So I can watch her with others, male and female, and ultimately see her pick a husband that’ll stand by her side . . .
I’m growling into the silence of my room at the thought, on fire with the need to slaughter this nameless male, when she sends me a final message.
I’m not the one ruining anything. You’re the stubborn, old fool that thinks to replace me with stand-ins, fucking your way through them all. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go back to taking pages out of your book.
And she logs off, leaving me here, trapped in the most important, losing battle of my life.
She’s going out there to fuck and feed. Now.
I’m out of my chair and rushing to get dressed, my mind fixated on one thing.
Stop her.
thirteen
I didn’t stop her.
As a matter of fact, I never even found her. Didn’t lay eyes on her again until three days after at the council meeting to discuss the new laws being enacted.
The goal of being at that meeting was to gain enough information to understand where the kingdom’s truly at.
The only thing I walked away with is the fact that she now has nine triumph tattoos, and the five new ones are hot as fuck on her body. She picked primitive, ancient images instead of the typical ones that are chosen nowadays, and the choices made me want her to myself that much more.
I want her naked.
I want to be the one giving her those beautiful markings.
Flashing to the tattooing chambers, where the soldiers come to observe the rituals as well as get their work done, I look among the crowded area. Malachai informed me she was getting her tenth tattoo today. She’s supposed to be here.
The buzzing of tattoo-guns rents the air, the mystically enforced steel carving away at immortal flesh. One female looks up from where she’s tattooing another female’s back. “Sire, may we help you?”
“I search for the princess. I was told she was here.”
“Princess Calamity requested that Segil tattoo her directly in her chambers, my lord,” a dark-haired male responds.
Another tradition broken. Why am I not surprised?
Dematerializing, I reform within her rooms, the one place I haven’t dared come to this entire time. Yet I’m beyond that now. Beyond caution. Even as my eyes land on her and Segil in the middle of the room, where he’s set up his temporary tattoo-station, I’m aware of the danger of this.
Of where it’s leading.
But I can’t stop myself. Not anymore.
Segil pauses instantly when he sees me standing here, in the middle of this black-and-white room. He’s the one that’s done most of my tattoos for the last millennium and I wonder if Calamity knew that when she requested him. “My liege.” Segil lowers the gun and flashes to his feet to bow.
Calamity doesn’t acknowledge my presence, merely sighs under her breath and stares at where he left the tattoo gun. The ancient symbol for phoenix is nearly finished along her upper arm.
“Segil, leave us.” I jerk my head towards the doors.
That gets Calamity’s attention. Her withering glare turns in my direction, the hot warning in it obvious and deadly.
“But sire, I wasn’t—”
“I’ll be finishing the tattoo for her, Segil,” I reply, but I’m staring right at her as I say it, daring her to deny me this.
Her lips part as if she’s about to but something in my stare must stop her.
Flustered and obviously confused, Segil bows to me, turns to bow to her, and disappears right after.
Calamity doesn’t say anything, merely continues to glare at me in her silent fury.
How many lovers did she take in the last few days that I’ve been searching for her? I’ve taken none, too obsessed with locating her, and the mere scent of her activates bloodlust. We’re two racing heartbeats, she and I. Her dark, purple veins seem to offer themselves to me beneath her translucent skin.
The edges of my vision pulse. Mouth flooded with saliva and venom, I risk approaching her as she continues sitting on that velvet black settee. I should leave before this goes further, but the idea of finishing her tattoo, of being the one marking her, is more powerful than any sense of self-preservation.
She refuses to look at me, staring calmly ahead as I situate myself and reach for the dormant tattoo gun. The tiny drops of her blood that have leaked out through the ink shatter me. I somehow find the will to ignore its siren’s call.
Picking it up, I call on eons of battle experience, of strength, to control my desire to dive for her neck. Her arm is solid, carved by feminine muscle as all female’s of our species are, the skin warm in my grip. I hold her with one hand and aim the needle with the other.
