Page 55

“Please,” I say again, and I don’t know what I’m asking him for, only that he is the one person in this wretched world who can give it to me.

The corner of his mouth twists into a mirthless smile as he slides his hands to my hips, then higher still, until his fingers grip the lace collar of my nightgown. A stuttered ripping of fabric tears through the silence, and cold air brushes against my skin. I am laid bare. My breasts heave with each gasp, my nipples rigid. His gaze devours me, leaving a shiver in its wake. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but I know what it stirs in him.

Slowly, he works the buttons of his own shirt, slipping it from his lean shoulders as he looms over me again. His skin is as smooth as marble, impossibly pale. He is made of nothing but corded muscle and sinew, every inch of him pulled tight.

His eyes never leave mine as he unbuckles his belt and slides his breeches to the floor. The length of him springs free, hard and glistening.

I have seen men before, in life and in death. I have never seen him.

When he lowers himself to my quivering body, I still him with a hand against his chest. The ridges of his sternum press against my fingertips, betraying him.

“Show me,” I whisper. “If hunger is what we share, let me see the scars it has left upon you.”

If Iestyn reacts, it’s nothing more than a twitch in his temple, a shadow behind his eyes. Or perhaps I imagine it entirely.

He drops the glamour.

I don’t recoil, not from this. How can I, when looking at him is like staring into the darkness of my own reflection? We are the same, this creature and I. Both of us starving, both of us desperate for what we cannot have.

His body is thinner than a few moments ago, his muscles dappled with hollows and crevices. His veins spill across his chest like webs of ink. His skin is almost translucent. And his eyes…

I stare at them, my throat constricting. Crimson, bloody red.

The curves of his fangs glint as he leans over me again, his mouth inches from mine. “Is this what you want, Alderose?”

The question could mean any one of a thousand things. I have only one answer.

“Yes.”

He dips his head, lips trailing against my ribs until he finds the soft swell of my breasts. His mouth is hard and insistent, his teeth dangerously close to piercing flesh as he licks and sucks at my skin. It’s not enough. Even when he brings a hand up to caress my breast, deftly rubbing his thumb over my nipple, it’s not enough. I need more. I need him.

I shift my hips, my thighs warm and flushed against the bloodless cold of his stomach. He slides a hand down my leg and hoists it to his shoulder, trailing kisses across my chest. His mouth moves higher, brushing my collarbone, finding the hollow of my neck.

It all happens at once. He buries his mouth against my skin, and in the same moment, he pushes himself inside me.

An aching cry spills from my lips. There’s a pressure so tight it feels like pain; then it yields to something else entirely and I throw my head back against the table. I’ve never felt anything like this before. His tongue works hungrily at my neck, bruising my skin. His hand slips into the space between our bodies and rubs slow, steady circles, drawing bursts of hot pleasure from me. He slides deeper into me, filling me more with every firm, unrelenting stroke.

The light from the candelabra flickers and dies, leaving us in darkness. I can still see Iestyn’s lithe shoulders, his pallid skin carrying a ghostly glow as he rocks above me. Each time his hips meet mine, I forget how to breathe. I forget everything, everything apart from the torturous swell rising within me.

I curl my hands, gathering folds of tablecloth in my fists. The soft, opulent velvet disintegrates between my fingers, turning frayed and scarred with moth-eaten holes. Behind my head, the empty plates clatter each time Iestyn thrusts into me, the table scraping against the floor.

Something in me is ready to break. I can’t—

The coiled pressure between my legs shudders, and I cry out, ready to burst. My whole body tightens, then shatters as a violent wave of pleasure rips through me. It’s agony, ecstasy, cascading through me, leaving me gasping. A pulse throbs between my thighs, hot and relentless, utterly spent.

In the silence, all I hear is the thrumming of my racing heart.

Iestyn draws back, eyes sanguine and gleaming. No trace of blood marks his pale lips, but they curl in a way that makes me shiver.

He has everything he needs.

31

I lie on the table for what feels like hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. When my eyes close, I’m not certain I sleep. It’s difficult to tell what is real anymore.

After a time, I muster the strength to push myself up, my spine stiff and aching. As soon as I move, heat flutters between my legs, and I can’t help the stifled moan that escapes my throat at the lingering remnants of Iestyn’s touch.

The hearth is blazing again, its flames bringing a warmth to my shame-flushed cheeks. As I sweep my hands over the tablecloth, I realise it has been restored to resplendent velvet. Gone are the moth-eaten holes and the frayed ends. Gone are all traces of the rot festering under Iestyn’s glamour.