Page 9

Chapter eight

A strid leaned away from Dimitri. His arm rested on her hip and the infuriating male idly traced circles where his fingertips dropped to her thigh. The raw ache between her thighs anchored her hatred and she clung to it, covering her shame.

It would’ve been less complicated if he’d just used her, but he’d forced orgasms on her just as he forced her to take the hilt of his sword.

The tops of snowy pines rushed past the large coach window. She would bide her time. His soul might not obey her, but it didn’t feel stitched to his body. He might be immune to her gifts but a dagger between the ribs would kill him all the same.

A towering gatehouse crept above the tree line.

Wind-kissed turrets and gables rose beyond the stone walls and stretched into the darkening sky.

The southern palace was built on a cliff, and the forest had been cleared for miles.

Her hopes of escape soared as they rode through the grand entry.

There were no gates. A massive archway welcomed them into the palace grounds.

A residence more than a fortress built for defense.

The carriage slowed to a stop at the center of the courtyard and Dimitri’s lips warmed her shoulder. “This will be our home for a time,” he rasped.

Astrid recoiled. “This is not my home, nor ours. ”

It would be his grave before she escaped.

His hand tightened over her hip and Astrid lifted her chin as he leaned into her. “You’re mine, neva,” he said, tracing the bridge of his nose along the curve of her tapered ear. “And I keep my belongings very close.”

Astrid shoved against him and stood. She’d expected her captor to drag her back down. Instead, she eyed him warily as Dimitri rose to his full height. He fastened his sword belt and smirked at her before stepping out of the carriage. Astrid stood her ground as he turned to offer his hand.

He couldn’t possibly try to be a gentleman while her virgin blood stained the sword at his waist.

“Come here, or I’ll drag you out.”

Astrid weighed her options. Her gaze fell to his upturned hand, and she gripped the vertical bars on either side of the carriage door, exiting without his assistance. Her breath fogged and Astrid cursed, willing herself not to shiver.

A muscle ticked in Dimitri’s sharp jaw, and he snatched her hand, yanking her closer. Astrid’s heels stabbed into the loose gravel as she reclaimed her balance.

“You’ll learn to appreciate my kindness,” he said in a low rumble. He caressed her side as gently as a lover before tracing the curve of her breast. “Though I’ll appreciate every time I have to punish you.”

“The only thing you could grant me, that I would appreciate ,” Astrid purred, smoothing her fingers down the center of his chest, “is your death.”

He smiled down at her as his index slipped beneath her silk. The back of his finger circled her nipple, and he whispered, “I look forward to your attempts.”

Astrid met his stare, reminding herself her nipples were hard because she was freezing, not because of this winged asshole’s touch.

Dimitri stepped back and led her to the stone stairway at the edge of a massive, raised platform within the grounds. It rose two stories and acted as a courtyard connecting the elegant palace to its adjacent guard house.

Astrid made note of the stable near the gate house and committed the layout to memory. The caravan they traveled with was much smaller than she’d expected. King Ambrose would have had to leave most of his army to defend against her cousins.

If they killed everyone within the walls, she figured word wouldn’t travel to her family’s neighboring kingdoms for days.

King Ambrose had time to fortify her palace, and he likely had another garrison in wait.

Ledivion was a nation that worshiped war and battle.

What they lacked in strategic planning, they made up for with steadfast determination.

Dimitri led Astrid through the sprawling estate, and she wondered if he was purposefully leading her in circles. They’d strolled through halls and climbed stairways she was certain they’d passed previously.

The gray stone walls opened into a hall with vaulted ceilings. His heavy, booted steps muffled the sound of hers and echoed through the candlelit passage.

The door at the end of the hall opened into a grand space.

The walls and furnishings were satin-black trimmed with bronze accents.

It was both a large study and bedroom rolled into one.

Arched floor to ceiling windows offered a view of a beautiful private garden.

Frost iced the edges of the panes and, despite the flames roaring in the fireplace, the entire palace was too cold for her liking.

Dimitri dropped her hand to shut the door.

Astrid took the opportunity to create distance between them.

The massive bed dominating one side of the room made her stomach knot.

She moved past the armoire near the door and took a few steps toward his desk.

His gaze slid over her, but he said nothing.

He crossed the room to a smaller door on the side of his bed opposite her.

“Come. You’ll need to bathe before you can sleep,” he said simply.

Sleep? If her jailor thought she would willingly crawl into his bed, he was more demented—

“Now, neva,” he called again. Firmer.

Astrid’s temper coiled and flared. “My name is Princess Astrid, and you will address me as—”

He stalked toward her, closing the distance between them in moments. His hand crushed her throat and Astrid’s head snapped back as he dragged her closer.

“You will answer to anything I call you because you are mine, neva, ” he rasped, so close his breath fanned over her lips.

Rage embodied her temper, and she squeezed two words past his suffocating grip. “Fuck. You.”

Dimitri smiled and leaned into her, whispering, “I intend to, after you’re clean and fed.”

Astrid forced out a laugh and his fingers loosened. “Why not now? Do you have a problem getting it up?”

He cut off her air and affectionately brought the side of his face to hers.

“When I mark you as mine, I’m going to take my time branding my name on your soul,” he promised.

His lips warmed her temple. A gentle touch in complete opposition to the crushing grip on her throat.

“You’ll cry, and moan, and come for me, neva. For hours.”

“I’m going to make you beg for your life before I kill you,” Astrid hissed.

