"I swore my fealty and I'll see my order through. Answer or you'll face the consequences," he said. "I'll begin with the most basic. What are you?"
"Pussy Cat Doll?" she asked, immediately doing a slow headshake at his look. "Judge, jury and executioner." He scowled. Her eyes lit up. "Transient! What? Really. No? Babe in Toyland?"
"Damn it, Myst, just answer the questions. Then you can come back up to my room." He lowered his voice and curled his finger under her chin. "We can sleep together again as we did today - "
"But you don't understand that torture would be easier for me than to go back to the Lore as an informant." She'd no longer be an A-lister, an "avoid at all costs" enemy. She'd lose her status as a creature with which one did not f**k.
"My brother has tried to get information from the others - "
"But they didn't talk either, huh?" Did she sound smug?
He seemed to shake himself, hardening his resolve. "You're leaving me little choice."
Well. She was about to experience first-hand the Overlord's ruthlessness she'd admired, because apparently he'd decided she was an enemy just when she'd thought they were getting kinda cozy.
Way to hurt my feelings, Wroth. She sniffled. Now I'll really have to kill you.
With his thoughts constantly on her throughout the night, he'd stalled for hours, as much as he could, waiting till nearly dawn, ensuring it would at least be brief.
"You're really going to do this?" she asked as she turned from him, moving into the back corner.
Her shoulders were shaking, and he suspected she was laughing. When he crossed to her, taking her arm and turning her, he was shocked to find genuine tears streaming down her heartbreakingly beautiful face. "Wroth, I thought we had an arrangement." She cast him a brows-drawn look of betrayal.
She wasn't feigning this. In her wild, mixed-up mind, she had thought they were...friends?
The cell wobbled and he braced himself, frowning that she seemed not to notice. Just aftershocks from last night.
He didn't want her to hurt. But her eyes blazed with it, raw and true and bare. He was actually seeing her - Myst with her false swagger and play peeled back. This was a facet of her, but it was finally Myst, and suddenly he found it unbearable as each tear fell. He flinched when one dropped to her cheek, flinched as if he'd been hit. Another shake all around him.
She turned from him and appeared to wipe her face. When she turned back, she was blatantly sexual, as though she'd donned a mask once more.
"Myst, I don't want to hurt you, but you must answer my questions. This isn't a game."
She gave him a look of utter disbelief. "That's exactly what this is. You want to know about the Lore? Learn this lesson well - we are all pawns."
The castle shook around him, and while he glanced around wildly, she remained undaunted. No, it was not the outside shaking.
The sound booming in his ears like an earthquake was coming from...within him. "What are you?" he demanded again.
Her face never lost its expression of vague distaste even when her hand pressed gently against his chest - to feel his heart stutter then thunder to life. Because he'd finally seen her and recognized her for what she was...
"Apparently, I'm your Bride."
"I was wondering if I could get you to turn for me," Myst purred to him, as he struggled to hide his shock.
She'd found him to be a cool, disciplined man, but she'd heard a new heartbeat was deafening for these unblooded vampires, the sudden rush of sexual desire overwhelming, their breaths unpracticed and rough at first. With soft touches, she eased him against the wall. His eyes were half-lidded as she rubbed up and down his chest. "How does the air in your lungs feel?"
He inhaled deeply. "Cold. Pressure, but it feels good." He looked at her with such gratitude for blooding him.
They always did.
"How does your blood feel, heating and moving?"
"Stronger. It's...searing."
She palmed his erection through his pants, and his entire body jerked as he threw back his head to yell out. She was almost as shocked. She'd known Wroth was very well endowed, but hard, he was overly so.
Like Demon or Lykae endowed.
He held her hand in place over his shaft, making her fingers curve around it as he slowly thrust against her palm. Her body softened when she imagined the onslaught of need clawing at him. In a sensual whisper, she asked, "And how does this feel when it hardens and distends?"
"Good," he grated with a shudder. "So damn good."
"It's been three centuries? Well, you are due I suppose." She unzipped his pants just enough to wiggle her thumb inside and rub the broad tip of his penis, making it grow slick. His eyes rolled back in his head. "I can only imagine how heavy and tight this feels, throbbing with pressure, close to exploding."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Because I can.
Soon he would have no more thought than an animal. His eyes were growing black. She stroked his length through his pants, relieved she would never have to take his uncomfortable size within her body. Five, four, three, two...
Wroth attacked, groaning, and he was surprisingly strong as he pinned her arms over her head. He kissed her, deeply, possessively, seeming to brand her with his kiss. He left her panting when he bent down to lick her ni**les, sucking at them through her blouse. His other hand cupped her sex.
With a growl, he yanked himself from her, and took her elbow. "Come with me."
Damn it, dawn neared. Where were they? She had to keep him here. "No, Wroth," she said.
"Won't claim my Bride in a dungeon."