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“I apologize to you, Fearless, and to you, Check. I put you in needless danger.” I gazed into their faces, as Lainule had told me, and smiled softly.
“We act upon your will, my Lady. As you order, so we shall obey. Whatever you need, we are there.” Check bowed, but I caught his gaze and his eyes were smiling.
Fearless merely bowed and murmured, “As you will, Lady Cicely.”
Grieve waved them back to their posts and held out his arm. I took it, resting my hands on his elbow, and we made our way back to the Barrow. I’d learned a valuable lesson, and I didn’t plan on forgetting it. The fates of others rested on my shoulders. It was time I wrestled my impulsive self under control. Because if I didn’t, my actions would eventually kill someone—and not just the enemy.
In that moment, as we walked under the fading summer night, I felt like I’d aged a lifetime.
Grieve led me to our bedchamber. The bed was a giant four-poster affair, but the mattress wasn’t from Macy’s, that was for sure. It was handmade, and perhaps the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept on. The quilt was thick, heavy, and hand-stitched. In varying shades of blue, purple, silver, white and black, the pattern formed a winter silhouette of the forest and stars.
As the lanterns softly illuminated the room, I turned to Grieve. “Are you angry at me?”
“Angry, my love? Why?” In the blink of an eye, he was naked. The full Fae were able to adapt their clothes from the energy in the air. I couldn’t do it, but I admired the ability.
“Because of what I did. I put the guards in danger.” I slowly unzipped my jeans and slid out of them, along with my panties. As I pulled off my turtleneck and unfastened my bra, Grieve raked my body with his gaze, his dark eyes soaking in the sight of me.
“You did what you will forever and always do—act on your own mind. I have accepted that about you, Cicely. You’re going to shake up the throne, and take the Winter to a place it’s never been before.”
With a laugh, he slid under the covers and reached for me.
I joined him, kneeling on the bed by his side. “Hasn’t Myst already done that? Somehow, I think the Court of Ice and Snow might appreciate someone in charge who isn’t quite so adventuresome as I am.”
“The Court of Ice and Snow has been dead since Myst murdered Tabera. I think the people of Winter just look forward to having someone sane in control.” He slid up to a sitting position and reached out to take my hand in his. “Enough about politics. Come here. I need you.”
And with that, I straddled his lap. Gazing into his face, I stroked the side of his cheek and brushed his hair back out of his face. A warmth began to steal through me, a heat sparking in my core.
Leaning in, I pressed my lips gently against his, at first only the lightest of pressures, but then my tongue stole between his lips, playing over his teeth, as love turned to lust and the sparks between my thighs blazed to life.
I ached for him, hungered for his touch, his passion, his kiss. All I could think about was how much I needed him inside me, how much I wanted to be at the mercy of his long, silken strokes. Moaning softly, I squirmed on his lap, the blanket between us an annoying impediment.
Grieve slid his hands around my waist, then cupped my butt, his fingers firm against my ass. He reached up with his left hand to brush his fingers against my breast, tracing light strokes across my nipple.
Gasping, I dropped my head back, exposing my throat—the most vulnerable thing I could do around one of the Vampiric Fae. But Grieve kept control. He squeezed my breast, then pinched the nipple so hard I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. The pain awakened my passion. Letting go, he leaned forward and tongued my breast, curling around the nipple as he sucked softly.
His erection pressed against the cover, and as I shifted, he pushed the comforter back to expose himself, hard and rigid beneath me. I squirmed, trying to aim so that he would slide inside me, but he took hold of my wrists and rolled me over, forcing me back on the bed as he knelt between my legs.
I let out a sharp cry as he kneed my legs apart. Grieve and I were not gentle together. Our passion filled both need and fury.
“Don’t move,” he said, hoarsely. And I obeyed, arms over my head against the pillows.
He backed up enough to fasten his mouth over my clit, and his tongue began to dance, rasping along the ripples and folds of my cunt. I grew slick and wet.
I wanted to hold his head, but when Grieve said, “Obey,” I had learned to listen. “Please, may I move my arms?”
He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling in the dim light, and nodded.
I clutched his platinum hair as it fell between my fingers, the long strands like silk in my hands. Grieve moaned, his breath tickling me even as I came, sharp and quick, hard like ice. I was still pulsing from the rush as he slid up between my legs, but now it was my turn and I pushed him back, rising as he sprawled on his back. He was firm and erect, and the hungry look on his face made me want to tease him, to drive him to that point where there was no more question, where he had to take me down.
Leaning forward, my hair draping over my shoulders, I lowered myself to rest my mouth on the head of his cock. Slowly, one teasing inch after another, I slid down the length, letting its girth force my lips apart as I took him into my mouth.
Grieve let out a gasp as I stroked him with my tongue. He tasted like salted caramel and I closed my lips around him, increasing the suction as I took him in long strokes. He reached for my hair, sweeping it out of the way. I looked up at him, wanting him to see my lips fastened around his girth, and his eyes grew wide and luminous. Knowing he was watching sent me spiraling into another orgasm, and I let out a choked moan, lightly scraping my teeth along the ridges of his cock.
Grieve grunted, deep and throaty, then leaned forward, slid his hands beneath my arms, and dragged me up to face him. He cupped my chin in his hands, saying nothing, but then, slowly, the mood changed, became darker.
I knelt on the bed, resting back on my knees, as his gaze fastened on my face. His dark eyes were unblinking and he began to breathe harder. In the dim light, his razor teeth—needle sharp—gleamed. Never shifting his gaze from my face, he raised my wrist, staring at me through those heavily lidded eyes. I caught my breath as he lowered his lips to my skin, brushing his teeth along the inside of my wrist, just avoiding the artery. A thin red line welted up as he broke through the skin. He slowly licked the blood off, one long stroke after another as more of my life welled up through the wound.
The venom of his bite rushed through me like a white-hot flame of hunger. While I was now immune to the charm it cast, the feel of him feeding on me sent me reeling, and I came hard and quick yet again, letting out a sharp cry as Grieve smiled triumphantly.
