to turn back nor care now.
Florian was not impressed.
Talking with one of his grumpy-looking warriors, he looked at me with a heat in his eyes that darkened to outrage when he spied the cub.
“His majesty returns.” I smiled brightly. “Look what I found.”
The fire-haired male Florian had been speaking with looked me over with a smirk, then took his leave with a bow to his king.
The king scowled at the tiny mound of white fur in my arms. His eyes narrowed on the blood covering the cub’s leg. The wolf whimpered and seemed to recoil from his gaze.
I held her tighter and hushed her. “He won’t hurt you.”
When I looked back at the king, his features had flattened. But I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. “What makes you so sure?” His brow arched. “That is a wolf. A beast that has no place bleeding anywhere near my home.”
“I know what she is, and she’s just a babe who needs help.”
“Put it back,” Florian clipped in a tone that warned not to disobey him. “Messing with nature’s way never serves well.”
“And what if nature intended for me to happen upon her for this very reason?” I readjusted her weight in my arms. “I can help her, Florian.” I nodded insistently. “I’ll keep her in the stables. You won’t even know she’s here.”
He glared, speaking through tight teeth. “You cannot keep a wolf with horses.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind, being that she’s just a cub.”
His clenched jaw shifted.
Sheepish, I grinned and spun to leave. “I’ll see you later.”
“Butterfly,” he growled.
I hurried across the drive. The heavy stares of guards and warriors tracked my careful steps down the iced garden path surrounding the manor.
As tall as trees in the woods, the stables sat only half an acre behind Florian’s giant fortress. It felt like a short eternity as I feared being followed and stopped.
Of course, the king was right. The horses were not happy.
Snickering and shifting echoed throughout the stalls when I entered the dark.
The stable hand jumped up from where he’d been taking a nap on bales of hay. A piece fell from his slack lips at the sight of me. “What in the skies—”
“Excuse me,” I said and continued to the vacant stalls at the very end. They were not tended to, old hay and some excrement left to rot. I set the cub down and grabbed a rake.
The stable hand appeared. “I really cannot—”
“I’m in need of some horse blankets, please.”
The tall and thin male blinked, scowling at me. Gripping his suspenders, he eyed me up and down with a sneer. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
I smiled and offered my hand. “What is your name?”
He made a face at my hand, then stomped away in his knee-high boots to get me what I needed.
Florian was waiting on the side of my bed when I exited the bathing room after washing away the blood and muck.
Hands clasped between his knees, he rubbed his thumbs together. The darker bristle upon his face made me even more curious about what he’d been doing in his time away from the manor, if he’d been too busy to groom himself.
Admittedly, I rather liked it.
The cub, of whom I’d decided to call Snow for now, was tucked within a stall. Henron, the stable hand, had thankfully found a salve and a bandage for her wounds.
“Does it give you satisfaction?” I frowned, and he said, “To defy me?”
Wearing only a towel, I went to stand before the fire at the end of the bed to assist in drying my hair. Defying him had not been for the enjoyment of it, though I could not deny that it did please me to leave him wanting for once.
Before I could pass him, my hand was snatched. A shocked laugh escaped as he pulled me between his knees.
It died when his searing midnight eyes climbed my body to meet mine.
“Hello, Majesty.”
His jaw ticked. “Florian.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been gone too long for me to feel that familiar with you,” I teased.
“I’ve had my tongue in your cunt and your drool on my neck,” he said with far too much ease. He smirked when my eyes widened. “If that’s not familiar, then please...” He clasped the back of my legs, hands slowly rising up my thighs, the towel taken with them. “Do tell me what is.”
“You’re awfully crude.”
“Do not pretend to mind.”
I raised a brow, but he was right. I didn’t mind at all. “And I do not drool in my sleep.”
His teeth flashed with a heart-thawing smile. “You do, and I’ve yet to wash my neck.”
“That’s...” My nose crinkled. “Rather unpleasant.”
“What is unpleasant, butterfly, is your defiance.” The towel was tugged to the floor, and I gasped as his hands roamed over my thighs and hips.
