Reign of Nightmares (Blood Throne Book 1)

by Quinn Arthurs

  “So wet,” he whispered, biting my hip hard. His tongue glided across me, and I pushed back, making him groan as he sucked and licked my pussy. I gripped the bedspread in my hands, burying my face in the soft fabric as he thrust his tongue into my channel, making me cry out.

  He pulled back, slapping my ass hard. “Head up,” he demanded. “I want to hear every sound you make. I want it to echo in the room while I fuck you.” I twisted my head to the side, a groan spilling from my lips as he canted my hips farther up before burying his head between my thighs again. I held nothing back, moaning my pleasure as he licked and nipped across the sensitive skin, sucking hard on my clit as I squirmed against his confining hands. My pebbled nipples rubbed against the fabric of my comforter, adding yet another sensation to the pleasure he was dragging from me. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise as he bit my inner thigh. “You’ll come like this.” The words were a command, not a question or a request. “I’m going to make you come all over my tongue, then I’m going to fuck you hard and deep until all you can feel is me inside you as you come around my cock. Then, I’m going to flip you over and fuck you again while you bury those fangs of yours in my throat and feed from me.”

  “Yes,” I groaned, as he plunged his tongue inside me, his fingers moving to circle my clit. He squeezed the small nub between his fingers as his tongue swept my inner walls, and I shattered on a scream, flooding his mouth. He groaned, lapping up every drop before pushing back to his feet.

  “Sweet. So fucking salty and sweet,” he growled, raking his nails down my back. I felt the head of his cock at my entrance before he slammed into me, my body clenching around his length. He gripped the back of my neck, holding me exactly how he wanted me while he pounded into me, making me mewl with pleasure. Each press of his hips into mine shoved me against the bed, adding pressure on my clit and building me toward another peak. He slipped a hand below me, squeezing and pinching my nipple, and my orgasm slammed into me, my pussy locking around his cock as I milked him. “Fuck yes,” he hissed. “Just like that.” He pulled out of me, making me gasp as he flipped me over, tossing me onto the bed. His eyes raked over my curves, taking in the wetness coating my thighs and my diamond hard nipples before he crawled over me, slamming his mouth onto mine. I could taste myself on his lips as his tongue demanded entrance to my mouth.

  He pressed into me in a single, hard stroke, and his hands came up to cup my breasts before one moved up to collar my throat, holding me against the mattress as he fucked me hard. Pulling back, he watched his hard length slide into me, groaning at the sight. “So much better than I imagined.” The words hadn’t been meant for my ears, barely even a whisper of sound, but I still heard them, and I moaned my approval. He smirked, obviously realizing I’d heard him before reaching his other hand up to my mouth. “Open,” he demanded, his eyes never leaving my lips. I opened my mouth wide, and he stroked his fingers over my fangs. My pussy clenched at the sensation, and he chuckled, not letting up on the motion as I writhed. “I always wondered if these would be sensitive,” he murmured, leaning down and forcing himself deeper inside me as his tongue stroked my other fang, making me whimper. “It seems I was right.”

  I bucked my hips against his, grinding myself against him with every one of his thrusts, and he tightened his hold on my throat with a growl. “Will you come like this?” he growled against my lips. “If all I did was stroke and suck your fangs, would you come around my cock and milk me dry?” I could only groan in response to his question. He released my throat, reaching down to haul my thigh up against my chest, opening me to take him deeper, and I cried out, my body clenching around his, making him hiss as he pulled his mouth from mine.

  “Sebastian!” I gasped his name as pleasure flooded me, and he groaned, moving his hands to the back of my neck as he pulled me up against him.

  “Bite,” he demanded, pressing my mouth to his throat even as his hips surged into me. “I want you feeding from me when I come inside you, when I mark you.” I licked his throat, ensuring he would feel no pain when I bit. Settling my fangs against his skin, I pierced his neck, feeling his flesh separate as I sucked. “Fuck!” His hand fisted tightly in my hair, pressing my mouth against him as his hips stuttered, slamming into me hard and deep. He groaned, pulsing inside me as he flooded me with his hot cum. I swallowed hard, licking and sucking as I drank him down, and he released my hair, stroking the length of my back. Pulling away, I licked across my marks, forcing them to heal before I sank down into the bed.

