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Chapter seven

A strid understood her virginity would be bought and traded like a gambling marker.

She was a princess. A symbol of Clorea. A commodity to be exploited for the success and longevity of her kingdom.

She’d always believed she would control the grounds of her inevitable surrender.

If an overly enthusiastic male overstepped her boundaries, she would cripple him for a month or two with a mere touch.

Every comfort and certainty she’d once held cracked as the chilled metal trailed up her thigh.

Rage kindled and blazed beneath her skin as her mind raced. She wasn’t going to bleed for this monstrosity, and he wouldn’t be fucking her with a filthy piece of metal.

“I am betrothed to your king.” Astrid had seen the golden stars illuminating King Ambrose’s soul. Her magic would work on him.

Dimitri’s expression hardened at the mention of his monarch and the tip of the sword handle stilled on the edge of her narrow skirt.

Relief stole her breath and Astrid shoved it down. She was far from safe. Astrid clung to her rage and let the cruelty in her convictions drip from her words. “I will ask my king for your head as a wedding gift.”

A flash of teeth gave her hope, then the ground fell away as the corners of his mouth pulled into a dark smile.

“He’s your sovereign, Princess,” Dimitri replied, casually admiring the panel of silk between her legs.

The snow-chilled planks rattled against her back and Astrid hissed.

She’d raised the stakes, and he called her bluff.

Astrid took a deep breath and centered her mind.

Fear wouldn’t take her. Her dignity and temper were her armor.

He might spill her blood, but she would trap his soul.

Her pain would be fleeting and his would stretch for centuries.

He lifted his sword into her view and the fine material of her skirt slid across the leather-wrapped handle.

“I have no king, neva.” His tone grated her temper as the length of her peacock silk slipped from his weapon and pooled beside her hip.

His molten gold stare lowered to the junction of her thighs and her cheeks heated as he took in the lace embroidery covering her.

“Ambrose made no kills,” Dimitri crooned as his gaze lifted, pinning her. “I killed dozens within your palace walls, and you are mine by right of conquest.”

Astrid swallowed her revulsion as his fingertips caressed her hip and hooked under the strap of her thong. She concentrated on her breathing. If she couldn’t maneuver his soul, she would break his body.

His touch skimmed lower, and Astrid used the wing trapping her arms as leverage. She rotated onto her hip and snapped her leg to her chest before kicking out her heel, aiming for his throat.

Dimitri’s wing intercepted her blow. The leading edge of his wing scraped down the length of her leg as clashing sword edges would. Their limbs crashed and the talon at the top of his wing splintered the wooden floor, inches from her face.

He cruelly shifted his knee over her remaining thigh.

His weight cut into her muscle and Astrid clenched her jaw.

She twisted her hands, sliding her nails along the claw trapping her wrists.

Her magic swept into her vision. The vortex of shadows pulsed in his chest, completely unaffected by her will.

“Relax. I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” Dimitri said, sweeping the peacock silk away from her breasts. The pad of his thumb circled her tightening nipple and Astrid thrashed. He laughed, continuing his exploration. “You’ll beg for my touch before long.”

“Serpents devour you,” Astrid hissed. She stared past him at the intersecting trim holding the dark tapestry in place above them.

Her face heated each time he roughly pinched or tugged on her sensitive peaks.

The pain woven in pleasure burned her. Shame warred with her temper.

Her resolve teetered on the edge of fear’s abyss.

No . Astrid exhaled. She would lay waste to Ledivion; this was the first battle in a long war.

This is nothing. He is nothing, Astrid chanted in her mind like a mantra.

Dimitri squeezed her breast, and the heat of his mouth closed over her nipple. Astrid’s breaths grew short as he licked and sucked, teasing her with his tongue and a hint of teeth.

Another sensation flickered within her. Serrated teeth meant to rip and tear at her soul, held her gently, sensually caressing her—body and soul.

Her lids fluttered in ecstasy as glimmers of her soul swept into the current of his shadows. Pleasure blanketed her mind. Each teasing lick heightened her euphoria and intensified the dull ache between her legs.

She didn’t care when the rounded pommel nudged her thong aside. The smooth metal pressed to her clit and Astrid rocked against it, desperate to come.

Dimitri’s lips trailed along her throat. The embroidery stitched into his vest scraped over her nipples and Astrid arched her back for more contact. He was winter descended upon her. His scent was clean and ruthless, trapping her with notes of warmth.

“You taste divine,” he groaned into her hair.

Dimitri moved his sword handle lower. The blunt tip pressed into her cunt, stretching her.

Astrid’s eyes snapped open at the cold pressure. Her mind was clouded, and she blinked at the cloth swaying above her. Gray panels streaked in pinks and oranges as the sunlight permeated them. The material had the oddest pattern of intersecting lines.

Veins, Astrid realized. The panels were Dimitri’s membranous wings unfurled above her.

Wings pinning her to the floor of a carriage.

Wings she hated.

“Stop,” she breathed, fighting the haze.

Astrid had the palace apothecary make her the aphrodisiac she would take on her wedding night. She’d wanted to know what to expect before taking it in front of a male she didn’t know. It had made her wet and heightened every touch, but it paled in comparison to this.

The sensation of his magic enveloped her, and pleasure saturated her mind.

A moan slipped past her lips as the hilt of his sword pressed deeper.

She came hard, her cunt squeezing the leather and metal as he fucked her with long, forceful strokes.

The stinging discomfort she’d objected to was long forgotten in the rain of bliss.

Dimitri chuckled. “I can taste you coming.”

His words tore the fog from Astrid’s mind. Her captor crouched over her. She couldn’t see his face while he kissed her throat, but she had a view of his shoulder. His muscles rhythmically rippled back and forth as the handle of his sword stroked in and out of her.

