Page 38 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

He couldn’t hear her screaming or crying. But he couldn’t hear Luciento either. He had seen the fae shit drag her inside as he was finishing up one of the lingering guards.

“Open the door, you coward !” He slammed his shoulder into the door again. It shook on its hinges. He was far stronger than a normal human. Mael would have been able to bash it down in two hits. It would take him eight. Which might be six too many to save her.

Why did he care?

I came here to add her to the pile. But only after I had my fun with her. Not before. Certainly not after Luciento cut her to pieces!

The idea of the rat hurting her sent him into a rage. He hissed, a feral growl deep in his chest forming. He reared back, certain that he would now be able to tear the door free.

The lock clicked.

The door swung open.

His little murderer stood there.

A blood-covered knife in her right hand.

Her peasant’s dress was soaked at the bottom with crimson where it had dragged through a quickly forming pool. He found the source quickly.

Luciento. The fae was slumped against the wall, head tilted to the side, blood still pouring from a puncture wound underneath his jaw. It soaked his shirt. A look of sadness and perhaps…even betrayal in his eyes.

He tried to save her.

Raziel could picture it. “ Come with me—I can save you from him. ”

The opened hatch in the floor confirmed the escape route. She had the opportunity to flee with him. Even still, she could have run on her own. She knew he planned to kill her, intentionally or otherwise. He had said as much.

But here she stood.

Fae blood on her hands.

And he had never felt such need before in all his years.

Numb.

Nadi didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do. She felt numb. Empty. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Luciento was dead. She had killed him. She had not only killed her own kind…but her own uncle.

In the name of the greater good. To complete her mission to kill the Nostroms.

But there was no guarantee she’d ever succeed, was there?

She might die in this moment.

Raziel was standing in front of her. A vampire. Her enemy.

She deserved it if she died. She deserved the void. Luciento’s soul would rejoin the Wild. He would be reborn. She would be dust—she would be like the nothingness she felt clawing at her.

“Look at me.”

The words were an order. She felt Raziel’s power in the room like a blanket—like a fog.

He was hypnotizing what he thought was a human Monica.

That confirmed Luciento hadn’t been lying.

She snapped her eyes up to his, obeying him.

She had to keep up the ruse at all costs.

And she was in no mood to try to fight him.

I deserve what happens to me next.

“Drop the knife.”

She let it slip from her fingers. It clattered to the ground beside her.

His red eyes were almost black, the pupils were so dilated. His fangs were long, extended from hunger and lust. His chest was rising and falling in rapid, deep breaths. He took a step toward her, and she took one back into the room of glittering gold, silver, and jewels.

Another step forward from him, and she took another one back.

When he spoke, his voice was deep, almost ragged. “Take off the cap. Lower your hair.”

She did as she was told, keeping her eyes on his the whole time. Her hands trembled. There was…something in the simplicity of doing what he said. Something easy about it. She didn’t have to make excuses for her actions if he was ordering her to do it.

It wasn’t her fault then, was it?

Suddenly, his hand shot out. He snatched her by the throat, clenching her tight enough that she gasped in pain.

He dragged her toward him, his other arm around behind her waist, cinching her tight to his body.

She felt his desire there, his hard length pressing against her stomach, trapped in his trousers.

He kissed her, rough and hard, devouring her lips as his hand released her throat to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back harshly to angle it better for him. She gasped at the pain in her scalp, and his tongue was instantly tangling with hers, exploring her mouth. Claiming it as his.

She moaned against him. It was instinctual. She couldn’t help it. He was making it so easy just to…let it happen. Let her body answer for her—let herself simply exist in his arms. The strength in his grasp. The certainty in it. The sheer primal need.

Without warning, he threw her toward one of the wooden tables.

Coins clattered to the ground as she staggered backward into it, rocking it into the wall with a wham.

She gripped the edge of it to keep from winding up on her back against the surface, though she knew that was where she would be before long.

Raziel stalked toward her, his face a mask of lust and hunger. “You will give me your honest answers.”

She nodded. She didn’t feel his hypnotism there—he was simply demanding it from her. And she found she had no will or desire to lie to him.

“Did he ask you to escape with him?”

“Yes.” She kept her eyes locked on his red ones. She could lie if she needed to—but he didn’t know that.

“You chose instead to kill him and stay. Why?”

“I want you to trust me.” That was true.

“I want you to spare my life, even if your mother says no…” That was also true.

But she knew she needed to give him something more.

A confession. Something that he could believe enough to spare her.

“And I—I want you.” Lords of the deep, that was also not a lie. “I need this . Even…if it kills me.”