  He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he pulled himself from my body, his chest heaving with the exertion as he balanced himself over me. “Thank you, mistress,” he murmured, his eyes opening again to show me that the demon was once again tightly bound, hidden from my view.

  “Rest, pet,” I ordered, tugging the blankets over us. I have plans for you later. I didn’t bother saying the words as I traced my fingers across his chest. I’d draw those demons out again, I promised myself, and I would learn the mask he wore as well. My pet wasn’t going to hide himself from me. I knew part of him still wanted me dead, but that didn’t matter to me. If anything, that threat lured me even more toward him. I’d help him embrace the monster he had within, and if anyone objected to my demon, I’d destroy them with a laugh and a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Crowe

  “Fucking Hemlock,” Draven hissed, rubbing a towel over his dark hair as he stepped into our room. I was the only one who had managed to avoid getting soaked in blood earlier, so I had waited while Draven showered. Our spells would remove the blood so we could utilize it later, but there was still something about showering after a torture session that seemed to finalize it.

  “Agreed.” I moved my eyes to the ceiling as Draven tossed his towel into the hamper, listening to the rustling of fabric as he dressed. “So do you feel like telling me what that was all about?”

  “Hm?” Draven grunted, purposely pretending he didn’t understand my question, and I ground my teeth together.

  “You fucking know what I mean, Dray,” I snapped, pushing to my feet as I faced off with him. “You let a vampire bite you.” I’d been on edge from the moment he suggested it, and only the need to get information from the servants who we had locked away had allowed me to focus on anything besides the anger roaring inside me. Watching Sebastian transition into that dark assassin had been a welcome—if disquieting—distraction as well. Now, though, I was ready to rake Draven over the coals. I had been shocked speechless when he’d offered himself to her, and only the fact that I knew Elsie couldn’t lie under oath bound questions I’d asked her had kept me from tossing her pretty ass into the same cells I held the humans in. We’d spent years fighting vampires, and for him to offer himself up as a meal had felt like some twisted spell, yet the oath bond had clearly shown she was no caster, exactly as we had assumed.

  Draven shrugged, settling himself onto his bed. “Felt damn good,” he admitted, his tongue toying with the silver ring in his lip, and I wanted to strangle him. Of course it fucking felt good—it was a biological response caused by the type of venom she had released into him, added to his insane masochistic tendencies.

  “How the hell did you go from wanting to find a way to punish her to wanting to be her food source?” I snarled, barely resisting the urge to plow my fist into his face. One of the things about having a masochist for a brother was beating on him when he pissed you off simply wasn’t as fun. Honestly, it was a little weird.

  He shook his head, his wet hair flopping across his forehead, before he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the pillows behind him. “I told you, Crowe. I always wondered what it was like. We hunt the casters, we work beside the non-casters. We watch the humans get bit. I’ve seen the pain and pleasure, and I’ve always wanted to know what it was like. I wasn’t stupid enough to offer myself up to just anyone. I knew the oath bond was enough to protect me, and it’s not like I told you to leave the damn room.” He glared
at me now, grabbing Bran’s blade from the dresser and beginning to twirl it.

  “But you hate her!” The words were loud, echoing in the simple room. “She pisses you off. She took Bran’s knife from you.”

  “I got it back,” he reminded me calmly, spinning it in a rapid circle as if to prove his point, and I drove my hands into my hair, pulling hard to center myself. What the hell was going on here? I was the calm one, the focused one, the one who was never ruffled, yet here I was tearing my hair out while my hot-headed twin sat serenely on his bed, flipping his knife as though he had no worries in the world.

  “Is this some kind of personality switching spell or something? Because if so, I want mine back,” I demanded, making him chuckle.

