Crown of Blood and Glass

Crown of Blood and Glass

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Devonry

There is no fire, but there is warmth—a heat so wicked that it threatens to burn me down to my very core. It sends sweat down my spine, and at the same time, it calls to me like an old friend. Like a memory … one I should know but can’t recall. It escapes me, slipping from between my fingers like smoke.

Fingertips trace the shape of my face, making my whole body jerk in surprise. Through the shadows, I sense him. His breath is hot and damp in my face. I can taste his need. His torment. It’s violent, like the man himself.

Solomon’s nails, usually filed down, are sharp and vicious. His true awakening has peaked. The monster within is as close to the surface as I’ve ever felt it, leaving him balancing on the thin line of control. Something hot and hard presses insistently against my inner thighs. That warmth from earlier steals up and over my face as my own response softens my insides. My teeth rake against my lower lip as I try to catch my breath.

The Gods are cruel creatures.

Of all the men they could bring so low, why did it have to be him?

And why—oh why—do I have to care?

Solomon tries to be gentle, but it’s almost as if he can’t help himself. His grip is punishingly tight, so much so that he threatens to break me into a million pieces. I almost hope he does. Then I would be freed from these emotions, these physical reactions to him. He turns his hand until just the tip of his sharpened claw touches my jawline.

“So soft,” he mutters. “You’re always soft, and you smell like the realm of the Gods. You smell like divinity itself.” The sound of his raspy voice, heavy with lust and something deeper … darker, makes me shiver in his arms.

As if to prove his point, he leans closer, skimming his nose over my throat in a way that makes my heart jump straight to a gallop inside my veins. He inhales deeply, a harsh groan rumbling up his naked chest as it presses against my front. I close my eyes, squeezing them shut against the never-ending darkness that surrounds us.

I’ve seen Solomon naked before but never this intimately. Even then he wasn’t the massive creature that now cradles me in his arms. The stone walls surrounding us invade us with their frosty coldness, but here, in the space where his skin brushes mine, it’s like being licked by fire. The sounds of bugs chirping, the feel of soil under our bodies, and hard rock at our backs and sides sweeps all around us. None of it is enough of a distraction for what lies before me, for the man—the monster that lies before me. I didn’t know how a woman should feel when a man presses between her legs.

A part of me hates that he’s the one to introduce me to the sensation.

In days past … weeks, months? … I would not be doing this. A Princess’ virtue is a bargaining tool. It is proof of sacrifice. Whereas other women are allowed to take lovers at their discretion, a Princess—a future Queen—is held to a much higher standard.

But what use is virtue to a Kingdomless Princess? What use is it when there is no one to follow, no one to rule, no one to protect?

My heart pounds inside of my chest, a wild, untamed thing. My lashes are wet with unshed tears and so much emotion, it clogs inside my throat. I’ve known Solomon since we were children—angry, resentful, bitter children who took out our frustrations on each other.

He’s not my friend. I hate him. Or so I thought…

“Are you frightened?”

His question has me arching my head back to look down into his darkened face. Shadows dance around his features. The cavern echoes back his words to me, but I don’t know how to answer. Am I frightened? It would be wrong to say I’m not at least a little scared of him. He’s so … big. His muscles are swollen with power, bulging his arms to the size of small tree trunks as they wrap around me, keeping me securely locked against his chest. His Awakened form is almost that of a monstrous creature with only a hint of the human man left behind.

I should fear him, I think, yet somehow … I can’t bring myself to. Of all the men in the world, Solomon is the one I can trust. The only one that I know with a certainty that is centuries old and soul deep would never harm me. My earlier hatred—childish and comfortable as it was—is gone.

I shake my head. “No.” My voice bounces off the walls, the unsteady sound a reflection of how on edge I feel. I may not be frightened by Solomon, but I am afraid of what continuing with this will mean for us.

Some people believe that there is room for an untold amount of emotion in the human body, but I disagree. There is only so much hatred one can harbor before it taints your soul. The part that hates the man currently lying over me, pressing his lips to my skin, and circling his hips between my thighs has dampened.

