Page 70 of Nocturn

I arranged the bottom of my gown so the panels covered me more appropriately.

“I do not want you to be confused,” she began. There was an internal battle inside her when I met her blue eyes. “I have been in His Highness’ service for ages. He has never cared for anything. Truly, I believe he is incapable of it. Once the whimsy ends, he will leave you broken, and I . . .” She made a sound. “I do not wish your final moon rotation to be in agony over a love he can never give.”

My insides roiled, and I remained silent. He had chosen me over the other feeders? If there was no capability to feel, why make the distinction? Why warn me?

She had known him much longer, but his actions did not fit together.

Her nostrils flared with her exhale. “This is my warning to you. Do not mistake me.”

I opened and closed my mouth. Instead of responding, I inclined my head.

She turned away from me, staring out the split curtains at the foliage passing.

I reeled. I was not foolish enough to believe I would make the Warlord care for me.

The carriage jerked and slowed; the horse neighed from outside. With another shudder, it stopped, and within moments, the door was opened.

“Make haste. He was not in a pleasant mood,” Lady Drusilla advised.

I left the carriage, using the handles to help me down the steps, strode past an officer, and went up the steps. The huge doors were ajar, and I slid inside, leaving the sunlight behind me as darkness engulfed the foyer.

Walking through the Citadel felt odd after being at the House of Lords for so long. Anticipation kept my pace quick. Once I reached the final landing to reach his chamber, I slowed to catch my breath.

This will go well. I would serve him, and that is all.

I entered his chamber. The leftover chain still hung where it was attached around the base of the bed frame. His bed was carefully made with a black fur blanket spread across. A pile of torn, bloody clothing lay near the entrance.

He stepped out of the bathing chamber, and I slowed.

Lord Draven rubbed the towel across the top of his head. He stilled, gaze lifting to pierce me. A few beads of liquid clung to his alabaster shoulders.

“I came to bathe you⁠—”

My words cut off as he took hold of me, hoisting me into his arms. The move jostled a slipper off one foot. He struck his fangs into the side of my neck and fed.

I cried out, the wave of pleasure wracking through my frame. Instinctively, I lifted my legs to brace my thighs against his nude waist. His thick length prodded my bottom, but the dress limited the skin-to-skin contact.

His tongue swiped across the punctures, the wet sensation sending shivers down to my toes, and they curled.

He stepped toward his bed, and I lost the second slipper.

Saints, I missed him—his body! Not him, just his body.

He moaned against my neck. Every one of those thoughts evaporated.

“Your taste drives me mad.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Obsession

My fingers clutched his shoulders harder. Using my legs braced at his sides to arch my spine, I tried to get as close to him as possible to sate the ache between my thighs. With his next suck, my channel clamped repeatedly from another release, stealing my ability to breathe.

His hand slid down my side to grip my bottom, his long fingers clasping the flesh hard. Pleasure rippled outward, and he strode to the bed, sitting so my knees braced on his thighs. He pulled back from my neck with a final long lick that wrenched a moan free.

“Draven,” I panted, bracing my hands on his shoulders.

His lips parted, and his steel member twitched between us. Liquid gathered at the tip, the flushed flesh visibly throbbing. I craved his pleasure with a ferocity that should have stunned me. He watched me with narrowed focus, his eyelids thinned.