Neither one of us speaks as I resume what Segil began. Each pass of the needle unleashes another burst of that scintillating blood. I swallow compulsively as I work, dick kicking inside my jeans. All she needs to do is stare at my crotch and she’ll have no doubt where my mind’s at.
Reaching for the cloth on the steel table, I wipe at her tattoo. It comes away streaked with ink and her blood. Her sweet, musky, pulsing blood.
I squeeze my eyes shut, that roar building in my head. Bite. Tear. Suck. Own her!
The table is pushed away from us with enough force to send it flying. At first I think it was her, until I see my own hand throwing the tattoo gun in the direction the table went.
Calamity is scrambling away from me, flat on the settee now, huge eyes tracking my movements.
And I’m rearing over her in a perfect arch, a vampire of old fables rising from its crypt to consume the innocent virgin. Except this is no virgin and I have no idea who she’s been fucking the last few days.
When she should only be fucking me.
I climb over the arm of the settee, reaching for her kicking legs.
“Don’t!” she snaps, chest heaving. “Don’t you dare start something you aren’t going to finish!”
“I’m eating your pussy. Now. And I’m damn well finishing it.” I hear my warped voice as if from afar. My tattooed hands reach for her black jeans, tearing at the zipper. Repaying her favor from the other night.
Calamity arches under me with a gasp and the sight of her fangs through her parted lips undoes me.
“You’re drinking me while I swallow every drop your pussy gives me,” I snarl at her, yanking those jeans down her—
Son. Of. A. Bitch. She’s what the humans call commando under there.
“You walk around like this all the time?” I snap at her, throwing her shredded jeans over my shoulder.
Shameless, she leans back, spreading those luscious thighs. Every thought I’ve ever had or ever will have is scrambled at the plush, glistening flesh between her thighs as her lips part to expose her swollen clit. I’m choking on the scent of it, how badly I want it in my mouth, when she has the nerve to throw her answer at me. “Makes for easy access. Why shouldn’t I?”
“The gods damn you, Calamity.” I lift her with one arm, depositing her against the arm of the opposite end of the settee, and force my way between her legs.
Don’t even have a chance to get there. She beats me to it, long, graceful fingers working between her bare, plump folds. There’s a small patch of black hair at the top of her slit, the perfect decoration on that beautiful cunt.
Mouth parted, chest heaving as I struggle to regain civility, I watch those fingers scoop up that juicy wetness. Then, an evil smirk transformation her otherwise innocent-looking face, she holds up those fingers to my mouth, whispering, “Taste it.”
And I know.
This is the end if the line.
The point of no return.
We’re about to be irrevocably changed. She wants to possess me, and after today I’ll never live in peace if I don’t possess her.
This entire kingdom—my brother and her mother—might not be able to handle this kind of betrayal.
But I can’t give a fuck.
Groaning, I melt against her, suc
king her drenched fingers into my mouth.
fourteen
T he taste of her does exactly what I would’ve predicted, unleashing a ferocity that’s going to ruin us both. I drag my tongue along her fingers as I release them, sucking up as much of her as I can, before diving straight for that pussy.
I lap at her in a long lick, working the tip of my tongue along her swollen clit.
Calamity cries out my name, arching back along the settee’s arm, baring her throat to me.
I just want to spread her legs, hold her down, and fuck her like an animal, but tearing myself away from this pussy is going to be impossible. Moaning, I kiss her clit before flicking my tongue along it again, loving the way her breath hitches at the feeling.
Slipping my hands beneath her, I cup her ass cheeks, and another moan is torn from me.
Fuck. Can’t wait to see her ass bouncing as I take her from behind.
Holding her up to my mouth, I alternate sucking on her lips and licking that little swollen nub.
Calamity presses the back of her hand to her mouth, fangs sinking into her skin and drawing blood. “Oh gods . . . the way you make my pussy feel.”
