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But I was in the mood for messy.

I smacked my hand down on his mouth, silencing his screams as my other hand slammed into the vampry’s chest, punching through bone and cartilage. My fingers sank into the bastard’s heart. With a savage yank, I tore the organ from his chest. The Ascended squirmed, his eyes wide as blood gushed from his chest and coursed down my arm.

“Should have stayed out of the woods tonight,” I said, squeezing the heart until there was nothing but gore and mush left behind. Until the vampry ceased its useless thrashing.

I rocked back as clumps of tissue fell from my hand. I wiped it as clean as I could on the Ascended’s breeches, and then I grabbed the fucker by the hair and dragged him toward the edge of the Grove. I hauled him up and tossed his corpse over one of the heavier, low-hanging branches, where others of his kind would eventually discover him. If not, the sun would finish him off when it rose.

Stepping back, I returned to the worn path, glancing at the spot where the Maiden had disappeared. Smiling, I started back toward the Citadel, whistling softly.

HAUNTED

Sinking into the hot water of the hip bath, I thought about what I’d do for a shower, but since Atlantian infrastructure was apparently the only thing the Ascended hadn’t been stealing, I’d have to make do.

Except I couldn’t even extend my damn legs.

Cursing under my breath, I grabbed the soap from the nearby stool and got down to scrubbing it through my hair and across my skin. I’d already gotten most of the blood off since I wasn’t in the mood to soak in what remained of the vampry on my flesh.

My thoughts wandered as suds gathered on the surface of the hip-deep water, revisiting Emil’s news about Alastir and my parents. Knowing Emil, he was already well on his way out of the city with Arden. He would do as I asked, delaying the inevitability of Alastir discovering what I’d been up to.

What I would soon do.

With my knees bent, I leaned back and rested my head on the copper rim. My eyes closed, my thoughts veering to the Maiden—not to what I planned to do, but to what had happened only a handful of hours ago. Not the best of decisions since a throb hit my dick, thickening it.

I was getting hard thinking about the Maiden.

“Gods,” I muttered, a rough laugh leaving me as I dragged a hand over my forehead.

A month ago, it never would’ve crossed my mind. It wouldn’t have even been possible, and that had nothing to do with the shapeless white gowns I’d seen her in or the fact that I had no idea what she truly looked like. It was what she was. A virginal, untouched Maiden and nothing about seducing or being with an actual maiden was my kind of thing. Not because of her lack of experience. I could give two shits about that. Pleasure could be learned. It was the value placed upon such a thing. The idea that her entire being was tied to her virginity. That prevented me from even looking at her in such a way.

It was what she symbolized.

The Ascended.

I’d assumed she was a fully willing participant in the role she played. I should’ve known better than to assume shit because I’d obviously been wrong.

My eyes cracked open into thin slits. It made me wonder what else I could be wrong about when it came to her. Like maybe what she knew about the Ascended. Or what she really thought about how she lived.

I shook my head, not wanting to think about any of that because it led to nowhere good. Just as thinking about how she’d felt beneath me, soft and warm, was leading nowhere good. My dick didn’t agree with that, though. It was all on board with my thoughts and memories, hardening and quickly feeling full and too damn sensitive as the tip jutted from the water.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running my palm over my face as the fingers of my other hand pressed into the copper side of the tub.

My hand dropped from my face and fell beneath the water. Thinking of how instinctually and eagerly she’d responded to my touch, I gripped myself at the base of my erection. The breath I took was too shallow. She’d seemed so shocked by the prospect of asking for anything and receiving it, as if doing so had never occurred to her. Had never been possible. Clearly, it hadn’t because she hadn’t known what to ask for. She hadn’t known how to put into words what her body ached for.

But she’d shivered in anticipation when I unfastened her cloak. In my mind, I could still see the sweet swells of her chest rising sharply and straining against the tight material, revealing the darker skin beneath, the deep, rosy hue of the tips of her breasts clearly visible through the thin fabric of her gown. Never in a thousand years would I have thought the Maiden had such glorious breasts, soft, strong thighs, and a blade-sharp tongue.