Areltha boiled. Lorian could almost feel the bubbles of heat on her skin, even if imaginary. She admired him, lusted after him when he was punishing the slaves and he used it against her. Always. Areltha was a ever burning branch which he entangled with poisoned vines, feeding on her fire.
Her husband never understood that. Never got deeper with her. That’s why she left him and fed him. He knew her desire is like a ocean of blood. And she needed the bloody rain to expand, not a dam.
She kissed him voraciously, biting his tongue and drawing his blood. He pressed her between his body and the table. Her room was dark, fairy lights were scarce, but they will arrive soon, driven by the darkness of their passion. His groin pushed between her legs and she opened them, wide. Willing. Desiring him. Just how he liked most. He didn’t even need to touch her yet. She was dripping with lust.
“My lord…” she moaned into his mouth. “Your Majesty…”
He got hard. Fast. His erection rubbed her through his trousers, their need swelling between them.
“You need a slow treatment, Areltha” he purred, clutching at her hips. “Something that will make you beg.”
She nodded eagerly, pushing her hips up, to meet him and press and rub. She was like clay in his hands. Devoted. Deadly.
Stupid like a wild hare.
He never got attached to her, but his loins needed her. Her devotion and charming, desirable stupidity. She was another toy… but of noble lineage.
“Please…” she grunted, when he continued to rub her, edging her spot mercilessly. Her body squirmed. Like fish out of water – and her water was him. “Make me yours again.”
His teeth bit the sensitive skin of her ear petal. She shivered.
“Patience, my Blood.”
She loved that name. Her eyes were like rubies, shining, wide and slanting, reminding him of a wild lakai. Crimson eyes, bloody, like her desire and ways to reach fulfillment. Nymre called her touched by the empty moon. A time, when fae women bled and could have children. Nymre never ceased to amuse his mind. Her cleverness and sharp tongue.
“My lord…” her crimson eyes suddenly looked at him with maddening intensity. His fingers closed over her jaw and held her. She moaned. Her whole body was softened, ready to receive him. “My lord… I… I know you feel bound to the raven faery…”
Lorian’s talons dug tighter into her cheeks, but Areltha continued.
“I want to give you a gift. Release you. Give you love that you really deserve. Offer you freedom from old bonds.”
His smile didn’t go off his lips. Kind, desirable, beautiful.
Like death in flames.
“I can remove Nymre. Not kill her. Just… remove. She stands between us, and you won’t turn her away. You deserve woman who won’t be quarreling with you, won’t oppose you. You need a woman that will pleasure you, not wound you…”
I need a slave? Lorian chuckled lightly. He had her already, and many other human slaves. And he didn’t plan to marry any of them. This poor woman thought that Nymre will allow her to remove herself. How… deliciously naive. Areltha… good to fuck, but so annoying to talk to.
His grip on her face loosened. Areltha breathed with full chest, wanting to pull him closer, but then, she was tossed against the table. Hard. So hard, that it pushed the air from her lungs. And didn’t allow her to take more.
She started to choke, when Lorian’s shadows started to coil around her limbs, a slow caress, no pain, but not the pleasure too.
Lorian allowed her to gasp and toss, and taking the glass of summer wine, he approached the window. Snowstorm raged outside, easily felt through the magical barrier. His heated skin cooling in the calm breeze, which was true winter – adapted to interior life. He heard gurgling sounds of Areltha behind his back, who tried to scratch her throat, in futile – his shadows were already inside her body.
He released her.
Areltha fell on the ground, eyes wide, her body trembling from pain and fear. Lorian observed her, when she moved in his direction, scrambling on her feet, hands around her throat.
“You are extremely slow, my Blood” he mused and sipped his wine. Sweet, sweeter than winter pears.
Areltha fell on her knees before him. Lorian eyes set at her with a deadly intensity – just like she was looking at him moments ago. Her shaking hands reached to his trousers and between his legs. Slowly started to undo the material again.
“So that’s how you want to ask for forgiveness?” he laughed, a seductive laugh. His eyes were serious, though, cruel and cold. A void, sucking her all courage in. “Continue then.”
Areltha took him in her hands, whole shaking, and started to rub, slowly – she knew how he liked it. She learnt that through many years.
“My beautiful Blood” his voice was as cold as winter wind. “There are things we never discussed. Things that should be obvious to every Fae in this palace.”
She lowered and her tongue found the tip of his penis. She coiled it around him. And started to suck, looking at him, her body still shivering. Her eyes met his, while she bobbed, trying to coax his mercy.
“If you ever try to harm Nymre. In any way. In any form. You will please me with your innards. I will devour you, Areltha, served on a golden plate. Painfully and gloriously alive.”
She released him from her mouth, still caressing him. Her voice choked inside her throat. She just nodded, slowly.
“I will know, if you move a finger against her” his smile was sweetest than sugar. “And now, I am not pleased with you.”
“Forgive me, my lord” she muttered, raspy and heavily. Lorian buried his fingers in her thick black hair. Her expression was both pained and elated.
She liked that.
Of course she did. He had a type in women.
“You angered me, my Blood.”
“I angered my Lord” she lowered her gaze. Areltha, diving in his displeasure like in sea of sugary honey. Yet… still fearing death more than anything else. He could see her thoughts, frantically insecure, afraid of ultimate end.
“You need to feel it” he lifted her chin. Her lips glistened from sucking him. “You need to understand it.”
“I want to feel your anger” she breathed. Aroused by her own fear.
No one fears better than those who love to be afraid.
And no one wants to live forever as much as them.
He leaned over her, his shadows coiling around her neck again. A moan broke from her, much more needy than before. Her arousal battled with her fear, an amalgamate of intoxicating kind.
“Now…”
His talon slid over her lower lip, parting flesh and squeezing out a single drop of blood.
“… suck.”