Page 29

Chapter twenty-seven

D imitri smiled as Astrid took a bite of bread from his hand.

She was seated on his thigh, relaxed. A far cry from her arrival.

She was acclimating to her new life and obedience suited her.

His little neva could be difficult at times, but he expected the female gracing his side to be as fierce as he.

Astrid’s full lips warmed the tips of his fingers.

Her teeth gently grazed the side of his thumb as she took a bite of beef.

He upheld the silent truce between them.

If she affectionately accepted what he hand-fed her, he wouldn’t clutch each morsel and force her to lick his hand clean before offering her another piece.

Her acquiescence, while pleasant, was a strategy he recognized. She was cunning with a vicious temper. A feral cat would never know it wanted to live indoors until you captured it. He would domesticate her—curate the role she played until it was so pleasant she preferred it.

His gaze lifted to the two glittering combs she’d arranged in her hair.

What he saw was not defiance. Astrid had a taste for fine things and jewelry.

Defiance would have been slipping every pin and comb in her possession through her silky black strands.

What’s more, she’d chosen a pair of combs instead of her daggered hair sticks.

This was her asking permission.

He ran his hand through her long hair, admiring how the jewels in the shape of teardrops swayed. “You wear rubies in your hair, but you selected diamonds for your piercing.”

“We wear rubies in times of war,” Astrid answered plainly.

Dimitri chuckled, lifting another cut of swan to his princess’s lips. “Were you at war?”

“You rode in peace and ambushed my court,” she said before trailing her dark nails along his wrist. “Have the release negotiations begun for my mother?”

Astrid leaned closer, resting her shoulder against his chest as she savored her meal. Her scent of honey and wildflowers surrounded him, but it was her teasing mouth that had his cock growing hard.

A momentary touch of her lips.

The gentle graze of teeth.

The way her tongue swirled over his fingertips.

He wanted to fist her hair and shove her to her knees. She would learn to swallow his cock, working those pouting lips up and down his shaft. Beginning her education was tempting, but they were having a discussion.

“You question the Queen’s release, but not your own?” Dimitri asked, idly tracing circles over her hip.

Astrid huffed a breath and glared through the corner of her eye. “I know my freedom lies directly over your bloodied corpse.”

“You’ll never be rid of me. Not even death can separate us, neva,” Dimitri crooned. He admired her jeweled comb. Small rose-gold blossoms with rounded petals were daintily placed on an elaborate feather plume. “Are your gems the only message? Do the feathers or flowers hold meaning?”

She stilled, hesitating a moment. Dimitri grinned. They did. He remained silent, patiently awaiting what his princess would divulge.

“Phoenix feathers are an indication of royalty,” Astrid recited.

The calm mask of her expression was meticulous, but she smoothed her hair and repositioned the comb. Dimitri noted her self-conscious mannerisms. Her words were a ripple, but their true meaning ran far deeper.

“Nobility are distinguished by combs and pins with plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, or chrysanthemums,” Astrid continued.

Dimitri pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I could strip you bare, and you would still be a princess, neva. These are things they can’t take from us.”

“Then return them to me,” she argued.

The raging abyss reflected in her stare made his cock ache. “I think I should stretch your pretty cunt and make you come until you turn docile again.”

Astrid blanched as her lips parted.

“Oh yes, Princess, you even curled up to my chest when I picked you up.”

She rose and Dimitri trapped her in the curve of his wing, close but not touching. He methodically cleaned his fingers with a linen cloth.

“Get on your knees.”

Astrid blinked, swallowed, then said, “I need to see your apothecary. Or a healer.”

Stalling wouldn’t save her. Dimitri stood and spread his fingers through her hair, sensuously caressing her scalp, until he palmed the back of her head.

Her dark eyes slid closed, and a muffled sigh slipped past her lips.

His feral neva liked to be pet. Dimitri smiled before pulling the strands taut.

She drew a sharp breath, and his gaze dipped to her mouth before returning to the rage filled depths of her midnight gaze.

“Why?” he asked, stepping into her.

Astrid pulled against his hold, but her struggles were futile. She exhaled heavily and glared at him before snapping, “I need a contraceptive brew.”

Dimitri breathed a laugh. He would sire young in her, eventually. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. “Why?” he asked again. Amusement flickered through him as she blinked.