Astrid twisted beneath him, unable to escape. “Get off me.”

“Come for me again and I’ll let you up,” Dimitri groaned.

Astrid couldn’t move and her deranged captor outweighed her. His disgusting wings gave him a steep advantage. He’d effectively restrained her and still had both hands to torment her with.

He couldn’t fuck her if he was bleeding out.

She spread her legs and rocked her hips in time with his strokes, swallowing a moan.

“Kiss me,” she whispered breathlessly.

Astrid struggled to remain clearheaded as Dimitri lifted his head. His molten gold stare met hers, then lowered to her mouth.

“Please,” Astrid whimpered.

His lips met hers. A quiet, untrusting, chaste kiss.

Frustrated, Astrid lifted her face to his, sweeping her tongue across his lips and into his mouth.

She deepened the kiss and fell back onto the carriage floor.

Her pleasure-addled mind threatened to usurp her plans.

She arched her back while the hilt of his sword was thrusted inside her.

Astrid clung to her plan with feral desperation.

The fool took her bait. He slanted his mouth over hers and she submitted for him, opening wider. His tongue slid over hers once. Twice.

On the third stroke, she snapped her teeth together and bit down hard. A pained growl answered her but the trickle of blood flowing over her tongue was hardly the torrent she’d hoped for. Tongues came out so easily with tools, she’d imagined biting them off would be the same.

His hand closed over her jaw, crushing her cheeks into her teeth until the pain forced her to relent.

Dimitri pulled away and a pair of fingers invaded her mouth before she could close her lips. Dimitri’s golden stare caught hers, daring her.

Astrid left his fingers on her tongue and stared up at him. His thumb hooked under her chin, and he withdrew his fingers before pressing them back into her mouth.

“Show me how well you’ll suck my cock, neva,” Dimitri commanded. When she remained still, he withdrew his sword to its pommel and pressed the length of the handle into her. She winced. “Do it or I’ll fuck your needy cunt with the sharp end.”

Astrid swallowed her pride and sealed her lips around his fingers.

“Good girl,” Dimitri murmured. “Now suck and use your tongue.”

Humiliation abraded her soul each time his index and middle finger slid past her lips. It was uncomfortable but he didn’t press far enough to make her gag and choke.

The sword remained buried deep within her while the rhythmic pace of his fingers gently coaxed her mouth.

He’d stopped thrusting into her, but Astrid was still at a loss.

His thumb glided along her pussy. Astrid tossed her head, protesting as he teased her clit.

The sensation was overwhelming, and she grew taut beneath the onslaught.

“Are you always this sensitive, Princess? Or just after you come?”

Her heart pounded as the tension within her pulled tighter. Dimitri’s magic was affecting her. She’d touched herself, had even used toys, but it’d never been like this.

“Come for me, neva,” he purred, stroking slower. “Rock your hips and fuck yourself on my sword.”

Serpents, devour him. She would dedicate the rest of her life to his suffering. She would peel the skin from his body and use it for a gown.

Astrid lifted her chin, tilting her head back. Dimitri’s fingers slipped from her lips, and she cried, “Slower.”

She panted as he relented. When he reinserted his fingers, she sucked on them, twirling her tongue over the tips.

He wanted a plaything, and she needed him close to deliver a killing blow.

Astrid closed her eyes and rolled her hips, concentrating on the feel of the handle inside her, the friction on her clit. These were toys and she was in her bed.

A lie she couldn’t force herself to believe with the scent of a winter night surrounding her. His molten gold eyes invaded her thoughts. The feel of his mouth haunted her. She rocked harder, taking the leather wrapped metal deeper. The pressure built to a knife’s edge and snapped as she came.

She gasped as Dimitri suddenly released her, withdrawing his hand and sword while her traitorous cunt mourned the loss. Hatred and shame burned deep within her as he adjusted her thong to cover her once more.

Astrid knocked his hand away and rose to her feet.

She’d expected him to rush her, to grab her by the throat.

She’d braced for a fight and the bastard gave her his back.

He nonchalantly returned to his seat, and she wanted to shriek.

She was the Anima Carnifex. Males sobbed when she approached their cells.

Astrid’s mood turned somber as she adjusted the peacock silk over her breasts. A myriad of red marks covered her, depicting the desecration she’d suffered at his hands and teeth. Tension straightened her spine.

Had he desecrated the temple as well? Butcher the serpents? Foxglove?

“You bled on my sword.”

Astrid’s hateful gaze snapped to her captor. Dimitri held his weapon by the scabbard and turned it. The setting sun reflected over the sword hilt. The pommel and leather glistened in a mixture of streaked crimson and her arousal.

“My virgin blood stains your…”

She couldn’t name it. Saying it aloud would embed it in truth. Vicious fury rushed through her with no outlet. It thrummed just beneath her skin.

“Sit with me.”

The same threat they’d begun with. The same arrogance.

When she didn’t immediately acquiesce, Dimitri stood in a sharp motion and caught her wrist. Astrid nearly lost her footing as he yanked her to his side.

His arm snaked around her waist, and he took a seat, forcing her to sit across his lap.

She hated the delectable heat of his body.

The way it permeated his suit and warmed her, even though she wished to freeze.

Her demented jailor pulled her into him.

His firm lips brushed the side of her throat, and she stiffened as the length of his cock pressed against her thigh.

“Don’t look so disappointed, neva,” Dimitri crooned. His breath fanned over her clavicle as he smoothed her hair behind her shoulder. “My sword hasn’t stolen your virginity. You’ll bleed on my cock, too.”