Page 72 of Nocturn

His shaft twitched, the semi-flaccid length stiffening once again and nudging at my belly. He pulled away to drag a breath in. I pressed my nose against his, waiting.

“Why did you leave without a word?” I whispered against his lips.

He blinked, his thick sooty lashes sweeping up as his eyes widened.

“I . . .” he paused, looking at me as if I had gone mad.

A sound rumbled in his chest, deep and vibrating. He had been about to answer. It cut off just as suddenly, and he flashed his fangs with his sneer.

“You have no need to question my whereabouts, redblood.”

I should keep my opinions to myself—I knew better, but his derision wrenched anger forward. I had been placed with the rest of his harem. What had I expected? Unbelievable that such an archaic concept existed, but that was essentially what it was.

“I suppose you are right. Who am I to question the grand Warlord?” He cocked his head at my accusatory snipe. “If you’ve been serviced appropriately, release me for I must return to my duties.”

“Duties? What duties?” A thundercloud traveled over his features.

“I have been aiding the alchemist.”

Deafening silence was followed by his deceitfully calm voice. “That stops now.” The cloud of anger only worsened. “I am your duty.” He narrowed his eyes and clasped the bottom of my jaw. I struggled for freedom.

“You are not to leave my side,” he threatened in his soft voice. He reached through a panel of my skirt and shoved past the bloomers.

“Draven,” was all I was able to gasp. Pressure expanded at my entrance, and I jerked on him. He dragged me closer.

“Tight little cunt,” he whispered against my ear.

“My lord⁠—”

His fingers plunged into my soft, feminine flesh. Again and again, expanding the heat there until I could not breathe. By the third swirl of his thick fingers, my hips moved to follow the rhythm of his plunging digits.

Ecstasy began to take hold. I sank my teeth into my lip, and my fingers curled into his shoulders, scoring hard enough that onyx blood welled. Then he stopped the rhythm of his fingers. Without removing his focus from me, he lifted his two digits to his mouth, licking the glistening moisture.

My lips parted on a harsh exhale, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

He moved with Warlord speed, tossing me onto the bed until I was face down. I only had the chance to lift my head before he yanked off my bloomers.

I hadn’t even had the chance to push to my knees because his arm wound under my belly. He pulled my waist up so my bottom lifted more, and the gown bunched at my waist, leaving me exposed. All my weight fell upon my elbows.

Lord Draven shoved my legs wider, his hands on my bare hips. Pressure expanded at my entrance. I drew in a harsh breath, tensing. He ran one of his hands over the small of my back.

“Shh, mortal, relax.”

My body did his bidding, and he invaded another inch. The pressure felt fuller, different, keener.

I squeezed the fur under my face.

My channel fluttered around him as he pushed deeper. I closed my eyes to the stretch down there. A mingling mix of pain and pleasure. More of him filled me. I cried out, the pulsing shaft ripping need from my channel until I was desperately wet.

Draven moaned.

“My filthy little redblood knows how to come on my cock.” His whisper was edged with need.

“More,” I ordered, arching my spine, gaining more of the fullness. My insides had rearranged for him, taking him, gripping him with the clasp of my channel.

He made a choked sound, and his hands on my waist stopped me from pushing against the base of his cock.

“None can take my knot, little mortal,” he breathed. “Have a care.”