Page 13

The sweetest perfection, and she was all my own.

The scent of her was a drug. No perfume in all of creation could compare to the aroma of her skin, her hair, the apex of her thighs. I would bottle it, drink it, bathe in it if I could. She was a walking, talking totem of perfection.

I dragged my tongue over her wrist, shivering from the rush of euphoria through my veins.

I sat on the floor, holding her hand that hung over the edge of the mattress.

I relished in the taste of her skin, the warm, thrumming pulse in her wrist. My tongue memorized the lines in her palm, the shape of her fingers, her knuckles.

Her nails were short, her digits dainty and fragile.

Teeth scraped over the meat of her thumb, and I battled the urge to bite down on tender flesh, draw blood, consume her down to the bone and carry a piece of her within me.

A light moan escaped her.

The sound of her soft breaths, the taste of her, it was agonizing. It was wonderful.

My cock throbbed in my trousers, precum soaking the fabric.

An audible groan breached me when I sucked two of her fingers into my mouth and felt the pulse in her wrist jump.

I glanced up, watching her sleeping form on the bed.

Her lips were parted, breathier sighs passing through.

Too caught up suckling her flesh, I hadn’t noticed her roll onto her back, or the way she pressed her knees together.

“Do you enjoy it when I touch you?” I knew she wouldn’t answer. She slept so soundly, and the wine had taken hold almost as soon as we entered the library. It was a miracle she hadn’t succumbed to sleep before reaching her room.

Opposite hand reaching, I brushed across her cheek and shimmering strands of hair caught in my claws. A whining exhale made her chest cave, and a full body shudder followed. A grin split my lips.

“You do enjoy it, you perfect creature.” I shifted onto my knees, leaning over the bed.

“You perfect, lovely thing. So good for me while I touch you. So responsive and delicate. I can hardly withstand the extent of my want.” I buried my face in her hair, nuzzling the tresses and inhaling her scent. “I want you so badly.”

A change in her scent punched through me.

I angled my head, staring down the length of her body and the lacy yellow nightgown she wore tonight.

A muskier, feminine scent similar to the one left in her undergarments.

Revelation snapped through me and my pupils dilated impossibly further.

My tail whipped, and my cock hardened further, fighting against the constraint of my pants.

Could it be?

Her heart beat stuttered, her breath caught, and a pulse in the graceful column of her throat ticked faster. That sweet, mouthwatering aroma filled the room, nearly making me dizzy. I shook my head, but my vision blurred.

Arousal . She was aroused in her sleep.

“Gods-fuck,” I snarled. Her blanket complained, the fibers nearly tearing beneath my claws as I fisted them on the bed. I needed to leave before I went too far, but she was reacting to me. She was aroused because of me. I caused it. I owned it.

I dragged myself up, practically drooling as her scent enveloped me. Her thighs parted as if unconsciously expecting me to lean forward and lick her. And fuck, I wanted to.

Her thighs tasted so good. Sweet with a hint of salt.

A treasure—a dessert. I blew on her skin and goosebumps flared out.

Her nipples peaked against the yellow lace.

A throb of pure burning heat zipped through me.

One hand curled around her knee, gentle with the claws, and pulled them further apart. My opposite hand freed my aching cock.

“Have mercy,” I begged nameless, faceless gods .

Her quim was wet. Dripping at the seam.

I licked my lips, breathing harder as I stroked myself.

Her cunt was divine. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. Walking with her, talking with her, and refraining from touching her had ruined me. It was the second worst form of torture compared to this—of looking, of being so close, and not taking.

Pleasure seized me as I jerked off, rutting into my fist with nothing more than her intoxicating scent and the image of her alluring cunt.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I would drive myself insane.

I wouldn’t come back again.

A surge of power disturbed Infernus.

Through the night, scouts returned to the castle, each one carrying a report of seeing a storm of red against the darkness.

Inferni felt the power, the magic. Across the vast distance of the realm, I felt it too.

An incomprehensible blast that made my blood sing and the fur on my limbs stand on end.

