Page 24 of Blackthorn
“Never. I pay my debts.” She tilted her face up, offering herself to him.
He seized that stubborn chin, holding it in place as he lowered his lips to hers.
The kiss was not gentle. His fangs scraped against her tender flesh. She gasped, opening for him. He took that as an invitation and entered, deepening the kiss until she melted, leaning forward like she wanted to wrap her body around his. She was sweet to the taste, tender to the touch, and absolutely delicious.
Attraction would be no problem.
He pulled back, fingers brushing along her jaw, and retreated a step. He said, “I have told you what I want from this arrangement. Tell me what you want.”
His previous brides wanted basic necessities: regular food, shelter, and protection. They had been pleased by the simple luxuries of scented soaps, fine clothing, and soft bedding. He sensed that Charlotte cared not for those things.
“Are you the original Lord Draven?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“The one and only.”
“I want information,” she said. “I’ll give you my nights. I’ll give you my body, but I want you to answer questions.”
“About what, specifically?”
“Well, everything. About Earth. Your condition. Your experiences. What it was like arriving on the planet. I want to know about the original settlers. Did you know Captain Beckford? Radcliffe the Butcher? Everything.”
“Only everything,” he said, his tone cool. “I don’t think anyone knew Radcliffe.”
Her entire body perked up with interest. “But you knew Captain Beckford?”
What she asked for was too much. Too dangerous. But what could he do? Perhaps if he fed her bits and pieces, that would be enough to satisfy her curiosity and keep her safe. “Very well, but you must abide by my only rule. Do not enter the restricted levels. You have free rein of the Aerie: the library, the greenhouses, the storerooms, and so on. Whatever you desire, ask and it will be delivered. But do not, under any circumstance, enter the restricted levels.”
Perhaps it was the candlelight reflecting on her glasses or the spark of curiosity in her eyes, but they glowed with excitement. She was too inquisitive to let a forbidden area go unexplored.
“I agree,” she said in a breathless voice.
He knew that was a lie.
Anger came over him like a veil of red fury. He grabbed her by the arm, knocking the chair over as he lifted her and pushed her to the wall. He had her throat in his grip. Her pulse raced and he wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her.
“You have told me nothing but half-truths tonight,” he growled. “That ends now. I will not tolerate lies.”
She opened her mouth to argue or agree—did it matter?—but only emitted a squeak. A fury to match his own flashed in her eyes, then vanished. Such a proper lady, stamping down on her emotions and remaining calm in the face of his monstrosity.
“You will not go to the restricted areas. Swear it.” He relaxed his hold enough for her to speak.
“I swear,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He released his grasp on her throat but stepped back, once more in control. “That will have to do. Tomorrow we marry.”
Chapter Six
Charlotte
The Aerie
Chapel Anteroom
Charlotte should be nervous. Brides were always nervous on their wedding day.
She had been a jittery bundle of nerves on her first wedding day. Every little detail seemed so important at the time. Now it was laughable. It had rained. Disaster. The flowers were wilted. Ruined. The candles were tallow, not beeswax, and left smoke in the air. How could she show her face in public again? How indeed, considering that her first wedding day ended in blood.
Well, perhaps nervous was the reasonable response.