Lost in the scent of her arousal all over my nose, mouth, and beard, I can hardly take the added scent of that blood. Groaning her name against her flesh, I eat her faster, fighting the urge to bite into one of those succulent lips and drink her from there.
Wild and completely feral, she begins working her hips to the strokes of my tongue, her fingers digging into my hair.
“Fuck. Right there, little one. Show me how you like it.”
She groans at my command, arching against my face. “Finger me while you eat me. I want it to feel like your cock.”
Motherfucker. Lost in her, I give her what she wants, sliding first one finger in her, retreating, and coming back with three. She takes them with a lusty growl, leaving no doubt at her lack of virginity.
My vision bleeds red with hypocritical anger.
Possessiveness.
Licking her faster, I let her ride my fingers, loving how her pussy gets wetter with each pass. “Who does this belong to, Calamity?” Foolish question. Dangerous question.
My downfall wrapped up in six words.
Pulling my hair, she wiggles to get me where she needs me, breasts heaving. “You know I want it to belong to—oh! You. You. But you’re the moron who won’t—holy shit. Holy fuck. Right there, please.”
My shoulders rise and fall as I battle for constraint. I’m shaking with it.
Calamity drops her hands, tearing at her shirt to bare her breasts. They bounce free, pale, plump mounds with their hard, dark pink nipples, the sight of them making my cock leak. She plays with them, pussy tightening with need, and I almost mount her right here.
“You want me to fuck you hard,” I tell her between ravenous licks.
She releases one breast, biting into her lip, making herself fucking bleed even more, and claws at the fabric of the settee behind her head. “I want you to fucking own me, you idiot!” Those black eyes find mine, dark, seductive, possessive, and I need to bite through the inside of my cheek to stop myself from fucking her.
Groaning, I set back in, rubbing my cheek against her. My chin. Soaking up every ounce of her musky arousal and knowing damn well all it’ll do is haunt me worse than the female herself. But I can’t stop. Won’t stop. Sucking her clit, I once again battle the desire to drink right from her pussy.
Calamity pulls my hair harder, riding my face. As if she can read my mind, she arches, whimpering, “Do it. Bite me.”
I curse out against her wet, pulsating flesh, spearing her deeper with my fingers. We’re straining on the settee, sending it screeching along the floor. I’m on fucking fire and no matter how much of her I swallow down, it’s not enough to ease the dry burn in my throat.
Pussy tightening around my fingers, she wiggles again, mouth parted in what looks like awe. “Do it,” she whispers between gasps, staring into my eyes. “Drink me.”
Time slows as my impulse control is obliterated by those words. Eyes locked with hers, I ease up just enough to pinch one of her lips between my fangs, slowly biting down . . .
I prick her, drawing a drop of blood. It hits my tongue with all the force of a supernova, racing straight into my veins. Pumping my fingers faster, I suck on her lip, drawing yet more blood.
And that’s all it takes for her to shatter around me, the wet sounds of her orgasm filling the room beneath her screams.
My wild, frenetic grunts.
Air rips its way in and out of my lungs, pleasure and panic twisting into one decimating emotion. Her blood ignites my own, boiling, and I can’t do anything but fuck her faster with my fingers, eat her harder—
Calamity pushes against my forehead with enough strength to send me rearing backwards.
The deprivation is an instant hell, as if being denied the kill, and every vampiric instinct in my body riots.
That is, until she flashes onto my lap, hands pulling my hair, bringing me to her mouth. She kisses me with the same fervor I just ate her pussy, one hand dropping to caress my wet beard.
I clutch her to me, maneuvering her as we kiss so that she’s straddling me, bare pussy on my jeans.
Feel her anyway. Going to go crazy if I’m not in her the very next second.
No, Obsidian. You’ve gone far enough. Stop this. My cock disagrees, hips grinding into her.