The previous disturbances were whispers comparatively.

Well past the middle of the night, I lounged on my throne, tail swishing idly as I calculated how many Inferni remained.

The line seemed endless, stretching to the lofty arched entrance.

Formless, amorphous, varied in shape and size, there was no telling how many citizens had come to be heard.

Domovoy sat at my feet, heralding the name of each petitioner or scout.

We shared glances each time one mentioned the power surge and lingering far away red light.

“There is a stain in the sky, my prince!’

“It’s the end of days!”

“Half my flock has gone missing…”

“Your Highness, what does this mean?”

As much as it pained me, I didn’t know. I knew the feel of magic, the taste of magic.

I heard it humming in the marrow of my bones.

That didn’t equate to an all-encompassing knowledge as much as it stung my ego to admit.

What good were the generations of tomes in my possession if they didn’t provide answers?

I needed to devote my spare time to the archives and scour the pages for mention of such a strange red power.

Thoughts of the library spurred thoughts of her.

My creature, my woman with no name. Now there was something better to put my mind to.

Where had she come from? I presumed mortal earth based on earlier research, but there was more to her.

If only she hadn’t been so tired earlier in the night, I could have shown her exactly how deep the library was.

Perhaps lure into a darkened alcove, crowd her space, tell her how pretty she was, leaned in to feel the breath on her lips…

Dawn inhaled the weight of night, and an imp escorted the final petitioner from the hall. An ache pounded against the inside of my skull, and I rubbed at my temples to ease the tension. One problem after the next. More mysteries and questions loading up my plate and wobbling precariously.

“Something came through another portal, do you think, master?” Domovoy’s bottle-brush tail swiped against my leg as he paced the base of the throne. I nudged him away and growled. He snickered, thrilled to be a nuisance, before pouncing on the arm of the throne.

“Potentially,” I sighed.

The candles on his head danced under my exhale. He merely tipped his head, eyes narrowed. “You can no longer deny the danger.”

“I haven’t,” I snapped. “Scouts aren’t enough. Send soldiers to investigate the source of the red light.”

“Yes, master.” Domovoy stretched languorously, as if summoning the energy for his impressive task. He squatted to jump down before pausing, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder. “And what of the girl?”

Claws scraped over the arms, gouging grooves into the ancient stone seat. Domovoy winced from the ear-piercing noise. A low growl tore from my throat as I glowered at him.

“What of her?” I snapped.

“Couldn’t it be… related?” His voice was low, wary. Domovoy enjoyed overstepping at the best of times, but he sensed the underlying threat now.

“Related?” I barely grated the word through my teeth. With effort, I sucked in a breath and leaned in the chair once more. Domovoy’s hackles lowered as I steadied my trembling fury.

“She was running from something, wasn’t she?” he asked.

“I assume so.”

“And likely fell through a portal.”

“Obviously.”

“So, master, what if whatever she was running from is still looking for her?”

“Nothing can take her from me!” I roared. Domovoy leapt from the throne, scampering further away. “She is here with me. She is mine now!”

“Yes, I understand. I won’t bring it up again unless necessary.” The cat dipped his head, his candles nearly brushing the marble flooring as he backed away. “But…” He hesitated to leave.

“But what?” I wanted to rip his head off. My claws flexed, digging into my palms as they longed to rip apart flesh.

“If you intend for her to stay here… she will need a name.”

Fuck, I really hated when that cat was right.

I shoved down the inarticulate desire to reach across the castle in search of her. An itch persisted in my fur when she wasn’t near, and I needed to scratch it, scratch it, scratch it . Any number of high ranking Inferni would savage their enemies for such a prize.

And I’d gotten to her first. I flushed with pride to think of it.

A door closed, and my head snapped up. I recognized the cadence of her elegant steps seconds before silvery blue hair rounded a lofty bookshelf. My heart kicked higher, and my tail coiled with anticipation.

