Page 33 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Lenore

I ’m not sure I’ve ever felt so small. Naked, vulnerable, scars bared, and what does Harrow do?

He leaves. I’m sure he has his reasons. Reasons I don’t want to think about.

None of it makes me feel any better as I dig for a new set of pajamas.

It’s humiliating to sneak around my own room.

I try my best not to wake the injured prince still asleep on my floor.

Things are going to be very awkward when he wakes up. I’m not in the mood to deal with it. Figuring out how I can get him out of my room before he regains consciousness is my next task. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, I summon Gestin.

The solemn captain of the guard takes one look at the slumped-over prince and dismisses the other guards to wait in the hallway. His dark eyes narrow. “Care to explain what happened, Princess?”

My cheeks flare with heat. “I heard a disturbance and went to check on Cassius. He was stumbling around, saying something about his vision being blurry. I guided him into my room to call for assistance, but he collapsed against the wall before I could help him sit.” I practiced this story in my mind at least a dozen times in the few minutes it took for Gestin to arrive.

He nods to the large body-sized indent in my wall. “And that?”

I follow his gaze. “He fell.”

Gestin huffs. I can see him weighing his options. Deciding whether or not to push the subject further. He gives me one last wary look before commanding two guards from the hallway outside to carry Prince Cassius out and summon a healer.

Guilts swims in my stomach as the guards leave with Cassius in tow. Gestin turns over his shoulder as he closes the door. “Be careful, Princess. I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

My brief glimpse into the hall shows that Gestin has doubled the number of guards that usually stand stationed outside my room. He definitely suspects something. Of course he does. My story was flimsy at best.

Sighing, I drop into an armchair by the fire. My ass has barely hit the cushion when the fireplace extinguishes. My room is plunged into darkness. When the fires reignite, Harrow is standing before me. I’m up on my feet and moving toward him. I haven’t decided if I want to embrace him or slap him.

I stop so abruptly I get rug burn on my toes.

Harrow is covered in blood.

The veil of darkness fades from his fully black eyes until his shimmering silver irises are back. “We need to talk.”

My pulse races. “What happened?”

Harrow is deadly still as a wicked smirk curls up on the right side of his face. “I found them.”

Chills stretch across my skin as I think back to the last few moments before Harrow vanished. Surely he isn’t talking about them . He was inside my mind, sorting through memories and staring at the faces of my captors. A hard lump forms in my throat. “They were still alive?”

“They were.”

I toy with my fingertips, scratching at a rough piece of cuticle until it lifts. “I thought you weren’t supposed to kill if it wasn’t their time.”

“I’m not. I had to compromise.” He reaches for me, turns my hand over, and drops three items into my palm.

There’s so much blood it’s hard to tell what he handed me. They’re similar in shape and size, with a stretchy, smooth texture that reminds me of?—

I drop them to the floor.

“You cut off their cocks?” My voice hikes up in pitch.

He smiles smugly. “Yes.”

“And then… killed them?” I blink.

Madness enters his voice. “Oh no, they’ll live.

I want them to waddle in pain and anguish, wishing for death.

My ravens will be watching, doing all they can to prolong their miserable lives.

Just when they think death has granted them relief, they’ll drop into my domain.

” Black swirls reappear in his eyes. “I have such plans for them, and none involve any relief.”

Harrow

From what I’ve seen and heard, appropriate gifts for the woman you’re courting are some variation of flowers, chocolates, or jewelry. I happen to think bringing her the severed cocks of her tormentors is far more romantic.

“Oh my god.” Lenore’s eyes haven’t left the cocks since she dropped them. Blood now coats her fair-skinned palm. The urge to slaughter her enemies and paint that milky skin red with their blood tugs at my inner demon.

Speaking of enemies .

“Where is your prince?” I eye the room. I wouldn’t mind adding his cock to the heap.

Lenore finally pulls her gaze away from the pile of chopped-off dicks. “No. Don’t even think about it. He’s gone, and please avoid cutting off any more appendages this evening.”

She scans my body, stopping to stare at the pool of blood accumulating around my boots. I am a monster and such things do not bother me. It now occurs to me that my raven may find it distasteful to be covered in the blood of cowards.

With a swipe of my hand, the blood vanishes, leaving me pristine and the floor as clean as it was before I arrived.