She purrs into my mouth, curled around me, and slows our kiss to a toe-curling, languid glide. Hands rubbing down my chest, she urges me to lean back against the arm behind me. Still kissing me, practically drugging me, she works at my pants, and I’m too lost to stop her or take control of this anymore.
The sound of my zipper lowering fills the room. I growl as her intention registers—the fact that she wants to reciprocate and suck my dick—my heart racing at the thought of seeing her beautiful face there. I let her position me, hips rocking towards her.
That sexy purr in my mouth again. Her wet tongue teasing mine. Her hand wrapping around my dick.
My mind blanks, the instinct to claim her growing.
The first knock along her doors isn’t heard. Or maybe we just don’t feel like heeding it. But by the third knock, Calamity eases away from me.
Her mother’s voice trails into the room from the other side of the chamber. “Calamity. Are you decent? You asked me not to flash in there, but this is urgent.”
My heart stops at the realization that Alessandra is second’s from coming in here.
That Calamity is practically naked in my arms.
Her hand’s on my cock.
Even if I leave now, they’ll be no mistaking the scents in the room.
“Calamity? I’m coming—”
“Give me a second, mother! I’ll be right out.” Facing me once more, Calamity mouths, “Go.”
I want to disagree. Refuse to leave her here to deal with this on her own.
Yet my sense of panic over the discovery—what her mother and the citizens might think of her once this gets out—practically drags me out of the room.
Throwing her a last glance, I dematerialize back to my chambers.
It isn’t until I’m back in my room that I realize how utterly unconcerned Calamity was.
Even with her mother seconds away from catching us in the act.
fifteen
D ays go by, and I wait for the confrontation with each one. A pre-council meeting with my brother—nothing. Meals taken with the family was more of the same. Alessandra interacted with me as if nothing, showing no signs of suspicion.
How did Calamity manage to waylay her mother? She must’ve, if Alessandra didn’t pick up our scents. Her daughter must have found a way to stop her from entering that room.
Each day that passes my own suspicions about the situation continue to grow.
Unfortunately, so does this odd “fever”, for lack of a better term.
Bloodlust is a mockery compared to this. Lust? Even mor
e pitiful. The desire to consume Calamity—every drop her body has to give—has strengthened to a point that I’m afraid to be near her, and not for the usual reasons anymore.
No matter how unique or powerful she is, I’m two-in-a-half-millennia old. She’s twenty-one. I possess the ability to snap her in half if I’m not careful.
I possess the ability to drain her past the point of regeneration.
The way I feel lately? Fuck being careful. The urge to unleash the full force of my desire on her is a violence-tinged fantasy, one in which I’m dominating her, spanking her until she can’t see straight.
Taking every single hole on her, whether she’s gone that far or not.
Not that keeping my distance makes a difference. Never did before, so why would it now?
She’s still haunting me. Trying to get closer.
Like tonight.
I’m lost in another dream; I think I know this even as the dream begins. This time I’m in the throne room, with its vaulted ceiling, intersecting arches, and stained-glass windows. It’s been transformed into a grotesque version of itself, with dead flower petals strewn throughout the gleaming floor.
In the middle, in front of the short dais holding the thrones, a faceless female kneels amidst dozens of white, burning candles. The skirt of her black dress billows around her. Head tilted to the side, she holds her hands out before her, offering me the skull of a baby deer.
The flickering candle lights reflects off the gold, spiraling horns. Horns that tickle at a part of my mind, almost as if I’ve seen them before.
Just as I open my mouth to demand her name, the scenery changes in a whirlwind. Suddenly it’s fogged, blue skies, with nothing else in sight.
A nearly undecipherable whisper in the wind.
“Obsidian . . .”
She’s behind me.
I turn in a rush of movement, heart beating with furious hunger. She’s off in the distance, dressed in all black. Two wooden spikes rise at an angle behind her. The wind whips her black hair before her face—before those all-black eyes, glistening with lust.
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