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“I wouldn’t even bed you in my fucking dreams,” Elarian hissed.
She tried to raise her hand, but her entire body felt weak, drained of energy as if Lucan had already supped on her silvered blood.
“Was that your hope? That I’d forget myself and sleep with you before you slit my throat?”
“Oh, darling,” he purred, “I don’t need to hope for such a thing to pass. You need me. Everything you’ve become exists because of me, doesn’t it? I am the mere Blooded Prince, not the master holding the whip.”
Leaning in closer, Lucan breathed in deeply.
“Yet still, you come for me.”
His body quaked as a soft moan filled Elarian’s mind. His hips shifted, pushing her into the wall at her back. Mind tumbling with questions and thoughts she’d rather ignore, Elarian reached for the silver dagger sheathed against her thigh. Something stiff brushed against her hand.
Was he…Goddess help her, was he hard?
Disgust rose with her bile. Lucan’s smile widened.
“I will n—”
Elarian gasped as Lucan grabbed the fullness of her breast beneath his cool hand and squeezed hard. For a breath, the weight of his palm over her skin sent her mind into disarray. She trembled; he hummed with contentment. Leaning his head in, Lucan brushed his lips under her right ear.
“I should have made you mine long ago,” he murmured against her throat.
Whatever power Elarian had to control her breathing faded. Her heart pounded in her chest, legs trembling until her knees buckled. She sank into Lucan’s arms; he pulled her closer, teasing her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t you agree, Elarian? The fun stops once one of us is dead…Wouldn’t you rather continue this twisted dance than die for a goddess?”
His words startled her into action. Elarian brought her knee up swiftly between his legs. Lucan howled as he released her head, spittle flying as his fangs gnashed at her face. She twisted away, the silver of her bracelet brushing against his wrist as she did.
Lucan bared his fangs, crimson eyes gone wild. “Oh, keep fighting, Elarian. I do love watching defiance rot into obedience.”
“Be careful making playthings of deadly women, shivaem,” Elarian hissed as she ducked beneath his groping hands.
Shadows now consumed the small chapel, so thick Elarian could only place Lucan by his heavy breathing at her side. Just as he lunged, she twirled away, hands already reaching for her silver.
Fingers slipped around metal.
Lucan’s pallid hand reached for her throat.
She lifted the dagger; a horrid squeal rang in her ears as silver nicked undead flesh.
The vampire prince howled with pain and jerked his hand back. Consumed by black, Elarian only heard the flapping of wings and pitiful squeaks of some pathetic, injured thing.
Then, a grotesque bat with leathery, gray skin stretched like webbing between its massive, clawed wings swooped low over her head. Thrashing as it flew, a droplet of blackened blood landed on her face before the bat disappeared into the dark corridor.
Breath ragged, Elarian collapsed to the floor, body violently quaking as the vampire’s frozen grip remained around her heart. She scrubbed furiously at the places his hand had touched, nails raking across her own skin until angry welts rose beneath her fingers.
It did nothing.
His scent still clung to her.
His voice still echoed inside her skull.
The fun stops once one of us is dead.
“Monster,” she whispered, though she no longer knew which of them she meant.
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