Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine Book 1), page 22
Sleep refused to take me away from the fear and uncertainty that had me pacing my bedchamber into the early morning hours.
And when it finally did, Florian still hadn’t returned to his rooms.
I woke with the first touch of dawn creeping into the ice-covered windows and a pounding ache within my skull and limbs. There would be no king willing to soothe it for me, so I crawled from where I’d fallen asleep at the end of the bed and drew a bath.
I donned my preferred robe, without a reason to dress even if I had the energy to, and wondered if breakfast would be delivered.
I combed my wet hair while Snow whined to be let out.
The door wasn’t locked. I still hesitated to open it, worried I’d be met with Florian’s wrath for merely letting the wolf cub find a way outside.
Snow scratched at the wood. I gave in and let her out, hoping someone would do the same when she reached an exit to the manor downstairs.
The aches had morphed into something reminiscent of a fever. I’d never had one. Fae did not fall victim to sickness as humans did. But I’d tended to Rolina when she’d been bedridden with them so often that I knew the signs.
I drank the remaining water in the carafe within the bathing room, my hands shaking as I leaned upon the stone wash basin. My eyes were murky, my cheeks too pronounced and tinged with a flush that would not recede when I touched them.
I stared at the ginormous bathing tub beside me, tempted to climb back into the water I’d yet to drain.
A knock sounded.
I left the bathing room as the door to my rooms opened.
Olin, grim-faced, said in a tone that made me clutch at my robe, “The king desires your presence in the downstairs drawing room.” He scowled when I didn’t move. “Immediately.”
I swallowed and nodded.
Atop the stairs, I turned when Olin said quietly from behind me, “Do not test him. I’ve only seen him like this once before.” His eyes seemed absent, and I knew he was remembering whatever had happened then. “This time is different. He’s...” He shook his head and exhaled heavily. “Be very careful.”
Although alarming, it was possibly the nicest the steward had ever been to me. I nodded again, grateful for the warning and for the indication that he did not wish to see me murdered.
Even as a bone-deep instinct reassured me that Florian wouldn’t hurt me.
At least, not in the ways Rolina had.
That didn’t stop my heart from rattling in my chest as I made my way down the stairs to the drawing room. It stopped beating when I entered the open doors to find three faeries tied by their wrists to a wooden beam in the ceiling.
Their swollen and bloody faces made them nearly unrecognizable. Though that wasn’t what horrified me so completely.
Ice encased them all. From their toes to their mouths, it appeared to cocoon them.
Regardless, I still knew who they were.
The overwhelming scent of their fear matched that of the males who’d tormented and touched me profusely at the Frost Festival.
Dread heavied my slow-to-return heartbeat.
Florian sat in the armchair by the snow-piled window.
At first glance, he was the definition of composure.
But he was without a shirt, his knuckles bloodied and cut. The foot resting over his knee bounced. His elbow dug into the leather armrest. His thumb slid over his lower lip, blue eyes fixed on the prey he’d hunted.
The doors behind me creaked.
I glanced over my shoulder to Olin. He pulled the doors toward him, giving me a slight nod, then trapped me inside the room with the king whose rage seeped from him as a second scent.
The earthy caramel fragrance I’d come to obsess over had sharpened. It was headier but tinged with an acidic aroma that heightened the senses, his fury a blistering-cold energy akin to standing outside during the arrival of a snowstorm.
No pair of his many boots adorned his feet. They were bare and speckled with blood that I knew was not his. His hair was a tangled mess as if he’d continuously swept his hands through it.
It was then the full magnitude of this male I’d been recklessly toying with sank into my psyche with claws so sharp, I struggled to find my next breath. He was a storm given the form of a Fae king, his energy crackling with every heaved rise and fall of his chest.
My refined keeper and tormentor was gone. In his place was a beast freed from his gilded cage.
One of the males groaned.
A dagger made of ice flew from Florian’s palm and plunged into his cheek.
