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Ashen Blade

Page 59

by D. Kathleen McAteer

twenty-one

Golden Temptations

Elarian barely held back her gasp as Lucan’s trousers fell to the floor.

He was already aroused, cock throbbing as blood rushed to its head. That part did not surprise her—he had spent the better part of an hour with his fingers roving over her softest bits, murmuring against her ear how her beauty alone could ease the tedium of eternity.

No, what made the woman sharpened into a blade gasp was the sight of gold gleaming against his ashen skin.

A golden bar pierced through the width of his shaft.

Followed by another.

And another.

Five thick, golden bars like the rungs of a ladder decorated the underside of his cock throbbing with need as he stared at Elarian.

She had no idea whether the sight disgusted or intrigued her.

Elarian had expected the scars—most from her blade—and the lean muscles that she always felt beneath his tunic as they carved into each other’s flesh.

But gold?

Her gaze lingered on the metal glinting under the witchlights, mind scrambling to make sense of the sight. For nearly a century, she had come to know—she thought—everything about the vampire who had all but razed the moon elves to the ground. Royal-born son of the old human kingdom wiped out centuries ago, now turned blood-starved warhound for the Bloodlord in the north.

Truthfully, Elarian had never even thought someone would do such a thing to themselves. But then again, she’d heard reports of strange piercings found on the corpses of shivaem.

Vanity, perhaps?

Yet, that did not suit Lucan. He admired beautiful things, to be sure—wrapped himself in fine silks and thick furs—but underneath it all, dried blood gathered beneath his nails and ash through his snowy hair. He looked the part, but he was far from a lecherous creature who only sought luxury in their vile undeath.

No…This felt intentional.

A declaration.

A punishment?

For one horrid moment, the surety of who Lucan was wavered in Elarian’s mind.

Lucan sat down on the edge of his bed, legs spread wide, one hand resting on his inner thigh. An amused look colored his face, eyes surveying Elarian as if she were livestock. He stroked his length, pulling the skin back to reveal more of the gold mesmerizing the elf.

“I am surprised one of Aurelion’s courtesans has not seen such a sight,” he purred. “Come, and I’ll give you a taste, darling.”

Shivers crawled over Elarian’s skin.

Courtesan.

Even if the lie gained her access to the man she’d been trained to kill, the idea of betraying the remnants of her body to the mission frightened her. Duty had stripped so much from her already. Lucan scarred her flesh when others could not…Would he take that most sacred part of her, too?

No. No, this will end far before that, Elarian thought resolutely to herself.

She was close enough to play the game a little longer. Then…yes—gods, finally—then she would slip the silver dagger from the sheath at her thigh and bury the blade in the foul thing’s frozen heart.

Smoothing her surprise with a warm smile, Elarian took a step forward. “No, my prince, I’m—”

“Crawl.”

Lucan leaned forward with a devilish grin, deep veins now black around his smoldering gaze. With his free hand, he pointed at the soft rugs beneath her feet.