Page 21

Chapter nineteen

P ain cracked over the back of Dimitri’s head and radiated down his spine. He jolted with a roar, taking Astrid off her feet. His fingers blindly found her throat before slamming her onto his bed.

The impact stunned her momentarily. She blinked, choking for breath. Astrid lifted her chin and wedged her fingers between his, creating a sliver of space for air. Her midnight gaze narrowed on him, full of accusations.

Suka. “I think you’d be better behaved if I starved you for a day or two,” Dimitri bit out.

Astrid struggled to free herself, thrashing her head forward in a sharp motion. “If I die, you’ll have nothing to eat.”

“You’re an E’lan Vital, Princess. Tell me your soul hasn’t been stitched to your body since the moment your abilities manifested.

I could starve you to death and you would rise the next day.

” Dimitri’s death magic tore from him and engulfed her.

He didn’t bother tempering it or slowing the ravenous gouges it left on her soul.

His vicious neva tensed, hissing out a breath.

She’d repaid his kindness with violence and deserved to hurt. He took what was necessary to heal his injury and withdrew his shadows.

An unfamiliar twinge scraped at his heart, but quickly faded when Astrid slapped his hand away from her throat. His princess drew ragged breaths and flattened her palm over her sternum. Golden threads arched over her before pulling tight and the twinge in his chest returned.

Dimitri ignored the nagging feeling. “Clean yourself,” he commanded, straightening his topcoat. “We’re joining the royal table for breakfast, and I can’t have you making a mess on my thigh.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Astrid snapped on the heels of his order.

Malice swirled through Dimitri’s thoughts. He fastened his sword belt and turned toward her. “You are accompanying me to breakfast. You will walk beside me, or I’ll fit you with a collar and drag you by a leash.”

Astrid remained still, glaring daggers at him. Dimitri took a step forward. She recoiled and snapped to her feet.

“I need my combs and jewelry.”

He stepped closer again, and laced his fingers through her loose strands, making note of her micro-expressions. The tension beneath her starless eyes. The minute downturned curl at the corner of her mouth. Reactions that lasted for a fraction of a moment, but he’d seen them.

“I prefer your hair down,” he said.

The strain and tension left her eyes, and she gazed up at him with feigned longing.

“Please,” she whispered the word, leaning into him.

His princess had a penchant for theater. Dimitri stroked her cheek, soft and gentle…

“No.”

Astrid’s mask fell away, and distain once again radiated from the depts of her gaze. “I need real clothes. My legs are cold.”

“Wrap them around me and I’ll keep you warm,” he murmured.

She shoved away from him and Dimitri let her go. Her steps were as awkward as Graymalkin’s first brush with snow. The diamond-studded piercing would tease her clit, making his little neva wet until she grew accustomed to it.

Astrid tidied and adjusted her makeshift dress.

She’d ruined one of his jackets, but the view of her bare sex as she carefully bent over to slip into her heels more than made up for it.

His grip had left a dark tinge of bruises along her ass and hips, and he reconsidered why he’d even allowed her out of bed.

A smile curled the edges of his lips as he contemplated the hours she would spend tied to his bed beneath him. The little sounds she’d make as she learned to take his cock into her throat, cunt, and ass.

Dimitri adjusted his cock. He did enjoy when she fought him, but what they shared in the shower… her wanton passion was addictive. The way her soul sweetened with spiced notes of desire rather than the overwhelming heat of her rage.

Dimitri outstretched his hand when she straightened. “Come. You need a meal.”

Astrid moved to his side but didn’t take his hand. As though that would stop him. Dimitri caught her wrist and turned, but she dug in her heels.

“I’m not a pet you can command,” she snapped.

She twisted her wrist and smoothed her fingertips up his forearm. Her magic slid over him, cool on his skin like a breeze in the springtime.

Dimitri pressed an amused kiss to her temple and stepped into the hall. She followed to his disappointment. The thought of her neck wrapped in his collar had him hardening for her again. He chuckled as he led her through the halls, tucked beneath his wing.

His spoiled princess would demand her collar be encrusted with diamonds.

And rubies, he thought, recalling the trinkets she used in her hair.

He would have Keres make one for her. Astrid had bargained with him last night and Dimitri found himself silently hoping that meant she’d accepted her fate at his side.

The corridor opened to the large dining hall, rowed with dozens of tables.

The room was constructed in a mixture of stone and wood like the rest of the palace.

Spacious windows to the right overlooked a green space turned white by winter and the scent of grilled meats, bread, and pastries invaded his senses.

Astrid slowed her steps, and he ushered her closer with his wing.

He led her to the royal table, centered between the two rows.

His king sat with a redhead he didn’t recognize, and Dimitri sat to his left.

The nobleman occupying the seat beside Dimitri abandoned his place along with his breakfast. Astrid reached for the chair beside his, and Dimitri yanked her down onto his lap.

“There’s a chair, right there,” she hissed. His feral neva shoved against him and the tips of her claws bit into his chest.

He circled his arm around her waist and leaned closer.

“I like having you close,” he purred, bending the taloned joint at the top of his wing to brush her long black hair behind her shoulder.

Astrid shoved at the thick bones raising from his back and he exhaled a chuckle.

“How long is it going to take you to realize I am much stronger than you?”

Astrid ignored him and examined her surroundings. Dimitri pulled her closer, curious as to what she was cataloging.

A way out? A weapon? A means to escape him? Dimitri mused as he caressed her toned thigh.

She would find nothing useful.

He leaned forward and filled his dish with a bit of everything.

A pair of males strolled too near. The closer of the two turned his attention to Astrid.

