Page 13 of Nocturn

His breathing caught, and my gaze clashed with his as he remained impassive. I began to suspect he didn’t have many other facial expressions.

He sat up so abruptly that I startled and moved my hand purely on instinct. Which meant my palm clashed with his chest. The first man’s bare chest I had ever touched. He tensed. I couldn’t breathe, much less think.

No man had the right to be so achingly beautiful while being the epitome of masculinity.

We sat there, suspended, watching each other. My vision wavered. I have not breathed!

I sucked in a gust of air and it ripped him out of his stunned silence. A sneer curved his lips, exposing a fang that curved slightly inward.

Fear rushed through my veins.

That was why Warlords were avoided by even Hollows. They were the deadliest thing to walk the realms. And the apex predator was staring at me as if I had greatly insulted him. I remained unable to move as he reached down to his maleness.

He wrapped his palm at the base and glided his hand up. The length twitched, and the veins seemed to bulge.

“Like my cock, Vessel?” he murmured, his voice lashing out like a physical blow.

“Th-this is not proper,” were the only words that escaped my lips. His grin widened, taking on a cruel edge.

“Propriety?” he drawled. “You are concerned about propriety when your existence will be extinguished?”

I floundered for what to say, but there was no appropriate response because it was true. My face burned even hotter.

He snorted, studying the redness on my face as he plucked the washcloth and soap out of my grip. Sudsing it up in his broad hand, he gripped his cock. Without removing his gaze from mine, he dragged his hand down to the bulge at the base. Air whooshed through my ears, rendering me deaf to the swishing water. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

How does one insert that?

I let out a shaky breath, studying the curve of his tip before my eyes moved lower. He released his length. It bobbed, still stiff and pointing outwards. His large hands rubbed soap into the rest of his body, and he quickly rinsed off.

“Fetch my robe,” he commanded.

In truth, I did not have a choice.

After a quick sweep of the bathing area, my gaze snagged on the material hanging on the back of the door. On my way to the rack, I swiped my moist palms on the front of my sleeping gown. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had not realized how damp the fabric had become as I washed him.

Quickly, I grabbed the velvet fabric and returned to his side. He finished drying himself with the towel and stepped out of the tub to tug on the robe.

His steps ate up the ground. I stayed in place, watching the water drain away. Even the Bjorn Estate did not have such advanced plumbing, much less a tub as magnificent as this.

“Vessel!” he barked, and I jumped to follow him, but I didn’t need to. He was already back inside the bathing chamber, firmly gripping my nape below the metal collar. I stumbled, falling over my feet as he forced me to the side of his bed.

He latched me to the end of a chain attached to the leg of the bedframe. Saying nothing else, he slid beneath his fur blankets. With the way the mattress hugged his body, it had to have been full of ostrich feathers.

His arms stretched behind his head, and his eyes closed. Meanwhile, I stared, trying to ground myself. I eyed the space beside him and knew it was not meant for me.

“Could I ha⁠—”

“Silence!”

I jumped at his booming shout.

No blanket for me then . . . or much of anything else. I studied the hard ground, then down at my sleeping gown that was still damp from bathing him. Another night on the ground. As I lowered myself, the hard floor pinched my knees. I sank onto my side, curling my legs up to my chest. Cold seeped through the fabric. I readjusted, tucking my arms between my legs for warmth. The chain dragged on the floor with loud clinks.

There were four moon rotations left until Nocturn. Four moon rotations to figure out how to escape the Warlord’s clutches.

CHAPTER FIVE

Feeding