Page 104 of The Dragon King
If only I’d found her sooner…
She squeezed my hips with her thighs and dragged her nails down my back. “Talon…”
I could feel her hit the precipice of pleasure then simmer there, slowly building until her desire had nowhere else to go. With watery eyes and nails sharp enough to draw blood, she came around me, her little pussy clenching me with an iron fist.
A wave of heat swept over me and made my spine melt to liquid. The pleasure we experienced together was different from my previous conquests. It was just so damn good, feeding the body as well as the soul. These were the moments that brought me the most joy…and the most pain.
What would she do when I was gone?
Would she be broken the way I was? Searching the world for answers she would never find?
I’d been on the verge of release, but when my mind drifted away, so did my body.
But with white knuckles, she pulled me back. “Come inside me.”
And just like that, I was back as if I’d never left. My forehead rested against hers as I continued to thrust through her slickness. “Here it comes, baby.”
I started the fire in the sitting room and sat in front of it, sipping my scotch in silent misery. This was how I’d spent my nights before Calista and even during the beginning of our relationship, and I fell right back into my old habits.
As a miserable drunk.
The more I let Calista in, the worse I felt. The highs were higher than the sky, and the lows were lower than the dirt that buried the dead. It was an act of torture, to feel so much joy when she looked at me with those green eyes and then to feel so much despair, knowing she wouldn’t be able to look at me for much longer.
“I hope this is all worth it, Talon Rothschild.”
My eyes shifted to the chair beside me.
Bahamut sat there in his midnight-blue armor, with blond hair, looking like a respectable king rather than a monster who devoured souls for sustenance.
“But even if it’s not, it matters not. At least to me.” A slight smirk moved over his lips.
I was more drunk off my misery than the scotch and spoke freely. “What is it about me that fascinates you?” He came to me often, sometimes to discuss matters of import, but most of the time, it was just to taunt me.
“You’re a king.”
“Because you made me one.”
“You’re the heir to the Southern Isles. Your predecessors all contain your blood as well as your honor and integrity. Most of the souls who come to me are those who are forgotten or abandoned. And when a soul is miserable and tainted, it doesn’t taste the same.”
I felt a rush of disgust when I pictured that bowl with my soul within it, ready for the taking.
“My power is fueled by the souls I consume. And the soul of a king…will give me power unlike any other.”
“What do you need power for?”
He stared at me, a slight smirk on his lips.
I knew I would never get an answer.
“You’ll see—once you join me.”
I felt sick again, a taste in my mouth that the scotch couldn’t mask. “There must be something I can do to make you reconsider.”
His smirk remained in place. “The more you try to slip, the harder I grip.”
“My uncle also has the blood of kings.”
“Several times removed. Not interested.”