Page 20 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Chapter fifteen

T oren sets me away from him, but not too far, with just a lift of his hand or mine between us, as if he doesn’t want me to forget what it’s like to be next to him.

“I could have taken you inside,” he points out softly. “But I wanted you to have the choice.”

Inside, where we will be alone when I can still feel his hands on my waist, still feel his long, hard body pressed to mine.

Voices lift from the nearby sidewalk and any logic that might have prevailed where Toren is concerned is thrown to the wind. “I can’t be seen here or with you. We need to go inside,” I say. “Now.”

Toren’s response is to catch me to him and in a blink we’re inside the cottage.

It’s not my first time in one of the cottages, having toured them with my mother years before.

And just as I remembered, they’re all quite elegant with high-end furnishings, marble floors, intricately designed sconces, and expensive art.

At present, we’re in the foyer, an elaborate chandelier above us, but I’m aware of little else besides Toren.

He is a pillar of masculinity before me, every inch of him hard muscle, the scent of him addictive, almost amber like, and I wonder if it’s a drug, a part of his vampire seduction.

“This isn’t why I came here,” I say, but I sound breathless and feel it, too, and I do nothing to shove him away.

“No?” he challenges.

“No,” I say firmly, even though a part of me knows that’s not wholly true. Despite telling myself otherwise, there’s a deep craving inside me for Toren that refuses to be ignored .

“The minute you tell me to step back, I step back.”

“I find it hard to believe anything with you is that easy, King Toren.”

“I never said it would be easy, not for me, and I suspect not for you, either.”

He’s right and I don’t tell him to step back. I want him, I do, but I’m not sure how much caution I have left in me with him as it is, and what little remains will surely disappear with my clothing. “There are stories about you.” My voice is laced with accusation.

“So you’ve told me. Tall tales lead to death and despair. Believe what you know, not what you hear.”

His fingers tangle into my hair, tilting my gaze to his, and the passion I find in his stare steals my breath. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you?”

“I know nothing of what you want with me or why.”

“I want you to know everything.”

“Doubtful.”

His answer is to lean in, close, oh so close, his breath warm with the promise of passion, tempting me into the sweet oblivion I have no doubt he can deliver.

My pulse is erratic, all over the place, but somehow, I press my hand to his chest, stunned to find his heart thundering beneath my palm.

Is it possible that the king of vampires is as wildly in this moment as I am?

Impossible , I think. He’s an ancient king. I barely know how to control my own powers, let alone protect myself from a king such as him. “Tell me this isn’t about power,” I demand.

He eases back slightly, a hint of a curve to his lips. “Do you think I need your help to take what I want?”

It’s his way of telling me that he knows I can sense his power, that he knows I have the power to do so, and I don’t pretend otherwise. “No,” is my only answer, and already he leans in again.

“Wait,” I insist a second before his lips are on mine, fearing temptation will lead me down a path of danger and uncertainty when a princess should follow the straight and narrow .

“You’re killing me, princess,” he murmurs roughly, grit in the bite of his words, his hands sliding from my face, away from me.

He’s close but no longer touching me, my hand still resting over his heart, and I don’t seem to want to pull it away. How can I when my body already aches for his in every possible way? When I’m cold everywhere I was hot with desire only moments before.

I’m killing him, he’s declared and with such a raw quality to that confession that I believe him.

And yet he stopped. He didn’t kiss me.

The honor and control in this action defies the stories of debauchery I’ve heard of the vampires, but I no longer know what to believe of him or his kind.

“What is it that you need from me, princess?” he presses, his tone managing to be both sandpaper and silk, demand and seduction.

“I need to know how you’ve tasted my father’s blood.” I expect my question to be the lightning igniting the thunder in his chest all over again, his heart beats slow and steady.

“In battle,” he explains with no hesitation, “but only out of necessity and of his free will.”

I’m stunned by this explanation though I’m certain no one who knew of such a thing would dare speak it out loud. “What battle? What happened?”

“It’s a long story, princess. As you can imagine I don’t wish to discuss it in this very moment.”

“You mean not ever,” I accuse.

“No. I simply have you, not your father, on my mind right now.” His hands find my face, his touch what I can only call brutally tender, and just that easily I’ve already forgotten my father. “I’ll tell you more later,” he murmurs. “I promise . After I kiss you. A long time after if I have my way.”

After we’re naked and moaning in each other’s arms , I think, and heat pools low in my belly.

His breath mingles with mine now, warm with promise.

He hesitates only a beat, but long enough for me to pant with need, before his mouth closes down on mine, the lick of his tongue, pure seduction.

I’m melting for the vampire king when I should be pushing him away and I’m fairly certain many a gale would call me shameful.

But they would not deny themselves if he stood before them, if they felt the pure power and dominance I feel as the king of vampires slides his fingers under my hair and his hand cups my neck.

“Your father would not approve,” he says softly.

“My father’s approval is not a familiar prize,” I admit.

He eases back and studies me with the intensity of fire on ice. “You aren’t even a little afraid of this or me, are you?”

In this moment, one might think I was a world of sexual knowledge, which I am not.

My sexual coming of age was in the human world, and it felt nothing like anything I’ve felt with Toren.

Perhaps because they were nothing like Toren.

There is something about the king of vampires I cannot seem to resist.