The growl that left him went straight to her core. Shuddering at the sound and what it did to her, she shut her eyes. She couldn’t help it. The room smelled coppery and metallic, like blood. Blood she had spilled. Fae blood.

The dim light of the room was blotted out as Raziel stepped into her, the smell of his cologne masking the smell of the blood.

His lips were on hers again, taking away her ability to think or breathe as he roamed his hands over her body, squeezing and groping as he quickly tore away her clothing, shredding off the dress and ripping anything that didn’t come off fast enough.

Reaching down, he picked her up by the ass and lifted her up to place her on her back on the table. She was surrounded by the trappings of wealth, coins and riches of every kind. But he didn’t seem to care at all as he yanked her forward to wrap her legs around his waist.

He leaned over her, capturing her lips again in a furious kiss, as his other hand rustled with his belt and his fly.

She felt his length pressing against her.

Shutting her eyes, she kissed him back, as hard as he gave to her, lacing her fingers into his silky hair—wanting to taste him. Wanting to feel him.

Wanting him to take it all away.

Wanting to make it easy.

He broke off the kiss, looking down at her, studying her for a moment, those red eyes flicking between hers.

Was he asking her for permission ? That wasn’t the Raziel she knew. And not the one she wanted in this moment. Right now, she wanted the one that would make it all simple, clear-cut, and black and white.

Now wasn’t the time for thinking.

Now was the time to have all those things taken from her. Lifting her head, she kissed him. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she forced the matter. She wanted him to take her. Wanted him to consume her. Wanted him to make her not have to think about what she’d just done.

She pricked her tongue on his fang. Hard enough to make sure it bled.

The noise that left him was heaven. Her moan joined his as he sucked on her tongue, trying to coax another drop of blood from her.

When it didn’t come, he pulled his head back and straightened up, standing between her legs, then let out a snarl that was part man, part animal. “You little— ” He let out a shuddering breath. “Do you know how many people died this week because of you?”

That shouldn’t turn her on.

It really shouldn’t.

Grasping himself, he pressed himself to her entrance.

She had no idea what she was in for—and he hadn’t prepared her at all.

And it seemed he was aware of that. “Usually, I like to work my partners in a little. But I fear you have gone and worn my patience thin , my dear sweet killer.” He shifted his grip to hold her hips in both hands.

“Will you just shut up already?” She had heard enough of his talking. She needed action. Now.

He pulled her to him as he drove himself forward.

Her mind went white.

He was merciless. Relentless. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t process anything except the feeling of him inside of her—moving harder and faster than any human was capable of.

She had never felt anything like it before in her life.

It was amazing .

It wasn’t pain that had driven her mind white when he had rammed into her, filling her to the hilt and stretching her. It had been ecstasy. It had been a sudden and instant release, a push over that cliff into pure bliss.

Even now, she lay beneath him, gasping and mewling, and when she had the air to breathe, she found herself whimpering his name .

Twisted up with words like more , and harder , she was begging him, pleading with him to keep her where he had put her—somewhere safe from what she had done.

Somewhere in this bliss, this pleasure, this cloud of ecstasy away from death and murder.

And he seemed more than happy to oblige.

“Look at you…” He slowed down, if only seemingly to taunt her.

He straightened up, and placed his hand around her throat, cinching his grip to cut off her air just enough to keep her from responding.

“Gods, you feel incredible . And that taste . You are going to be an addiction if I’m not careful.

” Pulling nearly all the way out, he rammed himself forward, jerking her hard on the table, sending coins rattling to the ground.

Her eyes rolled back. He was too much for her—just barely more than she was made to handle. And all she wanted was more.

“My little bloody bride, my killer, my little murderer—you like it rough, hm?” He grinned, flashing his fangs.

“Do you like it when it’s violent?” He rammed into her again, and she moaned as her body spasmed around him, so close to another wave of release.

His hand tightened around her throat again and it only made her dizzier. “Tell me the truth.”

“Y—yes,” she half breathed, half moaned. “I like it…” And it wasn’t a lie.

“Good.” A third impact, and he nearly roared, snarling through his clenched teeth.

She wailed—she was so close. She was going to faint if he kept his grip on her throat for much longer. “Raziel?—”

“Do you want to feel my bite? Do you want me to drink you? Do you want me to taste you and truly make you mine?” He leaned over her, his grasp on her throat loosening. His voice softened. “You may die. I may not be able to stop myself.”

She met those red eyes of his. And by the moons, if she died like this…she didn’t know if she cared. She deserved for her soul to be eaten by the void, either way. Because there was no excuse for the one word that was a whisper as he turned her chin to the side to bare her throat to him.

“Yes…”