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“If you promise to behave, I will give this back.” If looks could kill, I would be dead a thousand times over.
My mouth falls open as her hand plops slams down in a bowl of porridge in front of her. The sticky substance splatters all over her dress, but she doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, she curls her fingers, scooping a large amount, and shoves it all into her mouth. She tries to continue giving me the death stare, but her eyes close, and a moan escapes her lips as she chews.
I am instantly hard at the sound. And it becomes even more uncomfortable as she tries the different varieties of dishes before her. It’s like I no longer exist; only the food matters now. And I can’t help but imagine what she will look like once she has three constant meals a day. How strong will she become when cared for properly?
I smile like an idiot when she dances in her chair when she eats something she really enjoys. I’ll slave away every day in the kitchen to make it happen over and over again—anything to please her.
She empties bowl after bowl before she starts on the roasted bird. I have to rearrange myself into a more comfortable position as the juices drip down the side of her mouth. She moans even louder around the meat. I thought she was beautiful before, but nothing could compare to the sight before me now to her in absolute bliss over something so simple as eating.
Her chest heaves as she breathes in, her belly full, and reality slipping back into place. Her gaze darts around the table of destroyed platters and empty dishes. A slight blush rushes up her neck and settles in her cheeks. I want to clear the table with a swipe of my hand and devour her atop it like the feast she is.
“That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” I breathe. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, and death is back in place of the embarrassment. “Especially the little dance you do when you really enjoy something.”
“I don’t dance,” she growls, grabbing another handful of food she didn’t have room to eat. Before I can respond, she stretches across the demolished meal and shoves the food into my mouth, leaving me sputtering and choking as she laughs at me.
Every instinct to claim her rushes up all at once, and I recognize she is actually in danger. I haven’t felt that beast in years. And if she doesn’t get away, I will take from her what she isn’t willing to give.
“Out,” I growl.
“What?” Her laughter dies with her question.
“Out, now!”
Her eyes widen, but she listens this time. The door slams behind her, leaving me alone to deal with my demon.
I unbutton my trousers and grab my cock in a firm grip, working it with the same ferocity I want to destroy her body with. Imagining her moans are for me and not the food. I pump it hard until the orgasm slams through me and spills over the table.
“Fuck,” I moan with the release, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t her.
Grabbing the goblet, I chug the remainder of the blood and wince with the disgusting taste. I need something fresh. But now that I have smelled and been near her, no other source will do.
Weary and unsure of what else to do, I quickly bathe and return to my office. I have zero control over my reaction to Nyx, so I will do the one thing that always blocks out all other thoughts. I gather my books and return to my research of the mass of vines that are growing more unmanageable under this castle.
Itrace the large beams that crisscross the ceiling for the hundredth time. Nothing seems to help me close my eyes so I can finally get some sleep. Even moving off of the overly soft bed to the floor hasn’t helped. My mind just won’t shut off.
A soft creaking sound, barely audible over the beating of my heart, comes from outside the window. I slowly roll to my feet and strain my ears to pinpoint the source. It doesn’t change or get louder; it constantly slithers and groans.
I crouch low and carefully make my way to the window. Still, the sound stays the same. A soft cadence that barely competes with the sound of the insects singing their nightly tune. I try to make out the disturbance through the shadows of the trees and buildings. The moons, being nothing but slips of pink and white in the sky, do nothing to help.
Standing as still as I can, I watch and wait for the disturbance to become known. It always does when you are patient enough. I’m rewarded with movement down on the ground toward the right. The moons provide just enough light for me to make out thick vines slithering across the ground toward the forest.
“They are…” I track the movement. My eyes finally adjust to the shadows, and I try to figure out where they are coming from. How are they moving on their own? Maybe they are not. Maybe someone…
I squint to see where the end of the trail is. There are not many places they could come from. Parts of the castle surround the small clearing on all sides except for the dense forest stretching out before me toward the city.
Something isn’t right.
Heading for the door as fast as possible, I forget I am a fucking prisoner here. Despite knowing the asshole keeping me here, I still jiggle the handle, and to my surprise, it is unlocked. The idiot never came up here to lock it.
Not even bothering to hide my escape, I run down the long, winding staircase until I reach another dark wooden door. There are no windows or any other way of escape. Drawing a deep breath, I grab the handle and send up a silent prayer. I never thought it would work, but this door is also unlocked, and no one is behind it. The new room is dark and smells like ink, soot, and old books, but there are no windows to light the way.
I stumble around using only my hands…and shins, occasionally, to find my way around obstacles. Eventually, I will stumble across a door or something, right? Unless my luck has run dry, and this is where I am captured and then thrown into the dungeon.
If I didn’t have a mission, I would almost prefer that than staying within reach of the Prince.
The books under my hand fall further into the back of the bookshelf, and a soft click fills the silence. I try to catch myself as the bookshelf moves away from me, but without being able to see anything, I fall to my hands and knees on the stone floor. Cold, damp air slowly blows around me, lifting my hair and making me shiver.
I don’t think this is the door I was meant to find. I wipe my hands on my nightdress as I get to my feet. The long, narrow hallway is lit by the moonslight seeping in from a few small windows at the top of the walls. The cold breeze continues to blow across my bare feet, but the air above is warmer and smells stale.