The severed cocks still festoon the floor. “Would you like me to remove them?”

“As opposed to leaving them there? I’m curious to know what you thought I was going to do with them long term?”

“Use your imagination, Roseheart.”

She arches a dark brow.

“They would look quite fetching on your mantle. Or maybe a necklace? That’s sure to scare away any new middle-aged suitors.

We could make a chandelier. That way we have room for new additions in the future.

People are sure to stay on their best behavior once word gets around that you’re collecting dismembered cocks. ”

She cracks a smile and a fit of laughter follows soon after. My insides turn warm as I watch her laugh, as if my organs are liquifying. I feel such strange new sensations whenever I’m with her.

She tilts her head, and my attention turns to the frilly lace collar of her velvet robe. I now realize the purpose of such atrocious attire. It hides the scar on her throat.

The laughter abruptly falls silent. Lenore raises a nail-bitten hand to cover the area.

“No.” The word growls out of me. “Don’t hide it. Not from me.”

Approaching her as I would a small, frightened animal, I reach up and lay my palm over hers. “You don’t need to hide the parts of yourself that you deem unworthy from me.”

Slowly, she lowers her hand. I keep hold of her fingers, interlacing them.

Carefully, I untie her robe at the waist. A double set of pearly buttons holds the collar closed.

With minimal effort, they pop free, allowing the robe to open, revealing a silky slip in deepest green.

Black lace trim runs along the edges of the elegant night attire.

This dress is far shorter than the last, revealing the length of her slim legs.

They’re soft, long, the muscles dormant and unbothered.

A life in luxury means she’s never had to develop the thick, protruding masses that define my body from so many fights with the damned.

Her legs are a distraction. I can’t help myself, the demands of propriety keep her hidden away in so many unnecessary layers of cages and clothing. She flinches when I return my focus to the mark that’s several inches above her prominent collarbones.

My touch is as gentle as I’m able as I brush my fingertips along the shiny, raised flesh. Lenore stiffens. I remember the way I froze up and fled when she first touched my scars and quickly drop my hand.

“I’m sorry.” She relaxes as I move my hands to her waist, drawing her closer. “I shouldn’t have peered inside your mind without permission and I shouldn’t have disappeared without a word. My intentions were good, if a bit rash.”

“A bit rash?” She lays her palms flat on my chest and narrows her crystal-blue gaze. “I was naked, exposed, and stuck with a concussed prince on my floor. Do you know how awkward it was to explain why he was unconscious in my bedroom?”

Tucking some of the strands of white hair behind her ear, I hum. “Terribly awkward, I’m sure.”

“Then you just waltz back in here with a pile of bloody penises!”

“I was trying to be romantic.”

She scoffs, but doesn’t fight me when I pull her body tighter against mine.

Giving a dramatic sigh, I lean down and plant a kiss beneath her ear. Her breath catches as my lips mark the sensitive spot. My voice is a whisper against her skin. “It looks like I have some making up to do.”

Another kiss, this one on the lower edge of her jaw.

“Definitely making up to do.” Her words are already breathy.

My mouth lands on her scar and she tenses again.

I lay my lips on and around it, softly working from one jagged edge to the other.

I spend time there, lavishing gentle attention on the place she’s been forced to hide for so long.

Eventually her shoulders lower as she relaxes against me.

Satisfied, my mouth moves lower, lips teasing the black lace top of the gown.

“You know that time in the maze… when you touched me?” Lenore sounds a bit embarrassed.

“As if I could forget the way you tasted. Or how well you took my shadows.”

She releases a small whimper. “That was the first time, well, before that I had never…”

“That was the first time anyone touched you?” My ministrations cease. A prickle of horror coasts along the back of my neck. It was rough and abrupt. Not the way anyone should experience their first intimate interaction.

“No, no. It was—” She stumbles over her words. “That was the first time my body… the first time I had that reaction to a touch.”

Snaring her gaze in mine, I clarify, “That was your first orgasm?”

She nods, her cheeks burning red.

Blood surges south. Using my hands on her waist to guide her, I walk Lenore backward.

She stares up at me, gaze flicking between my eyes and mouth.

Her back hits the damask wall, eliciting a small squeak.

Pressing my mouth to hers, I whisper against her parted lips, “It certainly won’t be your last.”