King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(42)

I was living in a whole new world.

I woke later and rolled over to find Adrian reclining in a chair across the tent. Candle flame flickered on a table beside him, highlighting his grim features. He was so pristine, so beautiful, I was glad I’d seen him with the woman earlier. I’d let a few kindnesses blind me to who he really was—a monster.

“Did you fuck her?” I asked. “The woman whose blood you took?”

His eyes connected with mine. “No.”

I studied his expression for a long moment, trying to decide if he was lying, but the Blood King had never been anything but honest—frustratingly so.

“Who…was she?”

I assumed she was now dead, but Adrian corrected me. “She is a vassal,” he said. “She—like many mortals—have agreed to serve me and my court.”

My gut reaction was to be disgusted. “Serve you?”

I did not know what that meant. Did that only mean bloodletting? Or was he suggesting more?

“They offer their blood and are richly rewarded,” he explained.

“So you bribe them?”

“You may call it whatever you like,” he said. “In the end, I am fed, and they are rich.”

“So you pay them from the treasury you stole?”

He stared at me, his hand propped against his face, lithe fingers fanned against his cheek. While I got the sense he did not like my reply, he also did not let my comment antagonize him as he answered, “At least I pay them.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I refrained and asked, “How often do you drink?”

“Every day,” he said.

“What happens if you don’t?”

“It is my sustenance,” he answered.

“You told me before I would beg you to take from me. Why would I ever want that?”

I could not imagine how he would think I would want him to feed from me.

He smiled. “Because as much as I draw life from it, all you will feel is sweet release,” he said, and then he tilted his head. “You like release, don’t you, Sparrow?”

I ignored his question. “I fail to see how something so vulgar could mean pleasure.”

“There are a lot of vulgar things that bring pleasure,” he said. “I am one of them.”

“So you are telling me this…bloodletting…brings your vassal pleasure?”

There was something about that knowledge that felt like betrayal.

Again, there was a pause as Adrian replied, “You are more than welcome to take her place.”

“I’d rather not,” I said.

I’d already offered my body to this man. Offering my blood would be an even greater betrayal. Besides, I did not like the idea of being connected to him in that way—of being sustenance.

“Have you been…fed from?” I asked.

“No,” he said, and there was a strange sadness to his eyes. “No one feeds from me.”

“Why?”

“Because I do not allow it.”

“Why?” My voice seemed to grow smaller and smaller. Adrian paused, staring at me before rising and approaching the bed. His robe hung open, exposing his chest and his erect cock, which was where my eyes caught until he placed his hand on my face, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Because only my queen may take from me, and she is mortal.”

Then his mouth closed over mine. I tried hard to keep my hands to myself, refusing to show him how much I wanted this, but I arched to him, like a puppet attached to a string. I released the furs from my grip and twined my fingers in his hair. He lifted me, my legs wound around his waist, and he turned to sit with me in his arms. My tunic rode up, and my naked flesh sat against his swollen length. The feel of him had my stomach tightening into a hard knot. His lips left mine to trail along my jaw, down my neck, over my shoulder. As he moved, I felt the scrape of his teeth. All the while, his hands pressed into my ass as he guided me along his cock. I gasped at the feel of him, thick and heavy between my thighs.

Then he dipped his head, his mouth closing over my nipple, peaked with arousal, and he spoke against my skin. “I could drink from you, you are so wet,” he said.

I found myself pushing him onto his back while I straddled him.

“Then drink,” I challenged, and he grinned as he guided me to his face. I kept most of my weight on my knees, staying still as he began, his tongue licking and thrusting, his lips sucking and kissing, but soon I started to rock against his mouth, tilting my hips, grinding harder. The more I moaned, the harder Adrian’s hands pressed into my thighs, my ass, my breasts. He was everywhere all at once, and I was lost in this, addicted to the feeling building inside me. I chased it, raced for it, setting a faster pace that Adrian seemed all too pleased to maintain. I came with a guttural cry, and he held me a few moments longer, drinking between my thighs just as he promised.

Then he helped me slide down his body before he rolled, pinning me beneath him on the bed. His legs parted mine, the crown of his cock poised at my entrance.

“How is tasting your come different from drinking your blood?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Drinking blood is sacrilege.”

“According to your goddess,” he said. “It’s not the first time Asha has villainized something she wished to destroy.”