“And I’m going to make you beg me to ride you harder,” Dimitri murmured, brushing her dark hair from her neck. His lips warmed the space behind her ear, and he smiled. “But we can start here.”

Dimitri cruelly fisted her hair at the base of her skull and hoisted her up, so she stood on her toes. Pain radiated over her scalp and Astrid threw her elbow into his ribs. It was like hitting a stone wall and Dimitri’s grip never faltered.

A new pain, sharp and cold burned her. Dimitri held his fist behind her ear and white-hot pain blinded her. It intensified and Astrid’s breaths became labored. She clenched her jaw, refusing to scream. She wouldn’t show weakness.

It persisted another moment then eased. Dimitri meticulously rolled his fist off her throat. A thin film of perspiration covered her, and Dimitri tilted his head to inspect the space behind her ear.

Astrid tugged her hair from his grasp and stepped away from him. His molten gold eyes gleamed with perverse humor.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded. Her hand lifted to her neck and Astrid’s fingertips met chilled, raised flesh. It burned and she immediately covered the wound with her palm. Her gaze fell to the signet ring on his index. “Did you brand me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Astrid’s magic answered her in a rush, and she began repairing the injury. Dimitri tore her hand from her wound and stepped into her, maneuvering her until her back met the wall.

“Let it scar, or we’ll do it again,” Dimitri purred.

Astrid’s temper rattled. She squared her shoulders and stood tall. “I won’t allow you to maim me,” she said, lifting her other hand.

He trapped both of her wrists and leaned down. “You’ll wear my mark because I own you,” he said against her lips. “Just like you’ll scream my name while I fuck your pretty cunt.”

Astrid remained still. She knew war—knew he would hurt her.

Use her. If she acknowledged the fear clawing at the edges of her mind, her situation would dramatically worsen.

Healing his brand now or after her cousins rescued her made no difference.

The outcome of the first few battles rarely dictated the war’s victor.

“Is hurting females the only way you can get your dick hard?” Astrid asked.

“Should I be kind to you?” Dimitri dragged his thumb down the center of her lip. Astrid didn’t answer and he leaned into her. His lips met hers and Astrid wanted to bite him until her teeth drew blood but rejected the impulse. He would retaliate and injure her.

When she delivered her blow, it would be fatal.

He pulled back and immediately shoved her into the wall, face first. Pain exploded over her temple as she collided with the blackened stone. The edge of his wing punched the center of her back, trapping her. Before she could react, Dimitri yanked her hands behind her, holding her wrists.

“Sorin and my cousins will come for me, and when they do, I’m going to tie your soul to your body and have you drawn and quartered every day during my first meal,” Astrid hissed, kicking backward.

She broke one hand free and used it to grab his wrist. On contact, she willed his soul to move, to obey her, but he chuckled at her efforts.

“For someone who spews such hatred…” His condescending tone grated her temper but the sound of him unbuckling his belt cooled her rancor. “…you’re always holding on to me,” he finished before kicking her legs further apart.

“I’m an E’lan Vital. Release me or I’ll rip your soul from your body,” she lied.

His dark laughter answered her as his leather belt circled her wrists. He turned her to face him and caged her throat in his grasp, forcing her to look up at him.

“You saw the bodies. Do you know what I am?” Dimitri asked, leaning his unyielding body into hers.

She’d diligently researched his kingdom while she’d trained at the temples with the E’lan Vital. She knew every war, every battle, and siege. There were no formal reports in Ledivion but the people of the regions and kingdoms they’d conquered had claimed a Death Spirit fought among them.

A soul drinker.

The immortal creature was a fable of Ledivion’s design, said to consume souls and leave a trail of withered, black-veined husks in their wake.

A dozen years ago, there had been a battle beyond Clorea’s borders, and it was one of the few times Ledivion lost. The victors claimed to have killed the Death Spirit and Ledivion answered in force, annihilating them.

“Soul drinkers don’t exist,” Astrid insisted, even as the memory of her parents in the War Room saturated her mind.

It must have been a poison, combined with their own E’lan Vital, meant to cause hysteria. It had to be.

“I do,” Dimitri promised. He parted his lips and drew against her soul.

A silken caress licked across her senses as euphoria and pleasure clouded her mind. It was like overindulging in aphrodisiacs and liquor. A blinding combination that left her desperate to grind against the closest body for relief.

Astrid clenched her jaw to keep the moan from her lips.

Her focus wavered and the bright aura of her soul gleamed past her skin.

Dimitri’s gentle current lifted the glimmering sparks of her soul.

They fed the night-spun vortex at his core, emitting tiny blue embers each time a glimmer of her essence met his shadows.

His pull slowed and he groaned against her. Astrid’s mind cleared and he bent low as though he would kiss her.

“By the blood, your taste.” His lips brushed her as he spoke. “You’ll be mine for an eternity.”

Astrid turned away from him, as far as Dimitri’s grip would allow. He chuckled and ran the tip of his nose through her hairline above her ear.

“When I drink slowly, you like it,” he purred, basking in the intimacy she didn’t invite.

“There is nothing pleasing about you,” Astrid snapped.

His amusement burned her pride. His fingertips traced up her inner thigh and he rasped, “I can scent your arousal. Should I prove you’re wet for me, Princess?”

Astrid bit her tongue as her heart raced.

He lightly brushed the lace covering her pussy and Astrid tensed.

“Obey me and you’ll know my kindness, but I find myself hoping you’ll fight. I thoroughly enjoy punishing you,” he teased before pulling away and hauling her to his ensuite.