He bucked, but only moaned some more.
Startled into taking a step closer, I saw that each male’s mouth had been sealed. The ice encasing their bodies stopped beneath their nostrils, leaving their eyes the only way to communicate their terror.
“Who touched you?” Though the question was soft, it was edged in warning.
I kept staring at the males, but none dared to acknowledge me. Their eyes remained on the ceiling as if they were afraid they might fall upon me and they would be further punished.
“Tullia,” Florian clipped.
The use of my real name jarred me. I looked at the king.
His eyes were on the males. I still knew he was aware of every burning breath I drew.
I shook my head, wanting to move closer to Florian to reassure him—to attempt to end whatever this was—but not daring when his energy flared in warning. “They all did, but they were only fooling around,” I said, my words and tongue thick. “Just dancing.”
“Just dancing,” Florian said, his lips spreading into an unnerving and blinding smile as he rose from the chair.
I staggered back but croaked out, “Yes.”
Florian slowly paced before the males, and two of them squeezed their eyes closed. The other continued to stare at the ceiling.
As heavy seconds passed, I wondered if Florian had calmed enough to be reasoned with. I stepped closer, then stilled when he stopped pacing and wrapped his hand around the frozen arm of the male in the middle.
Muffled screams were trapped behind the ice covering his mouth, blood vessels bursting in his eyes, as Florian pulled.
Blood sprayed red and unending over the stone floor.
I stared at the severed arm melting within a pool of warm blood. “Florian,” I wheezed, my hand clapping over my mouth. “Why?”
I’d known he was not a good male. I’d known, yet I hadn’t imagined him capable of something like this.
“They touched you,” he said, and so simply, as he stared at the male who’d lost consciousness while he stood before the next one. “Groped you.” He turned to me with eyes so dark and wild, I ceased breathing. He jabbed his finger at his chest. “My treasure. My creature.” He turned and kicked the leg of the male behind him, roaring, “Fucking mine.”
More blood rained, and I fell to my knees.
I blinked at the severed leg, afraid I would vomit as the room twirled and twirled, and my stomach roiled.
Florian crouched before me and lifted my chin in a terrifyingly gentle hold. “Who took you into the trees?”
“No one,” I rasped.
His eyes sparked at my audacity to lie, venom coating each clipped word. “Who took you into the fucking trees, Tullia?”
My eyes closed.
I had to say something—but I refused to give him everything when those whispered words of going home were all I had.
Find a way to the city florist on Ashen Street.
He growled, and I opened my eyes. “It wasn’t any of these males, Florian, I swear. Someone helped me get away from them, and when I found my bearings, whoever it was had disappeared.”
He searched my damp eyes, no trace of the male I’d come to know visible in his own. Every inch of him had surrendered to his baser instincts—to the predator that lurked beneath his skin.
I’d caused this. By walking away from the throne during the festival, by falling victim to feelings and desires I couldn’t tame, I’d caused all of this.
And to make him stop, I would need to bring him back.
Guilt sliced sharp and deep, stealing my breath and then sending it from me in a heaved exhale.
Florian snarled, “I don’t believe you.”
My fingers shook as I unfolded them to grasp his wrist. He tensed, his upper lip curled, but the king did not recoil when I brought his hand to my mouth. I held his gaze as I pressed my lips to his bloodstained palm. “No one has ever touched me in the ways that you do.”
His eyes, which had been fastened on my mouth at his hand, snapped to mine. His nostrils flared slightly as though he were sniffing for a lie.
There was no lie to be found.
“Florian, I need...” My words trailed into hoarse noise as my eyes flicked to the bloodshed surrounding us, and I ceased trying to ignore the desire within me.
Instead, I squeezed his hand, allowing the heat I could no longer battle alone to bloom.
His gaze slowly traveled over my robe, assessing and cold, yet I warmed further beneath his appraisal. “The heat.” His head cocked. “So potent, I cannot sleep near you, knowing how much you need me.” Unblinking eyes met mine. “You need me, don’t you?”