  “I think it’s more along the lines of jealousy,” he taunted, catching the blade while it was still a whirling, silver blur in the air, and I growled at him. His dark eyes met mine and he slowly arched a brow in challenge. “Are you saying you don’t think she’s gorgeous?”

  “She’s a vampire!” I said each word louder than the last until I was shouting at him, but he didn’t even flinch. “It doesn’t matter how she looks. We never touch them. Hell, what happened to teaching her a lesson? I think all you taught her was that you make a tasty snack.”

  Draven sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Look, I didn’t mean to cause an issue when I asked. You know how I can get.” I did know how he could get, that was true. Draven had no filter, which he’d proven over and over again. He also had very little in the way of self-control. If he wanted something, he took it. If he wanted to do something idiotic, he did it, consequences be damned. Bran had been exactly the same way, and it had cost him.

  “Dray…” I sat down beside my brother, clasping my hands together as I stared at the fine thread detailing on his bedspread.

  “I’m not Bran, Crowe,” Dray whispered, and I froze at the blunt words. “I’m rash. I have no skills when it comes to diplomacy or politics. I make decisions on the spur of the moment, and I go with my gut. But I’m not Bran. I won’t run off by myself. I won’t hide the truth from you to protect you. I wanted to know what it felt like, and a safe opportunity presented itself.”

  “You hoped,” I grumbled at him, pain tearing at my chest.

  “I knew. You really think I wanted you there to watch me get off?” He shoved me with a snort of derision. “You may be my twin, but that’s not my kink, thank goodness.” That made two of us. “I knew if I had misjudged things, if it started to go wrong, you were right there. You were steps from me, Crowe. You could heal me if she took too much. I didn’t hide what I was doing, I didn’t sneak behind your back, didn’t exclude you in any way. I made sure you had my back, just like I will always have yours.” His voice was gruff, and I swallowed hard around the emotions that wanted to rise in my throat. I wanted to rail at him, to yell and rave, to pound my fists into the wall as I called him a selfish idiot, a traitor to our brotherhood. But with a few well chosen words, he had shut me down completely. He was right, and no matter how I looked at the situation, I couldn’t force a different conclusion. Unfortunately, that left only one emotion behind—jealousy.

  “Did it really feel that good?” I stared at my hands, watching my knuckles bleach to white as I squeezed my palms tightly together.

  Draven sighed, pure ecstasy lacing the sound. “Crowe, good doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt.”

  “I still think it could be some kind of spell.” I knew the statement was mulish and far-fetched. The only possible way it could have been a spell was if someone had cast it on her without her knowledge. Otherwise, the oath would have alerted us. I stared at the interweaving marks on my wrist, watching them shift as I flexed my hand.

  “If it is, we’ll figure it out,” Draven assured me softly. “For now though, we need to focus on finding out why Hemlock wants pets destroyed and trying to get further in our research. I found a few potential leads in the journal I was working through, but part of it isn’t in a language I know. If we can get Sebastian or Elsie to translate for us, we could be one step closer to our goal, and—”

  “I don’t want you feeding her again.” I blew out a deep breath after I spat the words at him, interrupting him in the middle of his sentence. I squeezed my eyes shut, unwilling to look up at him and see the disappointment I knew would be on his face at my request.

  “Crowe…” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably beside me, but I shook my head.

  “I mean it, Dray. It’s too much of a risk. Until we can confirm whether or not she’s had any other spells placed on her, anything that may be drawing us to her or influencing us, it’s too much of a risk. The oath bond may protect you, but we can’t rely on that alone. Besides, I want to save the bond. Who knows what we’re going to need if we find a ritual that will work. She’s a princess, Draven. She’s got power and reach that even we don’t have. I’m not going to find the answers we need and then have to wait to cast the spell.” The muscle in my jaw tightened, but I turned to face him, grabbing his hand and squeezing lightly. “Please, Draven. You know what’s at risk. We can’t make the same mistakes Bran did. Not if we want to fix things.”