Her lashes fluttered, her stare almost dreamy as she faltered at the sight of me. She flicked her glimmering sapphire eyes over my crossed ankles, up my black trousers, to my arms, crossed over my chest, and finally landed on my face. Pink tinted her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.

“You’re here,” I said as a way of greeting.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, it appears I am.”

“Having second thoughts?” An insensible chuckle escaped me.

“No!” she blurted. “No, not about learning to read, it’s—” she held her hands close to her chest as she side-eyed me, chewing her plump bottom lip as she did, “—well, I suppose I had strange dreams.”

“Anything of note?” My ribs clenched around my erratically beating heart.

I inhaled slowly to retain my composure.

I pulled a chair out from the secluded table at the back of the library.

We would be perfectly alone in the comforting embrace of shadows, books, and the permeating warmth of a fire in the nearby fireplace.

She avoided my eyes as I pushed the chair in for her.

I took the opportunity to admire the column of her neck curving into her shoulder and the threads of hair splayed there and down her back.

What I wouldn’t give to reach out and brush those strands from her shoulder.

To feel her skin and watch her pulse skip at my touch.

My fingers twitched, but I refrained. Barely.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “Strange things I wouldn’t know how to describe, anyway.”

A heady scent rose with her normal smell.

That sweet-musk perfume of desire I’d grown familiar with in the darkest hours of the night.

My eyes widened as I stared down at her, still close enough to touch, to feel her gentle warmth.

Had she dreamt of me? Was she aroused just being in my presence as I was for her?

A hesitant smile turned up at me, and I realized I’d been standing over her, gulping in her scent like a deranged fiend.

I settled myself into the adjacent seat and swallowed the cloying hunger on the back of my tongue.

I needed to pull myself together if we were going to survive these reading lessons.

My eternal damnation sat beside me, and I was barreling closer to the edge with each passing moment.

A vacuum of longing, and with those sapphire doe-eyes looking up at me, I was inevitably sucked in.

A civil interaction was needed to classify the lessons, or our time together, as a success.

A woman of her caliber needed to be wooed, and I believed I could endear myself to her.

She had a wise innocence about her, something about the ageless, fathomless depths in her eyes…

I shook myself free of my spiraling thoughts.

A few moments passed as I arranged parchments and books, all the while aware of her staring at me. Her brows were slightly pinched, mouth pursed, as if contemplating an unsolvable puzzle. I felt like the specimen of her conundrum.

When we locked eyes, she blinked and fiddled with a loose sheet of paper at the edge of the table.

Her lips parted as if searching for words to say.

Instead, she pinched her mouth and stared off into the swaying fire, watching embers spit and flicker in the air.

A tension hung between us like a fog, rife with uncertainty and unknowns.

“Before we get started, I was thinking,” her head snapped up, tipped sideways as she observed me, “we should start with something simple. One of the first things most learn when reading and writing is how to spell your name.”

Her expression fell and her shoulders slumped. “But I don’t have a name.”

“Right.” I stroked my chin, pretending to think as if I hadn’t agonized over this suggestion all night. “What if I provided a name for you?”

A light blazed in her eyes. Like a supernova erupting, morphing into thousands of new galaxies.

My blood sparked in my veins and a burning flush doused me from head to tail.

Her innocent and eager expression purified my desire to name her.

It was only because she was mine, because she belonged to me. It was only right that I named her.

“A name of my own.” Yet her voice drifted off. She stared over my shoulder at the wall, unseeing and distant. With one simple suggestion, she had abandoned me as her mind drifted to another life, another world. She had gone back to wherever she came from and left me in darkness.

“Yes.” Her hair felt silky after her morning bath. She smelled like the floral soaps the imps bathed her with. A shudder trembled through her as I brushed her hair over her shoulder. Her breath caught when my fingers lingered at the base of her neck. “How do you like the name Astoria?”

A maudlin smile curved her lips upward. Not quite a genuine show of joy, but appreciative. She nodded before dropping her attention to the parchment on the table. “It seems I will never be what—who—I was before. Then I must be Astoria from now on.”