I nodded, still clutching his hand at my cheek.
His thumb brushed the flushed skin there, his eyes narrowing when he discovered it wouldn’t recede. “Tell me you fucking need me, Tullia.”
I didn’t hesitate. Not even the blood and horror marring this room could stop me from finally whispering, “I need you, Florian. Now.”
Rather, such gruesome possessiveness had only made me all the more desperate.
The shame of my reaction to his actions faded, taking the guilt and sickness with it. For what he’d done, understanding why he’d done it...
I shivered, and the incessant ache in my core panged and swelled like never before.
Florian noticed, of course, and he cursed.
He plucked me from the floor. My arms and legs curled around his shoulders and waist as he carried me from the drawing room to the stairs. His unhurried steps and protective hold beneath my ass and the back of my neck were telling.
He would have me, and there was no stopping him. No turning back.
Fortunately, I didn’t want to.
I wanted to end this torment once and for all, despite the numerous consequences that would follow—the reasoning I’d clung to for days. None of it seemed to exist now. Nothing existed but him and the press of his body burning through my robe, his scent singeing and melting my limbs as I inhaled deeply at his neck.
A rumbled noise climbed his throat.
I kissed it, laid my lips upon it, the molten heat inside me dancing with impatience. He held me tighter, and as soon as the doors closed to his rooms, warned to my ear, “There will be no running from me now.”
“I don’t want to.”
A dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine.
Strange cracking sounded.
My head rose as I was carried toward the bed to find ice crawling over the doors—sealing them. More crawled over the balcony doors.
“No one but me is allowed to hear your cries, pet.”
Then I was set on my feet, my legs wobbling as Florian ripped open my robe. He groaned and pushed me backward onto the bed. I blinked up at the candles in the chandelier as he ordered, “Open your legs.”
I surmised he was in no mood for teasing.
I did as I was told while he removed his pants, his stare plastered between my thighs. He rubbed his bristle-bordered mouth, cursing roughly. My own dried at the sight of all he was, my eyes unable to decide where to feast first.
I didn’t get the chance to decide.
Muscle clenched everywhere, my legs gripped above the knee when the king climbed onto the bed.
His hold was bruising, but I forgot about the pain when he lifted my core to his mouth and rubbed me over his lips and nose. He groaned, then licked me, and that desperate entity inside me who’d been starving for what felt like eons ruptured at only the fifth languid swipe of his tongue.
I moaned as he hummed against me in approval.
Then he lowered my shaking legs but leaned forward and wrapped them behind him. His cock pressed to my entrance. He gave no other warning, no soft reassurances like those I’d read in books. He was incapable right now. Possibly always.
He eased inside my body in one slow yet determined thrust.
My back arched. My muscles seized.
My body bucked and screamed in refusal.
But Florian captured my hips and held me still, his cock deep inside me as waves of agony spread like fire. Breathless and trapped, I whimpered without sound.
My eyes opened to find the king’s gaze crawling over me with unmistakable delight. “Sweet creature, am I hurting you?”
He knew he was. I still further pleased him by saying, “Yes.”
“Good.” His gaze fell to where we’d joined, pain locking my limbs. “You’re broken now, butterfly,” he said, still staring as he slowly withdrew from my body to the tip. His smile was feral satisfaction. “Your blood marks my cock.”
He pushed back inside me, and a scream scraped my throat.
His neck rolled, muscle cording as a guttural groan trembled his giant frame. Then my hips were released and he was looming above me.
His elbow indented the bed beside my face. His wrist pressed to my cheek as his hand covered my mouth. The other caught my hands and held them above my head. He withdrew again, then entered me in a hard thrust, his hips grinding.
He groaned, loud over the sound of my smothered cries.
His head lowered aside mine, his every low and gritted word heating my ear. “My defiant, daring creature. Look at what you’ve done.”
