Page 26 of Heart of the Raven Prince

She has endured more than you have. If she’s had to make peace with their lies in order to survive, I will not take that from her.

I cling to that thought because I cannot, will not, accept that they can be good. Not after all I have seen. I can’t help but think of Caden, the look in his eyes as Lochlan pulled me from that black room. I thought, for a moment, that I saw relief. Like he was happy I was not the one to be whipped.

They are liars.

I repeat those words to myself as I stab the needle into the patch of cloth. I imagine I am stabbing Caden instead.

The thought brings me no peace.

Her breaths come in rapid pants as I thrust up into her. One hand grips her firm ass, guiding her up and down my cock, while the other tangles in her thick copper curls. She's straddling me, holding the back of the couch we're seated on to steady herself as she rides me. The couch scrapes across the floor, blending with the visceral sounds of our bodies slapping against each other. I may be fucking her like a wild stallion, but I take care not to hurt her as I sink my fangs into her neck. A moan shudders through her when I take a long, deep drink from her blood. The honey-sweet tase of her makes me thrust harder.

“Fuck, Caden, more,” she sputters, grinding against me with each pull I take from her throat. I’m throbbing, edging closer to coming, but I hold back. I move my hand off her ass and swirl my thumb over her clit, drawing a fresh wave of wetness from her. She writhes against me, letting out soft, desperate little sounds that drive me crazy.

All at once her pussy tightens around me and she cries out, grabbing my shoulders, her fingers digging into me. I hiss, my freshly healed back still tender, but I don’t stop her. I will deny her nothing in this moment, anything to give her as much pleasure as possible. She’s trembling, shivers wracking her body as she slumps against me. I slow my pace, but I do not stop, and I certainly don’t pull my thumb off her clit.

“I can’t…I don’t think I can handle any more,” she pants against my ear.

I chuckle as I pull my fangs from her neck, licking a line up to her ear, where I nip the lobe and whisper, “You can.”

Fuck me, she got even wetter.

She gasps, quivering in my arms as pleasure begins to build in her again. My lips find hers, devouring the moan that escapes as I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her to me. I stand in one swift motion and carry her toward my bed as my tongue explores hers. The decadent taste of her blood still lingers in my mouth, warming me, heightening my senses. I know the feeling is fleeting, and soon that relentless starvation will return, but I relish the heat while I have it. I lay her gently on my bed, a whimper escaping her lips when I have to pull out of her in the process.

I chuckle at the desperate noise, crawling on top of her and nudging her legs open. Her pussy is already dripping, and I get stuck staring at it for a moment, before she begins to tug on my arms impatiently.

I promised her pleasure, and I keep my promises.

She’s biting her lip, lust simmering in her gaze as I guide my cock to her entrance and push myself slowly inside. Kissing a trail up her chest, I revel in the taste of her skin, coated in sweat from our carnal dance. I move in and out of her, sucking a nipple into my mouth, taking my time bringing her to the edge. She grinds against me, hooking her legs around my waist, her thighs already shaking.

She grabs my hair, keeping my face firmly on her breast, showing me what she wants. I grin, only too happy to oblige as I flick my tongue against her peaked nipple. Her orgasm is building; I can tell from the way she emits quick little gasps, her hands scrambling for purchase on my sheets. She’s wild, uncontrolled, lost entirely to bliss. A cocky grin spreads across my face, a wicked idea blooming in my mind. I bite down on her breast, blood pooling into my mouth. One long drink is all it takes to bring her to climax. She cries out, arching her back off the bed entirely as she comes, trembling and throbbing beneath me while I continue to move inside her.

Part of me wants to wring one more orgasm out of her, but fuck I’m too close, and now it’s my turn to give in to the animalistic nature of this dance as I rapidly pound into her. I grab her hips, pulling her somehow closer, driving deeper and deeper, until suddenly she cries my name and I can’t hold on any longer. I explode inside of her. My thrusts slow in time with hers, and with a shared, shuddering breath, we stop. I pull out of her slowly, relishing the feel, the last bit of warmth. She collapses back onto the bed at the same time that I fall to the side.

“Gods and demons, Caden,” Yasminda breathes, wiping sweat from her brow and placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart. She turns her head to look at me, a sultry and satisfied smile tugging at her lips. I begin the methodical task of healing the many bite marks littering her body. I lost track of how long we were entwined together, but the number of wounds makes me think it's been hours. I heal the one on her breast last, swiping my finger through the trail of her blood and licking it clean.

“Did you enjoy that?” I ask, grabbing her hand and bringing it to my lips, where I place a gentle kiss on her fingers.

“I think you know the answer to that,” she says, still panting. A sheen of sweat covers her naked body, glistening in the dim lighting of my bedroom.

“Yes, but I like hearing you say it nevertheless.” I smirk against her fingers. She laughs, pulling them from my hold and slapping me playfully on the chest before sitting up.

“If you’re looking for someone to stroke your ego, look elsewhere,” she calls over her shoulder as she moves into my attached bathroom.

“I’m thinking of something else you could stroke, if you won’t touch my ego,” I counter at her retreating form.

“Uninterested,” she lobs back, earning a dark chuckle from me. I watch her go, until the sound of the bath being filled floats into my room. She’s humming a tune softly to herself, one I’ve heard her sing many times before. The smile slides off my face. I made the mistake of asking her what song it was, and she told me it’s a song from her village. The one in the mortal realm.

The one I burned to ashes.

The guilt and shame that are never far from my mind settle on me like a boulder. It is a second skin at this point, a feeling I am far too familiar with. Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, resting my forearms on my thighs and leaning over. Without the physical distraction I am snared in the jagged trap of my mind. Any time I allow myself even a moment of joy, the barest hint of pleasure, I am only too quick to snuff it out. I do not deserve it.

I deserve to drown in the ocean of blood I have spilt.

My back throbs, and I sit up straight, standing and making my way to the bookshelf inlaid in my wall. I stop by my dresser on the way, using a dress shirt to towel off before I toss it aside. I grab a pair of trousers and tug them on, not bothering to button them up. I resist the urge to rub my back, which is beginning to itch like hellfire now that the fresh blood inside of me is fueling my rapid healing. Trailing my hand over the spines of the leatherbound tomes, I stop when I come to a slim bloodred book, and gently tug on it.

A mechanism clicks inside the wall and the row spins. Replacing the line of books is a hidden bar with a well-curated selection of liquors. I pour a glass of the thick, richly sweet cherry cordial that Yasminda prefers, before pouring myself a generous helping of whiskey. Picking up both glasses I turn and make my way to the bathroom.

Yasminda is still humming her haunting tune, up to her shoulders in a mound of bubbles in my brass clawfoot tub. She’s running a soapy cloth over her pale rosy skin, her hair a knotted mess of curls atop her head. She flicks her eyes up, smiling at me as I hand her the cordial. She takes it with a sudsy hand, as I lean against the wall and watch her. I note her eyes trailing over my wings and I wonder if she’s thinking about my back.