A gasp escapes me and I arch my head back as fire sparks down my spine and spreads throughout my body. It’s not right. It’s not fair. Solomon is … he left. He walked away when we were children, after making me care, after befriending me, and when he came back, he was different. Battle changed him. It changed us so wholly that I thought there was no coming back.

Maybe at one point, he was my enemy, but now … he’s my savior. And right now, he needs me to be his savior.

“Solo.”

His head jerks at the sound of my voice and his lips pull away from a sweeping kiss in the crook of my neck. As they do, I can feel the sharp pin pricks of his elongated teeth. I tremble at the reminder of the cost of his abilities. With shaking hands, I reach between us and the front of my dress loosens over my breasts. His hands clamp on either side of my hips as he holds himself above me.

Only the barest shape of him is visible in the darkness, but still, I can see the way his chest pumps with effort. His shoulders are wide and strong. His arms encase me, making me feel tiny against the wide expanse of his chest. Sweat slicks our skin, making every movement of bare flesh against flesh smooth. I wonder if he’s blushing. Solomon isn’t the type, but the bare skin against mine feels hot enough. Perhaps that’s just the power of his Awakened abilities—the connection of his bloodline to the Gods as a nobleman of Rozentine. Whatever it is, it feels divine.

“Highness…”

I shake my head. “No, don’t call me that.” Not here. Never here.

A pause and then, “Devonry?”

If it weren’t for Solo, I’d be dead, or worse—locked up in the Sunfire Palace as a puppet Queen trapped by the man who stole everything from me. My home. My life. My family. My trust.

All around us, I hear nothing but the sounds of eerie nature. The open cave makes it all echo inside my head. The slow drips of water sliding over stone. Fish splashing in nearby pools of water. And outside, the wind blowing and rustling the leaves clinging to trees.

I tilt my head to the side, offering my throat to him. “Take what you need,” I tell him.

Claws contract and release at my sides, those sharp nails of his threatening to dig past my clothing and right into my skin. Long moments pass and my embarrassment and reserve are shaken. I glance back at him, trying to see his expression, no matter how futile it is.

“Solomon?” My voice echoes off the stone walls, unsure. It takes a moment but when he finally responds, it sends all the blood inside my body rushing to my face, as well as … other places.

“I should not want you as I do, Devonry,” he says, his voice quiet and gripped in dark desire.

“I-it’s not your fault,” I tell him, reaching up. My hand slides over the side of his face, feeling how hard his skin has gotten. It’s like cold marble against my palm, but as I move upward, into the silky strands of his hair, I realize that hasn’t changed at all. The inky black locks of Solomon’s hair slide through my fingers like the finest of fabrics. I shiver as I stare at where I expect my hand is in the darkness, and when I turn my face back to his, I realize there’s a new light.

A red light.

Solomon’s eyes are glowing, the crimson of his eyes illuminating as they shine down on me, and for the briefest moment, I can see his expression. My breath catches in my chest. His lips are twisted back in a horrifying grimace and the sharp pointed tips of his canines poke through. His fangs. Straight, white, and sharp at the ends, they peek out over his lower lip, stabbing into the soft flesh there as he unintentionally bares them. Solomon looks like he’s in agonizing pain. The bloody glow of his eyes is slanted down on me through the slits his lids create. He looks like he wants to both consume me and rip himself away at the same time. It’s a war within him—the desire to have me and release me.

I can’t let him. Aerea warned me—the Goddess said that there would come a day when I might need to make a choice. I thought it was my first kill, but maybe it’s this. Maybe this is the true sacrifice.

Solomon wants me, that much is clear from the hard length of his shaft straining against his trousers and the perspiration that glitters across his skin. The tawny darkness of his flesh calls to me. I inhale sharply, my mind fogging over with uncertainty. A wave of enigmatic emotion that I can’t quite express or understand swarms me. I want to help him. I want to ease the pain he’s feeling, but I don’t know how, beyond giving into what he’s currently doing.

I blink back tears as I set my hands to his skin, feeling the heat radiate along my arms and through my own body. Solomon might look like a monster now, as he battles his own inner demons, but he has never been more beautiful to me.