  Draven sighed, threading his knife through his fingers. “Fine, but I’m not waiting forever. I know she’s a vampire, Crowe, but she’s hot as hell and that bite may be one of my new favorite highs.” A distant look entered his eyes, making me swallow a growl. I wanted that look on my face, wanted the peace and pleasure he was clearly reliving. I had a duty, though, and my own pleasure wasn’t at stake here. Our future was. “One week,” he bargained. “We’ll see what we can find in that journal I mentioned. Then, if we don’t find anything, we’ll ask her to let us cast a searching spell on her. If she’s had spellwork done on her without her knowledge, she’ll probably want to know. She doesn’t seem like the type to have allowed that.” He had a point. Elsie would probably dismember every witch in the vicinity to get answers if she’d been spelled without her knowledge and permission.

  “Fine,” I agreed with a jerky nod. “But we’re getting up early tomorrow to get started.”

  Draven groaned, setting his blade aside and shoving me off his bed. “Fine. Then get your ass off my bed so I can get some sleep. Skinning that bastard wore me out.”

  I chuckled, flopping back onto my own bed and shifting onto my side as I tried to get comfortable, though my mind still spun. It seemed that every step we took closer to a solution, we ended up finding another obstacle in our way, forcing our path in a different direction, and I was getting tired of waiting. I was going to start blowing those obstacles to smithereens, consequences be damned. I didn’t care if I had to tie Elsie and Ash to the damn bed to force them to translate for me, I was getting answers. With that image dancing in my head, a smile curved my lips as I let myself fall asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Elsie

  Soft lips trailed up the nape of my neck, dragging me from dreams that dripped with blood and rang with screams. My mind took only a moment to catch up as teeth dug into the delicate skin where my shoulder met the column of my throat, and I moaned as Sebastian’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me against his chest, his cock hard and hot against my ass as I squirmed. His nails raked my skin hard enough to draw blood, and I gasped at the pleasure and pain, making him chuckle, the sound dark and full of promise.

  My pet had let his monster out to play again it seemed. I wondered briefly if he had even fallen asleep or if he’d simply waited, laying there pretending until I had slipped into my dreams—dreams of him. Dreams of the lithe, predatory way he moved. Of the way he wielded a knife like he was made for it. The way blood glistened nearly ruby red against his deeply tan skin, sparkling in the light as if begging me to lick it away. To sink my teeth into him and drink while I rode him until we both came apart with screams to rival our prey.

  “I should have brought that knife back with us. I don’t think those witch twins would have missed i
t.” His husky whisper had me shivering, even as he pressed against the small wounds he’d caused, letting the pain spiral into pleasure. “I may not have the teeth you do, mistress, but I can find other ways to hurt you.” I groaned at the dark promise, thrusting my hips back as I bucked against him. “I knew you’d like that idea. Your skin would mark up so prettily too. All that pale, smooth flesh.” He raked his nails across the curve of my breast and down my side. “I can just picture it now. How deep would you let me go if I carved my knife into you? Hm?” When I only groaned, he flipped me to my back, leaning over me as he took my mouth in a hungry kiss, grazing his lip against my fangs to make himself bleed. The taste of him filled my mouth—hot and rich with that slightly bitter edge—and my tongue darted across my lips to catch the drops he’d left behind as he trailed down my body.

  My skin throbbed where he marked me with his blood, small dots or long streaks, the prints of his lips or the pads of his fingers. He decorated my body, making me whimper and moan at the heat. “Can you imagine what this would feel like if your blood mixed with mine?” he purred, even as he bit me hard enough to break the skin and make me cry out with pleasure. “Just like that.” Approval laced his voice as he spread the blood he’d spilled down the curve of my hip and across my thigh.

  “Sebastian,” I cried out when he thrust two fingers into me, my inner walls fluttering around his curled digits.

  “I like the way my name sounds on your lips. I wonder if you’d still say it in the same way if my knife was buried in you here.” He traced my thigh where he’d marked me with my blood. “Your one little witch is a true masochist. What about you, mistress?” He added another finger, twisting and scissoring to stretch me open.