Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 19

Thalia

Draven's lips traced a burning path along my collarbone, each kiss sending waves of sensation through my battered body. His hands moved with reverent care, fingertips ghosting over my skin as he slowly untied the laces of my torn garment. The fabric fell away piece by piece, exposing me to the flickering candlelight and his darkening gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my throat, his voice rough with barely contained hunger. His tongue found another small cut near my shoulder, lapping at the crimson drops with deliberate slowness that made me arch beneath him.

My chest rose and fell rapidly, breath coming in short gasps as unfamiliar sensations coursed through me. My hands fisted in the silk coverlet, then moved to grip the front of his dark robes, uncertain whether I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. The conflict between my rational mind and the fire building in my core left me trembling.

"Draven..." His name escaped my lips as a breathless whisper when his palm cupped my breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

His mouth continued its exploration, finding every small wound left by Liliana's whip and soothing each one with his tongue. The metallic taste of my blood seemed to intoxicate him further, his breathing growing heavier with each passing moment. I could feel the tension radiating from his powerful frame as he fought to maintain control.

When his lips finally found mine, the kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. But as I responded, my mouth moving against his with growing confidence, something shifted between us. The kiss deepened, became hungrier, more desperate. I could taste my own blood on his tongue, and instead of revulsion, I felt an answering heat bloom low in my belly.

His hand traced the curve of my waist, fingers splaying across my hip as he pressed closer. Through the fabric of his robes, I could feel the evidence of his desire, hard and insistent against my thigh. The knowledge that I had this effect on him—this powerful, dangerous man who commanded armies—sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with fear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against my lips, his hand trembling as it moved to cradle my face. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

But I couldn't form the words. My body was singing under his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Instead, I reached up to tangle my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him down for another kiss.

It was then that his hand brushed against my shoulder wound—the deepest cut from Liliana's whip. Pain lanced through me, sharp and sudden, tearing a cry from my throat that shattered the spell between us.

Draven jerked back as if burned, his eyes wide with horror at what he'd done. The predatory hunger that had darkened his gaze was replaced by anguish, his face a mask of self-recrimination.

"Forgive me," he whispered, already reaching for the coverlet to shield my exposed form. His movements were jerky, almost frantic as he pulled the silk up to my chin. "I lost control. I should never have... you're injured, and I..."

"Draven, it's alright—" I began, but he was already backing away from the bed.

"I'll send a healer immediately," he said, his voice hoarse. "Someone will tend to your wounds properly. I... I need to go."

Before I could protest, he was striding toward the door, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of his desire and the echo of his tortured whisper.

Draven

I stood at the window of my study, my forehead pressed against the cool stone as I tried to banish the memory of Thalia's taste from my tongue. The sweet copper of her blood mingled with something uniquely her—something that had driven me to the brink of madness in a way I hadn't experienced since...

Since Mira.

My fist connected with the wall before I could stop myself, the impact sending a shock of pain up my arm that did nothing to quiet the turmoil in my chest. How could I have been so weak? So selfish? Thalia was injured, vulnerable, and I had taken advantage of her gratitude and confusion.

The soft knock at my door interrupted my self-condemnation. "Enter," I called, straightening and smoothing my expression into its usual mask of controlled authority.

A servant bowed low as he stepped inside. "You summoned a healer, my lord?"

"Yes. Immediately. The woman in my chambers requires medical attention." I turned back to the window, dismissing him with a wave. "And send word to have Katerina brought to me. Now."

"At once, my lord."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone with my guilt and the persistent ache of unfulfilled desire.

When Katerina, my blood thrall, entered my study minutes later, I didn't turn from the window. I heard the rustle of her silk gown, the soft whisper of her bare feet on stone as she approached.

"You summoned me, my lord?" Her voice was carefully modulated, trained through years of service to convey perfect submission.

I turned then, taking in her familiar form—auburn hair cascading over pale shoulders, green eyes lowered in deference, lips painted the color of fresh blood. She was beautiful, perfectly trained, and utterly willing to satisfy whatever needs I might have.

"Come here," I commanded, my voice rougher than intended.

Katerina glided forward with practiced grace, tilting her head to expose the elegant column of her throat. The gesture was automatic, instinctive, performed countless times before. But tonight, something was different. Tonight, I didn't want careful submission and practiced seduction.

I pulled her against me with more force than necessary, my mouth finding the pulse point at her neck without preamble. My fangs extended, sharp and eager, and I bit down hard enough to make her gasp. The familiar copper taste flooded my senses, but it was wrong—too practiced, too expected. It lacked the sweetness, the intoxicating complexity of...

I pushed the thought away, drinking deeply as Katerina's hands came up to grip my shoulders. She made the soft sounds she knew I liked, her body pliant and responsive against mine. But even as I fed, even as my body's immediate hunger was satisfied, the hollow ache in my chest only grew larger.

When I finally pulled away, Katerina's eyes were glazed with the euphoria that always followed feeding. She smiled up at me, lips parted in invitation, but I was already moving away from her.

"The desk," I said curtly, my hands already working at the ties of her gown.

She obeyed without question, moving to the massive oak surface and bending forward, presenting herself with the same practiced grace she brought to everything else. I tore away her remaining garments with impatient hands, needing the distraction of flesh and sensation to drive away the memory of golden hair and defiant blue eyes.

But even as I positioned myself behind her, even as I drove into her willing body with a roughness that would have shocked my usual restraint, my mind betrayed me. Thalia's face floated before my eyes, her lips parted in invitation, her hands pulling me closer, her desire matching my own.

I drove into Katerina harder, faster, trying to lose myself in purely physical sensation. When release finally claimed me, I collapsed against Katerina's back, my breathing ragged, but the satisfaction I sought remained elusive.

Katerina straightened slowly, turning to face me with the serene expression she always wore after our encounters. But for the first time in twenty years, I caught something else in her green eyes—a flicker of confusion, perhaps even hurt, quickly suppressed but unmistakably there.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?" she asked softly, already reaching for her discarded gown.

I turned away, unable to meet her gaze. "No. You may go."

She dressed in silence and left without another word, leaving me alone with the bitter taste of self-loathing and the knowledge that no amount of blood or flesh would be enough to fill the void that had opened in my chest.

Not when what I truly craved was the taste of golden-haired defiance and the touch of hands that pulled me closer instead of simply submitting to my will.