Virtue be damned; I will always be the true Queen of Rozentine—with or without it. And if it takes the loss of my virtue to help Solomon remain sane as his power reaches new heights, then so be it.

Without giving him any more time to agonize over it, I circle my hand to the back of Solomon’s head and I arch up against him. The front of my dress falls down and for a brief moment, the sleeves catch along my arms. I’m messing this up. I’m supposed to be seducing him, making sure he takes my blood and … everything else.

He saved me from a fate worse than death, now it’s my turn to save him from himself, from insanity.

“I could hurt you.” He sounds angry, and I know a part of that anger is directed at me for not doing what I was told originally. For not running when this first started.

“I don’t care,” I reply. “You need this, and…” Hated, though it may be, I reveal the truth. “I need you.”

The sleeves of my gown fall further, exposing more of my upper body, as I brush against his chest. The gown’s neckline gapes down, past the tips of my nipples as they scrape into the hair roughened surface of Solomon’s pecs. Feeling the pricks of his hair against my smooth skin makes me shiver. His muscles tighten, forming like hard rocks beneath his flesh. My nerves tense with anticipation. My thighs tremble beneath him as I press my lips to his unyielding mouth.

“Please.” I whisper the word even as I tremble with humiliation. I’ve never begged or pleaded before. It feels wrong. Especially when I’m doing this to try and save him. I need him to be saved, though. It’s a selfish desire, I admit. I cannot imagine a world in which he doesn’t exist. I cannot lose him now and most certainly not to his own Bloodlust and powers.

Come on, Solo … I mentally urge him. Help me. Please.

Either he hears my internal plea or he finally gives up on restraint—whatever the case, in the next instant, I hear the low growl of his assent and his mouth opens under mine. A gasp escapes me as he shoves his tongue between my lips, diving deep and stealing away my thoughts as his clawed hands find themselves on my hips.

He yanks me forward and suddenly I’m sitting astride him—that hard length of him from earlier rubbing up and down against the sensitive place between my thighs. I gasp again, but no air infiltrates my lungs. It’s all been sucked away, leaving no room between us.

Sparks dance between the spaces of my fingers as I clench my hand in his hair and relish in the kiss. I’ve been kissed before—small pecks here and there. Stolen. Hidden in nooks and crannies of the Palace before my betrothal by curious and hopeful noblemen. But this is something completely different. It’s different even than all of those dream kisses. I didn’t realize it then, but those were a watered-down version of what I feel now.

Against Solomon’s enhanced form, my body is small. My hands aren’t even half the size of his and the breadth of his shoulders encompasses me as his tongue tangles with mine. I’m surrounded by him—by the wild nature of his scent, like fire and wet soil. He invades my every pore, driving out all thought.

Never in a million lifetimes would I have predicted this is where we’d end up, but now I can’t deny that this was always where we were meant to be. The rhythm of his breathing against my face, when he pulls back, lulls me into a sense of satisfaction. It tells me I’m not the only one suffering here.

“Devonry.” His voice is rough and dark, filled to the brim with torn desire. The sound of fabric tearing makes me jump as I realize his claws have sunk past the folds of my dress and ripped through the sides. Cool air brushes across my hips. Solo doesn’t seem to be aware of it, but he pushes my dress up my legs and thighs. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Why is he sorry? My addled brain is too consumed by him to understand. Too fallen in lust to realize the changes happening. Solomon rears back and just before he strikes, I see it—the face he makes.

Eyes red and full of something more than human, his canines lengthen even more than I thought possible. I don’t hesitate. I turn my cheek and arch my back, ignoring the embarrassment of my bare breasts brushing against his chest once more. I offer my neck and he takes it. Fangs sink deep as he draws my blood inside of him.

Perhaps… I think as my eyes slide shut and those little sparks I felt on my skin earlier sink inside of me, warming me from the inside out. Perhaps, the Gods are not as cruel as I thought… Because in all of my days, I never thought that giving into the man I’ve hated for years could feel so fucking good.

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