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Chapter twenty-six

A strid stood at the door, listening to the soles of her captor’s boots scrap the polished stone tiles. They slowed to a stop, and agitated rage scraped her nerves.

He wanted to punish her and thought she was fool enough to immediately disregard the rules he’d set.

She paced a few steps, reassessing his space. The window near the closet yawned open a few inches. Astrid rubbed her arm and moved to the glass. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, unsure if Graymalkin would understand her meaning.

“Graymalkin,” Astrid called.

A trail of snow had been disturbed, leading from the window to the hedges boarding the wall.

He would be sitting in inches of snow and had to be cold.

Astrid waited for the fluffy cat. Minutes ticked by and the cold chilled her legs.

She left the window open a crack and took a last look over the wintery landscape for her fluffy companion.

He’s not out here , Astrid reminded herself. The cat probably had more than a dozen rooms he frequented.

Turning away, she went to Dimitri’s nightstand and opened the drawer. Her brows drew together. Her pins and combs were organized in neat vertical rows, arranged by size, but it was the dark pouch that commanded her attention.

He’d held her in the cage of his arms, fucking her while the metal plug filled her ass. The weight of her shame crushed her. She hadn’t endured the things he’d done to her. She came for him more times than she could count, arching her back and begging him to fuck her slower.

Astrid snatched the pouch, and the ring of metal deepened her rage. She marched to the window and hurled it into the snow garden. Dimitri would never touch her—

Graymalkin bounded out of the hedge dragging the black pouch by its drawstrings. He dropped it on the window ledge and tilted his head up as though he expected head scratches.

“No,” Astrid hissed as she retrieved her torture devices and frantically brushed the snow away. She glanced at the door and rushed back to the nightstand. The metal contents clanked as she arranged the pouch in its original position.

She took a calming breath and shifted her attention to the embellishments he’d stolen from her. Astrid settled on the two smallest combs and carefully slid the drawer closed. She stood before the mirror and twisted her hair beside her temple.

Astrid examined her reflection. With everything he’d done to her, taken from her, leaving her hair down without ornamentation made her feel the most vulnerable.

The most naked.

Royal females were distinguished by their combs and pins. Brilliant decorations indicated their house and standing. Astrid slipped her first comb in place. Delicate golden flowers accented with phoenix feathers gleamed in the firelight; teardrop rubies dangled from delicate chains.

Astrid positioned the second comb and exhaled. If she’d known she would be taken prisoner, she would have worn her jade and diamond set. Rubies were worn in times of aggression, signifying the blood she was willing to spill. What she’d worn as a warning was now all that remained of her threats.

The door clicked and Astrid’s pulse accelerated. To her surprise, it calmed when Dimitri stepped in. The evil you know is better than the anticipation of a threat , she self-soothed.

He spared her a glance and strolled to his desk with a folder and a plate piled with meats and bread. The scent of rosemary and beef braised with red wine ignited her hunger.

Astrid held still as he approached. He bypassed her and went to the adjacent sink instead.

Water flowed and he leisurely washed his hands before leaving her to take a seat.

The male occupied the only chair in his room and turned to face her.

A quick inventory of his desk had her frowning at the lack of utensils.

She approached him, centering her attention on the folder instead of her breakfast.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, then glanced at the folder and back to her.

His next move surprised her. She was certain he would dismiss her curiosity as her father had.

She’d lost count of how many times her father slid letters, maps, and documents away from her, assuring her it was nothing she should concern herself with.

Astrid stared at the folder as Dimitri lifted it from the desk and offered it to her. She took it, scrutinizing the powerful male. Was it a test? Would he punish her for daring to open it? She tensed, ready to retaliate if he attacked her the moment she opened the folder.

She flipped the thick parchment and exhaled a breath to steady herself, anticipating his assault...

He didn’t move. Only stared at her.

Astrid blinked. Her heart slowly found a calmer rhythm.

She said nothing as she studied the portrait of a winged male.

He wore layers of wool and mink. A puffed hat decorated with a feather topped his dark hair.

The page beside it contained information.

Apparently Morstril enjoyed hunting and left a portion of his kills as a weekly offering within the temples dedicated to conquest. The page listed his routine, where he could be found each day. His habits.

“Who is he?” Astrid asked.

“A lord who profits on information,” Dimitri answered, bemusement alight in his golden eyes.

A traitor then . “Are you setting an example or arranging a disappearance?” A smile broke over Dimitri’s lips, causing Astrid to bristle. She snapped the folder closed. “What? Should a female not understand the distinction?”

“I would expect nothing less from the princess who carved my chest and split my aorta.”

His words cooled her temper. Soothed it.

Dimitri leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Would you have done the same to my king?”

He baited her with words of treason. What game was he playing? Did he want her brought to the throne room and whipped?

“Would you protect him?” she asked. Testing his loyalties without incriminating her own.

Dimitri’s laugh startled her. It was full and rich, reaching all the way to his molten gold stare. “No. I would send you to his bed… but I’m not a male who shares.”

Astrid weighed his words.

“You obviously hold animus for each other. Why are you here?” she asked.

His features dimmed as his humor drained from him like streaming droplets in a steady spring rain. “We’re cursed with each other through unfortunate circumstance.”

Astrid hadn’t expected him to answer, and his cryptic words made her wrinkle her nose.

He gazed up at her, considering her for a moment. Two.

“I promised my mother I would serve this court,” he said.

Astrid moved closer, stepping between his legs until she brushed his knee. She had the errant urge to smooth his hair and comfort him. Astrid buried the impulse. She would not let idiotic sympathy cloud her calculations.

“Why this one? What court does she belong to?”

Dimitri’s stare shifted to the snowy landscape through the window. “My father killed my mother. I was his intended target, and she was an unintentional consequence,” he whispered. A smile woven in bitterness exposed his straight white teeth. “I killed him all the same.”

Astrid let his words sink in. Before she could contemplate a response, he curved his wing. The heavy bones pressed into the back of her thigh, ushering her closer.

She glared at his offending appendage, and he drew his wing away. His fingertips replaced his wing, caressing her and stopping beneath the hem of his shirt she used as a dress. His touch intimate, instead of demanding.

“I learned to control my curse after her death,” he said, tracing light circles on the side of her thigh.

He chuckled then and lifted his chin toward his bed.

“Which is why you survived your little assassination attempt. Soul Drinkers, Death Spirits of legend, require proximity to consume their victims,” he said.

His eyes lowered to her lips. “Usually during an embrace.”

His ravenous stare lingered, and his gentle touches heated her blood.

His voice lowered. “My abilities reach a mite farther.”

He parted his lips, and the slow drag of serrated teeth covered every inch of her skin. Gentled. Exquisite.

And capable of causing horrific pain, if he so chose.

She was caught in the jaws of a monster. Instead of devouring her, he held her captive. Delighting in every breath—every utterance—he elicited past her lips.

Her senses heightened, drowning her in ecstasy. The trace of his fingers. The pull of her garment over her nipples as she swayed on her feet. The ache between her legs only he could ease.

The haze of excruciating pleasure receded, and Astrid’s mind cleared. Her heart pounded, her skin was flushed, and this fucking male looked all too pleased with himself.

He pulled her down and she took her place on his thigh.

He pinched a cut of beef and lifted it to her mouth.

Astrid took his hand and leaned in, taking hold of the morsel with her teeth.

She pressed her thumb to his forefinger, and to her surprise, he let go of the slice of beef.

She took it into her mouth and chewed, astonished he didn’t demean her by making her lick and suck her breakfast from his fingers.

Dimitri lifted another cut of meat and smiled at her.

“After you finish your meal, I’ll have your lips on my cock.”