He leaned yet closer, arms taking his weight, muscles barely flexing under the strain. I reluctantly closed my eyes as his lips inched closer, the cool of his torso the opposite of my flushed, heated chest, rapidly rising and frustrated with the composure of his breaths, neither shallow nor ragged any more. Suddenly, in one swift motion he had grabbed both of my wrists in one of his hands and twisted them painfully above my head, pinned to the wall. I let out a faint whimper; but that was muffled as his lips, briefly, teasingly, brushed my own, and I felt sure he would be able to feel me melt and remould beneath him.
His kisses continued along my cheeks and my jaw until his fangs found my ear, nipping gently.
‘But I already have you,’ he murmured. I considered nodding, but that wasn’t right either. He grabbed the belt of my jeans, roughly pulling me into him. I opened my eyes in surprise, but he just tugged me closer, his arm so close to my head I would curl into it if I had the nerve, but his eyes burnt ‘move and this is over’. Without shifting his gaze he reached down for my top, seizing it and pulling.
I knew I would soon lose it, but there was no mercy in those eyes as he gathered the material high enough to reveal my bra, the long scars disappearing beneath the material. Not breaking his hold of me, he reached for my br**sts, cupping and engulfing one in his hands.
A curse tripped to my lips and I remembered I should breathe, but it was futile, pointless, and I stopped bothering completely as I tried to tell him to be gentler, but it only came out as a pined moan, his forefinger beginning to drag my bra aside, grazing my nipple.
His eyes never left mine as I fought to keep them open, his sadistic smirk enjoying the sight of the inner conflict which I knew was painting itself on my face: doubt, mixed with want.
‘Oh my, what – I – please forgive the intrusion, Your Highness!’
My eyes sprung open. There, open-mouthed at the tiny entrance to a servant corridor beneath the staircase was Annie, the maid. Her eyes were fixed on me, pinned to the wall by my wrists, his hand unmoved from my breast. I flushed deepest red, and went to pull his arm away but he held fast. Without turning to her he half-spat at her to leave, to which she quickly curtsied, never taking her eyes off us.
‘Your Highness. Miss Lee.’
‘For God’s sake, just go!’ he snapped, his teeth grinding together in a grimace of impatience as I watched her back away, trying to plead an apology to her with my eyes. Her expression of utter disgust did not change.
‘It’s ridiculous. Can’t I get any privacy around here?’ he growled, and with a flick of his wrist, my hand was in his and he was leading me towards the stairs.
It seemed an age since I had been in Kaspar’s room. It still sent the same sensations creeping across my skin, not overshadowed by my growing need or anxiety. But the eagerness and zeal I possessed earlier had gone, and gone far.
He let me wander into the room ahead of him, allowing me to take everything in. The bed, dark and imposing, loomed in the centre of the room and I had the sudden urge to avoid it – instead I skirted around, aware of the muffled silence of my footsteps on the once-plush, now faded, rug, and the contrast as I stepped onto the wooden floor. It was cold too, really cold, and the difference was extreme, like when you step from a hot bath onto a tiled floor. It hit me in one great wave, moving from my toes up, and I had the sudden chaotic thought that I might turn blue. I wanted to laugh at that crazed moment, but I still had not claimed my breath back from Kaspar. Instead, I shook it off and wrapped my arms around my middle, half from the chill, and half from the fear.
The little light that lit the room came from the moon, a day or two from full as it shone through the French doors, flung open to reveal the balcony. Like a moth to a lamp I was drawn to it, watching my shadow grow in the small rectangle of light. A gentle wind stirred the tethered drapes and I inhaled it gratefully – the room was bitter with the scent of heavy, rich colognes that burnt my throat and the musk of old, ageing wood.
I shivered. The view was magnificent over the gently sloping lawns and trees of the estate, but I had little reason to admire it, especially as I startled at the sound of a lock clicking. Clicking shut. I whirled away from the grounds.
He was resting against the door, one hand holding a small silver key. He raised it in his hand and it disappeared beneath his palm as he clenched his fingers. ‘I’m not going to let you say no this time, Girly.’ With that, he threw it straight outside.
It flew past, whizzing, sending a jab of exhilarated fear into my chest and as I heard it drop on the gravel beneath the balcony, I wondered just what monster I had unleashed, and what monster I was now locked in a room with. And what monster, frankly, I was about to shag.
I met his eyes; mine were wide from shock and a strange alien thrill. He chuckled, his eyes shining in the gloom, warring between emerald and red, beckoning me closer. I could not move. Instead he came to me, prising my arms apart as I tried to wet my lips. He didn’t give me the chance. He reached for my T-shirt and tore it off, his lips crushing against mine in a deep, long, passionate kiss that left me greedy as he stepped back, his gaze sinking past my br**sts, the flimsy bra and my now-bare stomach, to his next prize.
His hands went straight for my jeans – he growled something about the inconvenience of women’s clothes – and I automatically kicked off my little ankle boots, knowing there was little else I could do, especially when he slapped my hands back as I tried to undo his shirt. All I could do was stand there, ragdoll, as he undressed me with unsuppressed desire and thirst, like a child ripping the packaging off a present at Christmas.
‘Damn, you’re beautiful, Girly.’
He stepped back and I flinched, surprised at such unwilling and impulsive praise. My eyes hit the floor, embarrassed at standing there in nothing more than my underwear – God, why didn’t I wear matching? – whilst he remained fully clothed. I shivered, wrapping my hand around my neck and covered the hideous scars Ilta had given me not so long ago.
If the King hadn’t forbidden you to touch, you wouldn’t want this; you know that, don’t you? my voice hissed, emerging from behind my previous thought. But you’re curious about his true touch, aren’t you, Violet?
I ignored it.
He stepped forward once more, brushing my arm aside and beginning to suck gently on my neck, never piercing the skin. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer as I got greedier and greedier, needing his touch. He complied, one hand creeping under the wire of my bra, his fangs tugging on my skin. He clutched at my breast, his cold hands only heightening every sense as I pressed my chest into his waiting hand, arching my neck, exposing my vein …