Chapter 28: Bloodlust

The tempest thrashed on past midnight.

Thunder growled across faraway hills, and rain pounded the palace walls with fists. I did not sleep — not for what had happened in the throne room. Not for what I'd seen Kael burn his court for me.

But it was not the blood and the violence that left rest behind.

It was the look in his eye.

That greasy greed.

That dirty, good hunger.

I wandered up and down restlessly between the room walls. The flames had gone down to coals. The shadows crept out on the floor, foul and sinuous, so that the room felt too large, too vacant. I tied the loose robe around me, attempting to dry the clamminess that clung to me like a wet shroud.

There was a knock at the door and I began.

I gritted through it, thudding my heart.

I did not even have a moment in which to shout before the door creaked on its hinges.

Kael faced me, lit by torches.

No word. Not needed. Eyes — now searing gold, instead of crimson — locked into mine and stilled me.

Every cell was shouting at me to run away.

And I crept closer to him.

He was soaked to the bone, his black top stuck to his chest, mapping every curve of muscle. Dark hair was slicked back behind him, hair stuck to his forehead, and water dripped from the tip of his fingers to the ground.

The rain hadn't accompanied him.

Not rain.

Something else.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

"Kael," I panted, in question or appeal, I couldn't say.

He took two strides across the room, and my spine rested against the cold stone wall, his body in mine, pinning me in, his arms set on either side of my head.

He was too close. Too, too close.

His smell — a lethal combination of rain and blood and something irretrievably him — flooded my lungs.

You don't stare at me like that," he snarled at me, his voice cracked and splintered, shredded on shards of glass.

"Like what?" I gasped.

"Like you're not afraid."

I pulled myself a little further up, obstinate. "I'm not."

His snarl was a growl in the bottom of his chest. His fists shook at his hips, fighting some war in there.

"You should," he growled. "You don't know what you're messing with."

My heart skipped a beat.

I should have been afraid.

Instead, heat ran low in my stomach, searing me like fire.

"Then show me," I challenged him, my voice near a whisper.

Something feral flickered on his face.

He moved — quickly enough that I hadn't had time to tense myself — bending my wrists and holding them in one hand cupped over my head. His other was around the outside of my jaw, tilting my face back to expose the smooth curve of my throat.

I could feel the sting of his fangs against my skin.

My heart was racing.

"Kael," I breathed again, this time a broken, desperate whisper.

He was tugging himself so hard against me, and I could feel all of him — hard, tightly coiled muscle, urgent need.

His mouth kissed the thudding pulse at the hollow of my throat. He was panting hot and strained. I could feel the shake in his hands, the struggle racking him.

Every inch of me was shouting yes.

I pushed my head out again, presenting myself. Believing in him, when I shouldn't.

He swore, beast, wracking curse.

His mouth worked over my flesh — a whisper of touch — and left me trembling in corkscrews of madness. His fangs bit over my pulse, and I drew in a gasp of cold air, my body bending to his without thought.

"Scarlett," he whispered, voice torn asunder.

"You don't know what you're doing to me."

"I don't care," I panted.

And on that, something in him broke.

He bit.

Not fierce — not now. This was something else. Edge, surface pain, clutching more than devouring.

I was full, unshaven, and blinding. I screamed out, bruised lips on his shoulder. My fingers cramped in his grip, needing to wrap him, hold on to something as the world whirled away.

Kael had once tasted and winced in a snarl — backing away from me so quickly I staggered.

His eyes were black now, dark as the obsidian to which they had returned, and his lips reddened.

"Enough," he snarled, restricting his voice with control.

He backed away, covering his mouth with his hand, shuddering head to toe.

I trembled there, shivering, dazed, sensing the beat of the bond pulsing between us like a living entity.

"Kael…" I stepped forward.

"Don't," he snarled, voice cracking. "Don't move any closer."

He spun to face me, fists at his waist. I could sense how his shoulders shook, how he struggled to stay still.

"If I get so much as one more kiss," he panted, "I'll never be able to let it alone."

A shiver crept down me — not fear, but the ravaged, starving hunger that was a shadow of my own.

I touched the new scar on my throat, tracing the slow, sensual beat of it with my fingertips. Not just blood he'd taken. He'd taken a piece of me.

Left a piece of himself behind.

"Why?" I exclaimed. "Why did you go away?"

His laughter was as black and deadly as poison.

"Because," he told me, his back turned to me, "if I go crazy with you… there is no coming back."

Those were the words that cut more deeply than any blow.

Because they were true.

Because despite all of that, despite him being unkind to me, despite the walls he still kept between us —

Kael was afraid of what he felt for me.

Of what we could be.

And maybe, so was I.

I watched his broad shoulders heave and fall in gruff gulps. I watched him fight in himself, battle with us, until at last he gulped again, "Get some sleep."

And before I had a chance to say another word, he stalked off into the darkness of night and left me standing there — heartbeat pounding, blood pounding, and a scar on my neck that would not heal.

Whatever we may wrestle.

To be continued…