Chapter 20

20

KASSANDRA

I know that I’m dreaming. I know that.

Yet everything seems so realistic.

I can feel the cold floorboards beneath my feet. Hear the tinkering of water as it falls onto the roof above, a repetitive tap-tap-tap that seems to be echoing my rapidly racing heart. Smell the crisp, clean air of Draven’s bedroom.

The fabric of the nightgown is soft against my skin. I can’t quite pinpoint the name of the material—cool like silk but soft as cotton. It conforms to my breasts and hips while billowing loosely around my thighs.

Like before, I still have gloves on—one an enticing shade of silver and the other midnight black—and shackles around both of my wrists.

My breathing puffs out of me in embarrassing spurts as I take stock of the room.

Once again, there’s no Draven. No Mikage.

No mysterious prisoner.

Memories of my last dream threaten to barrel me over. I can’t help but envision the strange, disheveled fae locked away—so similar to Draven in appearance, yet so, so different. They may look like they could be brothers, but there was a sort of...sadness and melancholy in the other fae’s face I don’t think Draven possesses.

Who was that strange fae? Is he still in the dungeons?

The incessant tugging from before propels me to my feet and towards the door. My hands are clammy, even as a fine layer of sweat forms on my forehead. I take a single step forward, my fingers inching towards the doorknob…

When the door is wrenched open, and a familiar male steps into the room.

My breath catches, but this time for an entirely different reason. It always seems to feel like Draven siphons all of the oxygen out of the room with his imperious, domineering presence.

I take a moment to study him while he does the same to me.

Dark, tousled hair, slightly longer than I remember seeing it before.

Black scruff on his jawline that looks mere ticks away from becoming a beard.

Molten silver eyes with the pupils outlined in electric blue.

And of course the wicked scar that bisects his cheek, the skin white and slightly raised.

“Baby bird.” Draven’s smile is borderline predatory as he shuts the door to the room and crosses to me. “You came to me.”

“Came to you?” I sign, continuing to study him.

I can’t help but think he’s a stunning contradiction of beauty and danger, like a rose skewed by a blood-coated knife. My stomach spins as a cold, seeping chill winds its way down my spine.

He takes another step closer and lifts a hand, hovering it slightly away from my face. I can feel the heat of his fingers even though he doesn’t yet touch me.

“I tried to get to you, baby bird.” Anger briefly flashes in his eyes, but for some reason, I know that ire isn’t aimed at me. “You escaped before I could grab you.”

The chill from before turns into a winter storm. Ice bites at my skin and nips my fingertips. A shiver works its way through me.

“At the temple.” I drop my hands, considering my next words, and then resume signing. “You were the one at the temple?”

A smile bends his generous mouth. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to cup my cheek, his hold almost reverent, his gaze soft despite the harshness of his features.

“I told you I’d see you soon.”

A wave of panic and dread capsizes any rational thought in my head.

I grab his wrist, though I don’t know if I’m holding his hand to my face or pushing it away.

“Why would you do that?” I sign with my free hand, my movements clunky.

Still, Draven seems to understand my question. One corner of his lips drags down slightly.

“Where’s Calan? Is he okay?”

Darkness swirls in his silver eyes momentarily. “Your kidnapper got what he deserved,” he answers cryptically.

I drop his wrist quickly as unease prickles along the back of my neck. “Draven?—”

“Do you know what color blood the Winter fae have?” His tone is almost casual and nonchalant. But his eyes… His eyes are not. They brim with secrets and monsters and demons and scary things that go bump in the night. “I wondered before if every fae bleeds differently.” His fingers move to my neck, where my pulse pounds erratically, and trails across my jugular. “I’m rather fond of blood. A lot of fae are terrified of the damn thing, but that doesn’t make any sense. It’s the thing that keeps you and me alive. Without blood, you’d just be a corpse.”

His finger continues to slide back and forth across my skin, and I try to ignore the peppering of goose bumps that erupts from his touch.

He’s insane. Terrifying. Psychotic. An ocean made up of chaotic energy instead of water.

So why do I want to drown in him?

What is wrong with me?

This is just a dream , I tell myself, hating the way my pulse jumps and skitters underneath his ministrations. Just a dream.

Draven, oblivious to my internal thoughts, continues speaking. “But your blood, baby bird, is divine. I don’t even need to cut you open to know that. Anything that belongs to you deserves to be worshiped and revered.”

Abruptly, he leans in until his nose touches my skin. He inhales deeply, and a rumbling sound echoes through his chest.

“You smell fucking delicious, baby bird.” His teeth graze my neck, and my heart rate picks up. “Just who are you, Kassandra? Where did you come from? If I were to cut you open, would I see my name on your perfect heart, tattooed across the length of it? I wish I could tattoo your name onto mine, though it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s already there.”

Gaia, his words are messed up, yet that doesn’t stop arousal from rushing through me.

Just a dream , I remind myself.

Though I know that’s not true. At least, not the whole truth. I remember Mikage’s words from before—that my soul travels to the Night Kingdom every time I fall asleep through a process called shadow walking—but I can’t think about that. Not when it feels as if I need to justify myself and my actions.

