Page 26

Chapter twenty-four

A strid woke beside a purring ball of white and gray fluff. Graymalkin sprawled beside her, and Astrid roused enough to realize why her legs were warm. Dimitri had outstretched his wing sometime after she dozed off.

“Get off me,” Astrid snapped. Her ire startled Graymalkin and her preferred method of warmth darted for the window.

The scaled bones of his wing scraped over her hip as it traveled higher.

“Don’t touch me with your animal parts,” Astrid hissed, kicking him away.

Her leg caught on the leathery membrane, and it engulfed her foot like a warm blanket.

She felt his pulse against her ankle and snatched her foot away.

Bile rose in her throat, and she scurried back, falling to the floorboards.

She righted herself and backed away. A few feet separated them when the wall beside the bathroom door chilled her back.

Dimitri’s wings folded to his side as he sat. His molten gold stare drifted over her curves before pinning her. “Keep insulting me, neva, and I’ll fuck you with them.”

Astrid couldn’t discern if he was bluffing. He couldn’t possibly—

As though he could hear the question forming in her mind, he bent the last joint of his wings until the two bones rested side by side. He gave her a knowing grin. “I’d teach you to like it.”

A twinge of pleasure shocked her. Her unbidden memory reminisced on the rough feel of his hands holding her down. The thick pressure of his cock invading her. Forcing her open as he stroked deep and hard. His lips brushing the shell of her ear as his unwanted voice replayed through her mind.

I’ll teach you to like it. You’ll crave me, Princess.

Astrid shoved the traitorous memories away and stepped closer to the bed. “You’ve had me. I demand stationery. You will have my letters delivered to my cousins.”

Dimitri lifted his chin toward the new desk that occupied the same spot against the wall. She hadn’t noticed it the night before when Dimitri kicked the door open and placed her on his bed. She moved to his closet first and paused. Every article had been placed back in its original spot.

“Shove my clothes into piles and I will flog your ass red,” he warned.

Astrid ignored him, but minded his threat.

Her fingertips brushed the hanger, and she stopped.

She didn’t feel anything inside her. No weight.

No invasion. Astrid shifted her hips and reached between her legs.

There was a dull ache, and she was tender, but her piercing was the only thing he left on her.

She smoothed her hand over the side of her neck, confirming the raised scar.

The piercing and his brand, Astrid thought.

She carefully removed a white shirt. Well, not exactly white, but a light blush embroidered with gray threads.

The material slipped over her, and she hurriedly fastened the buttons before cinching her lotus belt over her waist. She made her way to his desk and tossed the wooden hanger onto the bed. It bounced, nearly hitting Dimitri.

She took a seat and smoothed her hand over the oak ledge. It was an exact replica of the desk she destroyed with his sword.

His soft footfalls sounded behind her. Dimitri curled a length of her hair around his finger as his winged shadow fell over her.

“Take your pick of my stationery,” Dimitri said, leaning over her.

She remained still as his arm brushed her shoulder.

He reached past her and opened a cabinet door to reveal stacked trays containing different parchments.

He pointed at the pristine white pages. An embossed symbol, a red sword flanked by wings, served as a header.

“If you want to send a letter with my royal seal, they are on the bottom.”

He opened the drawer beside her next. Pens were arranged in a carved tray, each carefully placed along two notched wooden brackets.

Astrid selected a black pen and avoided his royal insignia. She took two sheets from the tray above it and began her letter.

Her jailor lingered, reading as her script spilled over the page. He had to know she wouldn’t spell out what she truly wanted to convey to her cousins. He stepped away and dressed as she signed her name.

“I need my things from home—”

“This is your home,” Dimitri interjected as he shrugged into his coat.

“This is your home,” Astrid snapped. “I don’t have clothes, or my royal seal.” She prayed daily and needed the peace of her temple. The quiet hiss of the Mothers’ Serpents. The gentle rasp as they slithered through the sacred space.

“Take me to your temple of the Three-Faced Mother.”

Dimitri chuckled. “We worship blood and conquest. If you need a god, you can pray to me.”

Astrid bared her teeth. Even her father commissioned temples of all religions to be built and allowed her subjects to practice their faith. “There are more than a dozen gods. Does Ambrose deny them to his people?”

He cruelly seized her jaw and jerked her face up before leaning in menacingly close. “Do not speak his name in my presence.”

Temper bought her punishment. And while their religious text claimed he could be killed by tying him to a stake and lighting him on fire, getting him into such a position would be a difficult task.

Astrid swallowed her rancor and softened her features to plead, “I need my temple and serpents.”

Dimitri’s grip eased and he glided his fingers down her throat. “And what are you willing to trade, my feral neva?”

Ire heated her face. “If I am yours, I would expect you to provide me with my basic needs.”

“I see to all your needs,” he purred, leaning into her. The pad of his thumb dragged over her mouth, forcing her lips apart. “Do I not, Princess?”

“A temple would give me a place to commune and reflect. Such a gift...” Astrid gazed up at him through her lashes and warmed the tip of his thumb with a kiss. “Would carry favor, my lord.”

A lavish gift, certain to infuriate the court’s nobility, Astrid mused to herself.

His mouth widened into a grin. “Will you demand the stars next?”

Astrid leaned back in her chair and hummed at him in mock sympathy. “If you wanted a female who was easily impressed, you should have kept to your rabble.”

He scrutinized her then turned his attention to her letter and neatly folded it into thirds. “Which cousin should I send the courier to?”

“Sorin in the Vermillion Palace.”

“Stay here,” Dimitri said, tapping the letter beneath her chin and lifting her face. “We wouldn’t want that pretty cunt to suffer the horrors of the Royal Legion.”