He bit into my marking spot, making the rush of the euphoria hit me harder than it had before. He had never rushed the bite like this. I gasped from the intensity of it, then moaned. Loudly.
My body continued to hum, the roaring of my blood in my ears, so loud, I couldn’t hear anything else. I felt the pressure of Onyx’s body pressed tightly against mine, making me shudder. I wanted him so badly, but not like this. I would not submit! Could not submit! Not yet!
At some point he had lead me to the bed, where he laid us down. After he finished taking my blood, I tried to reach for the bed sheets as I had done at every taking since I heard his truth. But I felt his hand push my hand away, and grip it.
His voice was in my ear, even though he sounded so far away. I was coming down from the euphoria, but not enough for me to hear him properly.
As I felt myself start to fall into the slumber after the taking, I felt my body move until I was pressed up against something solid. Then he whispered in my ear, “No. I will not let you go. You are mine, blood wife.”
Then, darkness consumed me.
Chapter 11
Onyx’s POV
Dreya had approached me about three weeks before the next gala event. I had been shocked that she had said she would be going. What had been more amusing was how she rushed out that her reasoning was simply to support Odessa at her first real appearance. I guessed she would not have been interested otherwise. But it didn’t matter. Even if Dreya wanted to attend simply because she wanted to attend, I would to. I would do anything for her at this point. No matter how much I didn’t want to go. I enjoyed my time with Devareaux, but I was still hesitant about other high blood borns. Devareaux and I had been spending quite a bit of time together since rescuing Odessa. Devareaux said he was still trying to fix his relationship with her. He had mentioned he needed to present her in public so that it could hopefully push the abolishment of the bloodletting acts sooner. Looked like we were both struggling to reach our wives. I had no idea how to reach Dreya. She spoke only about the business aspects at this point, or about her visits with Odessa. She had been surprisingly excited when she discussed her meeting with Estella. I had not known that Dreya had no friends. Ever. Even as a child. The things I continued to learn about my blood wife had been crushing.
The night of the gala, Dreya had been dressed in a casual looking red dress with ruffled sleeves. The dress went to the floor, but I could tell she was actually wearing high heels. And her hair? She left it down completely, the reddish brown locks flowing in waves around her shoulders. Once again, I wanted to reach out and grab a fistful of it, and lick up and down her neck. I had to readjust myself. Later. Tonight. Or tomorrow.
I had worn a suit, but it had been the most uncomfortable feeling ever. I felt restricted and suffocated. But I would do anything for her. My blood wife. My blood soul. I wanted to tell her. Tell her how much she really meant to me, but she wouldn’t believe me. I had to keep trying, keep reaching out however I could. I wasn’t going anywhere and I would not let her leave me either. I had been able to see her shine again, even if it was for Odessa, and even to some degree, Devareaux. Dreya had returned to being casual and engaging with both Miss Sophie and Gene, which I had been incredibly grateful for. She no longer locked herself in her sanctuary for hours at a time. The door was now always unlocked. I used that to my advantage or more than one occasion. I had asked to join her while I continued working a couple of afternoons a week. I was pushing my way however I could.
This dreaded gala was another one of those moments. We had arrived a little earlier than Devareaux and Odessa, but not by much thank goodness. When we had entered the event, I had heard the whispers. People did not know who Dreya was. They seemed to know who I was though, which was odd. Dreya had ignored the noise around us, though I could tell she was anxious. Until Odessa arrived, then I could see her visibly relax. And even more so when Estella joined us. Devareaux’s parents were formal and stiff with us, resulting is Estella rolling her eyes and muttering about them being “too much.”
I eventually witnessed Mr. D’Avare in the room and I noticed the woman who was with him. They were not touching, but standing very close together. The mother? The mistress? The blood whore?
At one point, Devareaux had leaned in and whispered, “Not the wife.” He apparently knew exactly what I had been thinking. As the evening progressed, the air seemed to shift. Devareaux guided Odessa out to the center of the room. Devareaux looked around at our little group briefly, before turning back to Odessa. Then he did something no one could have predicted. He announced Odessa as his blood wife, her low blood status, and identified her as his blood soul all in one public display. And he knelt before her like she was his queen.
Chapter 12
Onyx’s POV
Devareaux and I had made the plan to meet with Dreya’s father. He may have been her blood father, but he really was worth nothing more than that. Devareaux ensured he had enough proof to put pressure on Mr. D’Avare when we were ready to confront him.
We had been surprised that he had been open to meeting with us. Well, meet with Devareaux. He had to accept that I was just part of the arrangement. We met him at his home office. Dreya’s mother was nowhere to be seen.
He had been civil with Devareaux, but even I could tell he looked down on him as well, even though they were in the same station. When he looked at me, he didn’t bother hiding his disgust. I just smiled back at him, wanting to push every button of his I could.
After some pleasantries and general topics, Mr. D’Avare addressed me directly.
“So, my daughter,” he said with disdain, “was matched to a low blood born.”
“I am actually a mid blood born in rank now.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “You are still of dirty blood. I’m not sure why you would want to spend time with this man, Mr. Hautbois. He is not one of us.”
Devareaux spoke softly, “I am surprised you would talk about your daughter in that manner, Mr. D’Avare. It is unbecoming of an aristocrat.”
Mr. D’Avare retorted, “She’s a dirty whore. She is useless. But of course she would be paired with a dirty low blood.”
I snapped at him, “She was a fucking virgin. And you? You were the whore. Not only your dirty mistresses, by disrespecting your blood wife, but your blood whore as well.”
Mr. D’Avare looked shocked at the accusations. “I never…”
Devareaux leaned in, calmly and quietly. “Oh, you absolutely have.” He smirked wickedly at Mr. D’Avare. “Or maybe you can tell us exactly who Roselle Cartier truly is to you?”
Mr. D’Avare paled.
“And a low blood born no less. Oh, the scandal that will bring upon you.”