His gaze swept over his neva, from the golden hoops along the curve of her ear to the curve of her ass perched on his thigh.

Wrath coiled in Dimitri’s chest and his palm smoothed over the end of makeshift dress, keeping her covered.

The male stretched his wing, commenting to his companion. It disturbed the air around Astrid as they passed, fluffing the end of her skirt.

The leading edge of Dimitri’s wing shot out, embedding the talon into the base of the male’s skull. He withdrew and the male fell to his knees before slumping to the floor in a growing pool of blood. Hushed murmurs broke out as the royal table was abandoned completely.

Leaving Dimitri and his king.

Astrid kept still as a guard dragged the bleeding corpse away.

No one stood within twenty feet of Dimitri but his king.

.. and Ambrose made no attempt to hide his contempt.

What Astrid couldn’t understand was why King Ambrose allowed him to behave like this?

Killing his own people. Sowing unease and discourse through his court.

Maybe they were lovers? Astrid thought wryly but abolished the thought. His disdain ran far deeper than infatuated machinations.

Astrid turned her attention to her meal. Sourdough, meats, what looked like more swan, and slices of cheese covered the plate. Did these idiots not eat fruit? Where was the jam? And why was this bread not toasted? She reached for the spongy loaf and Dimitri caught her wrist.

“You’ll be hand fed until I’ve tamed you,” he said, loud enough for those remaining to hear.

Astrid straightened her back. She’d expected to placate him in private, but if he wanted to make a spectacle of her, she would certainly give their audience something to watch.

She glanced Dimitri’s way. “You don’t have fruits or sweet wine.”

“You will eat as we do,” Dimitri said, selecting a cut of swan and bringing it to her lips. “Sweets don’t hold off the winter.”

Astrid took his hand and the room fell silent.

His molten gold stare held her as she sensuously opened her mouth.

She licked the space between his index and the succulent meat he pinched.

Her lips closed over his fingertip as she tasted the juices before daintily catching a strip of meat between her teeth, pulling it free.

She licked his hand again, a longer swipe of her tongue.

She sucked until every male in attendance imagined she was on her knees, attending to another part of their anatomy.

Astrid could play a docile pet. Their audience held no loyalty to Dimitri.

The nobles and battalion would want and envy him, and in turn, Dimitri’s jealousy would kill more guards.

An endless cycle her jailor would perpetuate until the entirety of court avoided him, leaving her a clear path to freedom.

Dimitri leaned into her, and his voice dropped an octave. “Do you enjoy sucking on my fingers, neva?” he asked. Astrid smiled sweetly. Quiet and obedient as he tore off a small piece of bread and used it to sop up the herb-infused oil of the swan.

He jogged his leg without warning, bouncing her on his knee. The motion jarred her back and drove the plug further into her ass. Astrid held still, waiting for the invasive pain to subside and he laughed, holding the bread to her lips.

“Or are you hoping one of them will save you, Princess?”

Astrid’s temper scorched her schemes, and her plots blanked from her mind. She snatched the closest utensil and swung, burying the fork’s prongs into Dimitri’s muscular chest.

She scarcely heard the gasps and chatter that broke out. The rest of the King’s court abandoned their meals and fled. The entirety of her focus centered on the golden irises that seemed to glow in the firelight.

He roughly captured her wrists and shoved them behind her.

The talon at the end of his wing sliced her as it threaded the bangles she’d been fitted with.

Realization struck, exposing the true function of her new jewelry.

His wing pulled her arms behind her, taut, and held them there.

He ripped the fork out of his chest and gripped her face, squeezing her jaw until the joint groaned.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, raising the bloodied utensil to her lips.

Astrid did as she was told and extended her tongue to flick the crimson coated tip. The coppery tang spread over her tongue as she swallowed and the fury in his eyes paled, replaced with another kind of heat.

She leaned into his hold and hummed at him. “Do you have a blood kink, my lord ?”

Fingers pulled through Astrid’s hair. An angle, Astrid noted, that could not be Dimitri’s.

“You seem to be making yourself at home with things that belong to me,” King Ambrose said, idly twirling her hair.

Dimitri yanked his king’s hand away, taking several of her strands with it. In a smooth motion, he slammed Ambrose’s hand down and staked it to the table with a steak knife. Astrid could only stare as Dimitri possessively crushed her to his side.

“Ona moia po pravu zavoevaniia,” Dimitri growled.

Astrid didn’t need to understand the implication to know she had no desire to be caught between these two volatile males.

“I am your king!” Ambrose bellowed, ripping the blade from his hand. The steel knife came away broken, the tip jutting out of the table.

Dimitri’s dark laughter filled the room as he brushed the side of his face through Astrid’s hair. He clutched her tight and she remained still, waiting for Ambrose to intervene. Dimitri would be executed for attacking their—

“No one is above our law. Not even you, my king. ”

Astrid blinked. No. Dimitri aggressed his monarch. Injured him. Attacking your king was treason in any kingdom .

She met Ambrose’s eyes, silently pleading. His irises gleamed like sunlit honey. He lifted his palm. The ruined flesh gapped and bled, but his voice remained calm. “Mend my wound, soul weaver.”

Dimitri stood, carrying Astrid away from his king.

“Nyet,” he crooned, palming her breast. Astrid gasped as he squeezed her curves through the embroidered suit jacket she’d repurposed. “My soul weaver is occupied. She’ll be too busy taking my cock to afford you attention.”

He turned to leave, and Astrid met Ambrose’s sunlit gaze. Her eyes turned pleading as she mouthed, Save me, my king.

He remained seated, doing nothing as Dimitri carried her away.