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Dianna
For once, my dreams weren’t about death, blood, or sharp teeth but sighs, moans, and writhing beneath the sheets. Hands that gripped my hips, fingers banded with silver rings, holding me tight. Skin against skin, begging to be marked, claimed, and a tickle of stubble that brushed along my thighs.
I woke up with a sigh on my lips, my body aching, and tremors rippling through me as the dream faded. Hunger pulsed within me, but I wasn’t craving food.
My hand reached out, searching for the god next to me, but I came up empty-handed. I rolled over, realized I was alone, and sat up. Sunlight streamed between the thick curtains that hung over the windows. I blew a stray piece of hair from my face, a wave of disappointment and frustration replacing the lust coursing through my veins. I tossed the covers back and padded across the floor. Grabbing a sheer robe, I tossed it over my tank and lounge pants.
I headed downstairs, following the sound of voices to the kitchen.
“... that’s the problem. A lot of them don’t make sense.”
Imogen held a large journal, flipping through what looked like pictures and scribbled words. Samkiel leaned on the counter, absorbed in the images.
Right, Imogen was his advisor now. I’d killed the other one.
My stomach didn’t roll or pinch at the sight of her like before. I didn’t have that overwhelming urge to snap or claw at her. My only urge revolved around ripping those damn council garbs off Samkiel with my teeth. I just needed him alone.
“Good morning,” I said.
Imogen and Samkiel were so lost in conversation they hadn’t heard me come in. Imogen spun toward me, her eyes wide. “Morning,” she said, her tone hesitant.
“Dianna,” Samkiel stood up, “when did you….” His words trailed off as he closed the journal and slid it across the counter to Imogen.
I walked further into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, my eyes catching on the journal. “Super secret council stuff?”
“Yes, completely classified.” He smirked behind the cup he lifted to his lips, the smell reminding me of the coffee on Onuna. “Which also means I will tell you later.”
I grinned, our eyes connecting. We stared at each other, the tension nearly sparking in the air between us. Imogen cleared her throat and shuffled her feet.
“Did you guys already eat?” I asked, leaning forward to look at the assortment of grains and fruit.
“No,” Samkiel responded. “I haven’t been up that long. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I chose a piece of the toasted grains and said, “Too bad. You should have stayed. I would have woken you up. I was feeling generous.”
He choked on his drink, his face turning red as he coughed. I grinned and took a bite of the toasted grains before turning to Imogen.
“Sorry, I’ve been a bitch lately. I’m kind of a dick.” I placed my hand over my mouth as I chewed and shrugged. “Sometimes… well, most of the time.”
Her mouth did that thing again, where she looked like she wanted to speak but couldn’t.
Samkiel wiped the edge of his mouth, his eyes burning with lust. My words had hit home, and I knew he was reliving the same illicit memories that had awakened me.
A low chime broke the silence in the kitchen, and Imogen reached for a small circular device. “Sorry, that’s us.”
Samkiel cleared his throat and placed his cup down. “Okay. I apologize, but I’m needed back at the council. I do not know if I will return tonight, but I will try.”
My smile faded, and worry darkened his expression as if preparing for that viscous, vile part of me to raise its head and snap. He started to say something, but I held my hand up.
“It’s fine. I may go for a run or two. I promise I will not wither away while you’re gone. Just not six days again. Please.”
I couldn’t do the silence. I couldn’t.
He nodded, his eyes screaming how sorry he was. “Of course. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Promises, promises,” I teased, forcing a small smile.
A look crossed his face, an odd combination of lust and longing, but I didn’t have a chance to figure out what it was before he left with Imogen.