Just a dream.

Because if you believe it’s anything else, you’ll push him away.

And you don’t want to push him away.

“Who does your heart beat for, baby bird?” Draven’s fingers fiddle with the strap of my nightgown and then push it down just enough for my breast to spring free. Draven immediately places his hand over my pounding heart, his fingers splayed. “Who does this perfect heart belong to?”

He moves his hand lower until he cups my heavy breast. His thumb sweeps over my hardened nipple.

I gasp at the sensation, and he does it again, his eyes intent on my face, gauging my reaction. A stark, ravenous hunger manifests in his eyes.

“You react so sweetly to me, little bird.” As one hand continues to fondle my breast and tease my nipple, the other hand moves to my neck. He squeezes slightly before releasing. “Look at how your blood rushes. So beautiful.” He runs his finger up and down my jugular in tandem to each flick of my oversensitive nipple. “I want to put my lips on you. Taste you.”

He presses a chaste, tantalizing kiss to my throat before moving lower, lower, lower. He pauses when he reaches my breast, even as his fingers continue their relentless torment.

He kisses the very top of my breast.

The side.

Just underneath it.

My areola.

Then finally, he places a kiss to the very tip of my nipple. His scruff drags across my skin deliciously.

I need more. So much more.

My time with Blaze has opened up something inside of me—something raw and hungry and unencumbered by past fears.

I arch my back slightly, and Draven drags my nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. His other hand trails down my stomach and to the hem of my nightgown. He bunches it up and then drags a finger through my pussy. I didn’t even realize before now that I’m not wearing panties.

I gasp, my eyes instinctively falling shut with bliss.

Draven’s dark chuckle floats through the air as he finally releases my breast.

“Keep your eyes open, mate. I want to see you fall apart. I want to see you bleed for me.” His husky voice elicits a gasp from me.

He pushes a finger inside of me at the same time he reaches for my other nightgown strap. That, too, falls down my arms until both of my breasts are bared to him. I feel inexplicably vulnerable.

Beautiful too.

He adds a second finger to the first and begins to thrust them both in and out of me.

“Look at how beautiful you look. Fuck, baby bird. You’re a dream.” Just before I can crest the edge, Draven pulls his fingers out of me, both digits glistening with my arousal.

He brings one finger to his mouth and sucks deeply, the move highly erotic.

A tiny whimper escapes me at the sight.

“Taste yourself,” he commands, holding his other finger out to me.

I hesitate briefly, indecision warring with lust in my head, before I lean forward and swirl my own tongue over his digit. His eyes heat, and I can see his cock straining against his trousers.

“One of these days, you’re going to sit on my face, and I’m gonna suck up every last drop. You’re going to come again and again on my face, not stopping until I get my fill of you.” He takes another step closer, and his hand creeps beneath my nightgown once more. “But for now…”

Without preamble, Draven flicks my clit at the same time his fingernails pierce my shoulder.

And I explode, my pussy tightening around nothing but air.

Draven pulls away with a smug smile. He holds both his hands out in front of him in stark wonder. One of them is wet with my arousal. The other is stained red with my blood. My shoulder stings slightly from where his fingernails dug in, and trickles of blood cascade down my arm, but for some reason, it feels almost…pleasurable. I never knew pain could be anything but agony.

I swallow and lower my gaze to his crotch. He’s so hard for me, it’s probably painful.

Draven follows the direction of my gaze, and his lips curve upwards even farther. Lust dances in his eyes. “If you want?—”

The Night Prince is interrupted by the door to his room opening and a familiar golden-haired man stepping inside.

“Your Highness, there seems to be—” Mikage cuts off abruptly when he takes in the scene.

Me, half naked, my breasts on full display and my nightgown bunched around my waist.

And Draven, appearing positively pleased with himself, his fingers glistening with a combination of saliva, arousal, and blood.

I attempt to cover myself the best I can as Mikage curses and turns around. The tips of his ears burn bright red.

“You were smart to look away when you did,” Draven tells Mikage almost casually. To me, he adds, “I was about to tear his eyes out of his skull and feed them to him.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.” Mikage’s voice sounds high-pitched and breathless. The red on his ears refuses to dissipate. “There’s a…um… You’re needed in the dungeon.”

Draven’s eyes frost over, the change almost instantaneous. Any softness I thought I saw before is now nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll be right there.” He straightens nearly imperceptibly as he watches Mikage’s retreating back. Only when the other male is out of sight does Draven whirl towards me and cage me against the wall. “I need to go, baby bird.” He softly kisses my forehead, both of my cheeks, and then the tip of my nose. “But I’ll be back soon. Stay here.”

The last sentence holds a hint of a warning.

Thoughts of dungeons remind me of the fae I saw before. Questions rise on my tongue, but Draven doesn’t give me the chance to voice them. Instead, he leans forward to kiss my eye—yes, my actual eye—before stepping back.

“Stay, mate. I’ll be back.” With that pronouncement, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

I watch him go with a sinking heart. One word echoes over and over again in my head.

Mate?