“Maybe it’s you who should be afraid,” I taunt. “I did kill the frostburn with my blood. And you are a vampire who I found hunting for blood tonight.”

He laughs low and deep, heavy in his chest, the sound vibrating through me and settling low in my clenched belly.

His mouth dips to my mouth, but when I think he might kiss me again, his lips are on my neck, his teeth scraping the delicate skin there.

My body tenses and my fingernails dig into his upper arms.

“I was hunting you, princess,” he murmurs, near my ear, and this time his teeth tease the flesh of my lobe and I swear there is a pinch and lick that follows. As if he has tasted my blood . “Afraid now?” he challenges, his voice is rough with a seductive taunt.

Intrigued , I think, but all I give him is a whispered, “Not even a little,” before I pull back and tilt my chin up to meet his stare, “and if that’s what you want from me, you’re going to be disappointed.”

His mouth crashes over mine again, and when his tongue presses past my teeth, in a long, wicked caress, I taste his need, his hunger, and it echoes my own.

Incredibly, considering he is both alpha and vampire, his kiss is equal parts demand and tenderness, his hand on my back, fingers splayed wide and molding me closer.

In his arms, in that moment, and oh so easily, the warrior in me slips away.

I am not her now. I am a princess who is consumed by him, a man who should be my enemy, but is nothing that I expected, and everything I crave.

I am lost in the ache that has become my need for this vampire, the king of another world, the stranger, I cannot resist.

Remotely, I’m aware of my back hitting the door, of the tug of his teeth on my lip, and then the pinch of his bite.

I gasp with the iron taste of blood in my mouth.

His tongue licks across the wound, and he eases back just enough for me to witness the pure lust etching his handsome face, the blood on his tongue, and on his lips.

My blood.

“You can’t kill me that easily, princess,” he declares, and then he’s kissing me again, and I can taste me on his tongue, and I cannot even begin to understand why it’s erotic, why it excites me.

I’m wild with need, touching him, my hands under his jacket, roaming the heavily muscled planes of his torso.

And when he tears his mouth from mine, he is all about removing barriers, and all I can think is, yes please. He drags my jacket down my shoulders, and I take over, tossing it aside. By the time it hits the ground, his is there, too. “Your father would lose his mind if he knew you were here.”

“My father doesn’t need to know,” I say, and when he pulls me close, my hands flatten on the hard wall of his incredible chest, the snug tee he’s wearing leaving little to the imagination.

And I like what I find, what I see, what he looks like and how he feels.

“But let’s just call this our contribution to peace talks,” I add.

His fingers catch my chin, his eyes once again meeting mine. “Nothing about this is about peace or war. It’s about us, Satima . Just us.”

It’s the first time he’s used my name all night, and I realize now that the title of “princess” creates a barrier between us he’s just removed. And I want it gone, just as I want what he has said to be truth, but we both know it’s a facade of escape. I’m just not sure we care right now .

“Just us,” I whisper, and as he strokes my hair from my face, the tenderness in the touch shivers through me and I pretty much melt for him standing in the foyer of a cottage neither of us knows as familiar.

He scoops me up and starts walking and for just a moment, I’m not the shadow of recent defending innocent lives or a princess defending her kingdom.

I’m a female, in lust with the most incredible male I’ve ever met.

And that’s who I want to be. For once in my life, that is who I need to be and maybe that makes me vulnerable to Toren, but I already know he senses my magic.

We both have the ability to sense things about each other.

Toren knows me in ways others do not, just as I know him.

He’s fully aware that I can be dangerous, too.

Toren halts in the living area, in front a massive stone fireplace that goes from dark and cold, to flame-licked in a magical moment.

He sets me on my feet and places my back to the fire, obviously trying to warm me.

A moment without his kiss drugging me, and a sense of spinning out, reaching for control.

My hands find his chest and I give him a push, but I don’t even come close to taking him off guard.

He catches my hips, and hits the couch, dragging me down with him.

I end up straddling him, the hard bulge of his erection between my thighs.

As if proving that me being on top does not give me control, he wraps my hair around his hand, a sweet tension in the way he drags me forward.

Our mouths are close, and we breathe together, arousal curling in my belly, but we say nothing.

Seconds tick by and then our mouths collide, and he kisses the hell out of me, deep and seductive, and I think I might actually purr with the pleasure of him and all he does to me.

His hand presses under my tee and drags my bra down, his fingers teasing my nipple, a moan of pleasuring sliding from my lips to his.

I’m no longer in my own head, riding on purely primal instinct.

My body wants. I take. I grind my hips against his erection, leaning forward, pressing into his.

He catches my tee and drags it over my head, but I’m the one who unhooks my bra, while he all but tears it off my body.

Toren’s gaze is hot desire as it rakes over my naked breasts, his hand settling between my shoulder blades, molding me close.

He eases me backward, so far backward I might fall, only he has me, he holds me, and his mouth is on my nipple, suckling, licking.

My fingers dive into his thick, dark hair and he shifts us, lying me on the couch, my back sinking into the cushion I couldn’t describe if I was paid in blood and safe passage.

But I could describe every fleck of amber heat in his eyes even if asked casually.

And as he spreads my legs and settles between them, the sweet, heavy weight of him pressed to me, I do believe that the day I die, no matter how many hundreds of years from now, I will remember this night.

The night the princess of Ravengale willingly surrendered to the king of vampires.