She lunged forward, yanking against his grip on her hair. “A bastard with your wings will kill me.”

Hardly. “Ledivite females have far easier births than your kind.”

Astrid’s brow pinched and her mouth went slack. "Does anything I say make it through your thick skull? You common-bred—”

Dimitri closed his hand over her throat, cutting off her argument. Malice tinged his vision. “You are mine, neva. Your births, when they happen, will be easy... And I can remedy the bastard part.”

Astrid shrieked when he hoisted her over his shoulder and turned toward the door. She shoved against his spine and screamed, “Put me down!” as he stepped into the hall.

She bounced on his shoulder with each step, and he palmed her thigh, moving higher. He found her ass bare and lowered his touch to fall between her legs. His fingertips brushed her waxed pussy and he chuckled darkly.

“Did you forget to finish dressing or is this for me?” he asked as he toyed with her diamond-studded piercing. Dimitri folded his wing over his princess’s lack of modesty as she wiggled and squeezed her legs together.

When Astrid couldn’t free herself, she hissed, “Don’t touch me.”

Dimitri bounded down the stairs, rattling her with each step. Her silken strands felt divine against his wings. She wouldn’t stroke them, but her warm breath fanned the membrane folding from his back.

“Why wouldn’t I touch you? Are you afraid of me finding out how wet you are?” Dimitri asked as he glided a finger through her slick folds. “I don’t need to touch you, Princess.” He nuzzled her hip as he turned down another corridor. “I can scent how wet you are.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Her words sounded like a vow.

Dimitri entered Vinceret’s temple. It was empty. His booted steps echoed through the large cathedral. Stained-glass windows arched into the vaulted ceilings, depicting scenes of battle and death. Fire and blades.

Empty pews rowed either side of him. Astrid’s fist closed over the leading edge of Dimitri’s wing, and he slowed his steps. He rested his chin on the curve of her ass while she twisted her body in an attempt to catch the wooden back of a pew.

He stepped closer, allowing her to clap her hand over the curving woodwork. Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes as she pulled and yanked. Did she really think she could stop him simply because she grabbed a wooden bench?

“Lord Dimitri, what can I do for you?” The male’s long crimson robes rustled as he strolled to the center of the dais, standing between the large obsidian altar and a grand, carved statue of a winged male in full battlement.

His carved features watched over his people; his hands rested over the pommel of the sword before him.

“Bind us before Vinceret,” Dimitri said, resuming his march to the altar. Astrid’s black-tipped nails raked the wood. She was strong for a little thing, but no match for him.

The priest faltered as Dimitri met him on the dais. He set Astrid on her feet and gripped her wrist, keeping her beside him.

“Bind?” Astrid asked.

She viciously fought his hold, and he herded her closer with his wing.

His feral neva exhaled heavily, then reached up as far as she could before dragging her pointed nails down the leathery membrane.

Dimitri bared his teeth as the burning sting bit, leaving thin, bleeding lines in their wake.

He snapped the joint of his wing into her side and Astrid sucked a breath, holding her ribs.

“I am not marrying you,” she spat.

Dimitri smiled in answer.

Astrid’s desperate plea was turned to the priest. “You can’t marry us. I don’t want to marry him.”

Dimitri ushered her closer to the altar, trapping her waist against the gleaming black edge. He leaned closer, pressing his chest into her back. She struggled, until she felt the hard length of his cock against the curve of her ass.

His feral neva was taking her lessons quite well. Each step she surrendered brought her closer to him. He slipped his hand down her wrist, intwining his fingers over hers.

“We worship Vinceret, God of Conquest and Blood,” he murmured against the shell of her ear. He placed their intertwined hands on the obsidian altar and outstretched his arm to the slot carved at its center.

Astrid couldn’t quite reach, but he dragged her forward, forcing her to bend at the waist. An angle Dimitri could appreciate.

This altar is the perfect height to fuck her against. He would need to tell the priests to leave. If they looked upon his naked wife, he would have to kill them and Vinceret needed his priests to perform his rituals.

“You are mine through right of conquest,” he said, crowding the altar on either side of her with his massive wings. Dimitri pitched his voice lower as his gaze lifted to the priest. “And I wish us married.”