Page 36 of Nocturn

“Exactly, so forcing me to sit here and stare will be no help.”

I pressed the back of my hand against the bottom of my nose. Without fail, I ended up bleeding from my nose, so he had kept a cloth nearby because he ‘did not need my filthy crimson blood to taint the Creation Scripture.’

“Would you look at that? It has started again.” This time I did nothing to manage the pique in my tone.

“Here,” he said gruffly, holding out the tawny cloth. I took it from his hand. My fingertips grazed his palm as I withdrew.

My stomach turned. And I was not sure if it was excitement or fear. I shoved the cloth under my nose, turning from his too intense gaze.

“Why is it so vital for you to translate this?” I said, muffled. “Most of it sounds like overinflated droning.”

“You insult the Saints?” Humor raised his brows.

My face heated, and I mumbled, “Of course not.” I scooted closer to the edge of the seat until my toes braced against the ground. “Maybe it will help if I understand what you are searching for.”

He crossed his arms, the tunic molding to every line of his body. This one seemed especially tight. I ripped my admiring gaze away back to his angry face.

I tried to stand, and his hand on my shoulder forced me back down.

“Seven dawnlight rotations have gone by, Lord Draven. I have worked tirelessly, and with no information. None,” I continued, my words rushed. “Bloody noses, pain, and secrets have been my companions since I was dragged out of my bed and brought here.” A knot pulsed at my throat, thick and refusing to be ignored. “I will be nothing after your bondmate takes my body.” I spat. “Allow me a few freedoms⁠—”

His hand squeezing my throat cut me off. A strangled sound escaped my mouth, and I dropped the cloth I had been clenching in my hand.

“You continue to question me?” he threatened in a silky tone.

I wheezed out a breath.

A tickle trickled down my nose. His gaze followed the trail as if entranced. With his other hand, he swiped his thumb across the top of my lip. His obsidian ring flashed from the corner of my eye.

Lifting his finger, he studied the crimson staining his thumb.

“Lord Draven,” I managed.

It did not faze him. Slowly, he brought his finger to his lips, the pupils in his eyes expanding and thinning the ring of his irises. He shoved his thumb past his lips, flashing his incisors as he opened his mouth.

A shudder shook his shoulders, and his hand around my throat flexed, squeezing into the hollow dip of my neck where it joined to my chin. His eyes rose with his finger still in his mouth, and he pulled it out with another shudder.

His breathing had elevated.

“Lord Draven?” I whispered.

He didn’t react, the glaze still present. Dragging his hand down until it collided with the metal collar, he slid his finger into the space between it and my skin. I could not look away from his fangs poking out from behind his parted lips.

In a smooth movement, too fast for me to follow, he squeezed the collar. Metal creaked loudly as he crushed the clasp, as easily as if tearing through parchment.

The collar fell open and clattered on the floor.

Lord Draven wound his arms around me until I was off the ground. He dipped and sharp stings assaulted the column of my throat. My strangled cry turned into a whimper. Then he sucked, and the tug at my neck zinged between my legs. I floated on a cloud of ecstasy.

I kicked my legs out weakly, looking for purchase. Lord Draven walked me backwards until my bottom rested on the edge of the desk, the entire time not lifting from his feeding. His tongue swiped against the skin, and my hips jolted up.

The pressure of my thighs squeezing together was not enough to satiate the urge.

“You taste delicious,” he moaned against my throat.

Pleasure rippled through every nerve ending, and I could not stop writhing. My fingers tangled in the front of his tunic. I was pure sensation against him. Each time he drew another mouthful of my blood, it heightened the bliss.

Sensation spread, coating my limbs, drowsy and feverish at once.