My thighs quaked as my feet dug into his smooth ass. My body curled up against his in search of both reprieve from the burn of his cock and more friction. He slid out, and though I tensed against the scalding ache, a different heat delivered relief when he sank back inside me.
“Are you proud?” He licked my pulse, teeth nipping. “Does it make you feel good to disrespect and torment me?” He kissed the skin he’d bitten, rumbling, “To rake your tiny claws over my chest and watch me lose my fucking mind?”
My heart clenched. I shook my head, attempting to talk—to tug my hands free—and failed.
“I think it does.” His slow thrusts gained more speed, more bruising power. “What am I to do with you now, Princess? It seems you were created solely to test me.” Another groan. “And to take me.” His teeth pierced my skin with his words. “But only me.”
I bucked against him once more, but the pain receded when he sucked the wounds his canines had given.
Alarm prodded at my hazed mind.
He was feeding from me.
It left as quickly as it came as every ounce of pain began to fall away like water pushed over a cliff.
Warmth, so swift and drugging, flooded from my scalp to my toes. It was akin to standing in the sun after feeling cold for an eternity. I shivered and moaned. My legs tightened around his waist and my head tilted to give him better access to my throat.
“Good little pet,” Florian crooned and lapped at my neck. “By the time we leave these rooms, you will hunger for me as much as I do you. And butterfly...” He circled his hips with a grunt. “We won’t be leaving for days.”
I gasped when he stole his warmth from me and rose.
I was pulled off his cock, his hooded eyes watching himself slowly leave my body. His chest heaved heavily, once, twice, while a glowing sky blue overtook his eyes. Then he lowered his head at the same time he lifted my legs from behind my knees, helping himself to my center.
“Florian...” I was about to warn him of the blood.
But of course, that would be redundant when it was blood he desired.
His tongue flattened and dipped, seeking every drop of my broken virginity. I orgasmed almost instantly and with violence, pain flaring and soothed by his tongue. He kissed my clit, then sucked it, and forced my thighs to stay open when I attempted to close them.
It was too much.
And not nearly enough.
He pushed his cock inside me as soon as my ass met the bedding again. “You’re so fucking swollen, butterfly.” My head was caged within the bulk of his arms, his bloodstained lips trailing over my jaw with his rasped, “Squeezing silk.”
Remembering that my hands were free, I clutched his head while he moved in and out of me, wanting his teeth in my neck again. He sensed as much as I held him there, and chuckled, the sound primal and throaty.
The sharp puncture of his canines stilled my limbs, but when he suckled, I was once again given that unearthly bliss.
A bliss that matched the sparking pleasure from the movement of his hips.
“Come on my cock, Tullia,” he ordered and licked at the blood I felt trickling toward the bedding. He groaned, tongue dipping into my clavicle, and began to fuck me harder.
My fingers clenched his hair, and my thighs shook.
He rose as I spasmed around him. “Fuck.”
I moaned and met his thrusts.
He gripped my throat when my back arched and my eyes closed. To the corner of my mouth, he demanded gruffly, “Eyes on me.”
His thrusts sharpened, learning where to strike to prolong the rapture racing through my veins and hitching every breath. His eyes were still aglow, his lips parted. His hand slid up my neck, his thumb rubbing my lower lip.
I caught it with my teeth and sucked.
His eyes flared. He stilled, then pounded into me three times before his head tipped back. His shoulders and throat corded with veins and muscle, his entire body shaking as he released with an animalistic sound inside me.
At that moment, I feared the consequences again, but for a different reason. As his thumb left my mouth and our gazes locked, I knew that even if I survived him, I would never recover from him.
Florian’s chest heaved with another violent, exhaled curse.
Then he fell over me and pressed his mouth to mine, hard and fleeting. His nose skimmed my cheek, his lips dragging down my chin to my chest.
Reclaiming his hair, I stared at the ceiling and licked my own blood from my lips.
