Page 34 of Nocturn

Elation bloomed in my belly.

I let out a steadying breath. It would do me no good to navigate this incorrectly. As an asset, I would have sway.

The first way I would use it was to get to Piper.

I rubbed my sternum, where our bond originated. It would only worsen. We could remain separated only for a moon rotation, or I would die while she reverted to an instinctual state.

She kept me sane in more ways than one—grounding me when I needed it.

Wraithlings were born with the child, connected to a separated portion of an umbilical cord.

Once Lord Draven’s bondmate infected my body, what would become of her? Even if she did survive, no blueblood would keep her around.

Their distaste would mean she would be alone in the end anyway.

Life with her was all I knew, even when I had to hide her existence. I had learned to keep her out of the Bjorns’ way to avoid their prejudices. Even when I was home with my family, I had to keep her secret.

We were told they were evil attachments clinging to the remaining redbloods—a reminder of our wickedness.

But there was not an evil bone in her little body.

I only hope she has comforts around her.

I could not let myself dwell on her too much when I had no power. But soon. We would escape.

I only had to get to the Archives.

One step at a time.

Liadan mentioned how he discovered I would be taken to the House of Lords. That was my opportunity to get the lay of the land.

A moan reached my ears. I tucked my hair behind my ear to listen.

An exhale came, the sound carnal.

Was he . . . I had been lying there, unable to sleep, and I had not seen a feeder enter.

The moan came again, the sound so deep I could feel the vibration graze across my skin. Moving so slowly, I pushed onto my bottom, rolled onto my knee, and lifted myself just enough to see onto the bed.

Lord Draven lay on his back alone. His ebony robe was split, exposing the long, muscled line of his body. Moonlight spilled into the bedroom, illuminating his pale flesh in silver.

He clasped his shaft in his palm. Perfectly proportioned for his large grip.

I clenched the edge of the bedding. I should turn away, but I could not force my body to behave.

He groaned, hiking his hips up, driving the member into his hand.

Saints.

His head fell back, the stiff line of his jaw tilting back to expose the long line of his throat. He dragged his palm to the thick base, squeezing it. Liquid glinted at the tip, creamy and dripping down the length. He swiped his thumb over it and dragged it down the side, caressing the thick flesh.

Discomfort kindled between my legs. No, it hadn’t just bloomed. It had been present. I was so enraptured by him . . .

Lord Draven continued to rub up and down in a steady, slow rhythm. The rubber one had not leaked at the tip this way.

Need continued to expand in my belly, seeping downward and causing a throbbing. A disconcerting sensation that I could not ignore. He rubbed to the base as his hips lifted and fell. His pace turned into how that man had rutted into the whore at the brothel.

But that was where the similarities ended. No human male could match what lay before me. He moved with feline grace, thrusting in a maddening pace.