Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
I knew he would give me everything until his body grew limp—until there was no seed or blood left in him to give. And I would take it all. Pleasure spun itself up once more.
“Poppy,” he rasped.
That name.
Poppy.
Penellaphe.
That…was me. And his name…I knew it, didn’t I? They meant something together. They meant…
No.
My brows furrowed as I slowed against him. Yes. I was Poppy. Penellaphe. Queen. The fog in my mind started to dissipate, allowing bits of coherent thought to surface.
My body locked. I didn’t want to take it all because I…I loved him.
I loved Casteel.
All at once and without warning, I remembered myself.
I jerked back so fast I fell onto my rear. He moved to snag me around the waist. Pressure swelled in my head as I panted for breath. I looked at him, unable to ignore the thick ridge of his arousal straining against his breeches. I forced my gaze upward as I hung half-suspended over the edge of the bed. The skin of his throat was bruised around two puncture wounds that still seeped blood.
My gaze crawled over his features, noting the sharper angles of his cheeks and the tension gathered at his mouth. Shame and still-lingering lust scalded my skin as my gaze fixed on the wound I’d created.
“You haven’t taken nearly enough,” Casteel said, pulling me back against his chest. His hand went to my cheek, and then he was guiding me toward his throat once more. “You need to feed.”
I wanted to tell him that I remembered him. That I remembered us, but all I could force out was, “Cas.”
He froze for a heartbeat and then leaned back. His chest rose sharply, and his eyes widened, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper when he said, “Poppy.”
My lips parted, and a cold chill slithered through me as the pain ramped up in my head. I wanted to tell him there was something wrong with me, but the coldness invading me was spreading. The crimson haze returned, clouding my thoughts and edging out reason.
“Poppy,” he breathed, curling his fingers into my hair. “Do you—?”
My head snapped down. I sank my fangs into the flesh above the first wound. A hiss escaped him as I gripped the back of his neck. I drank deeply, pulling hard as my heart pounded.
Pain pricked at my senses, burning hot. It wasn’t mine. It was his. I was causing…
Keep taking.
His voice was strained when he spoke again. “I need you to release your fangs.”
I drank, mindlessly obeying the cold, dark need growing within me that spoke to the part of me that was the shadows in my blood, commanding me to keep feeding, to keep taking until I felt his heartbeat slow and flutter.
Until it ceased beating.
No, I didn’t want that.
I needed to stop, but I couldn’t. Oh, gods, I couldn’t stop.
Panic surged, scattering my thoughts into a chaotic frenzy. My eyes snapped open. The blood-red haze wrapped in shadows had followed me into the chamber, rippling across the bed behind us and rising like vicious swords. A smell flowed around us, overpowering the scents of pine, spice, and fresh citrus in the snow.
I knew that smell.
Lilacs.
Stale lilacs.
Death.
His voice was in my ear, sounding strained and distant. The hand buried in my hair trembled and then firmed. My grip on his neck tightened.
Just a little bit more. I just needed to keep taking until his body turned as cold as mine. Until I ended him. Death was in my blood, I was meant to do this, it was a part of my nature—
Tension seized my muscles as my thoughts echoed back to me. That…that didn’t feel right. Death wasn’t in my nature.
My attention shifted to the hand wrapped around the back of his neck. At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Shadows tinged in silver and gold swirled beneath my skin. My gaze followed the display of eather beneath my flesh and the wispy tendrils of essence seeping from my fingers into the air.
I squeezed my eyes shut as his hand slid to my cheek. His fingers pressed in firmly, attempting to unlock my jaw.
A loud crash shattered the silence of the chamber. His fingers dropped from my cheeks. “What…fuck?” he growled, his voice fading in and out as I remained latched to his throat.
Something hard and rough clamped down on my shoulder, and a sound rumbled from my chest in warning.
“Get your hand off her,” Casteel warned. “Now.”
A heartbeat later, my fangs ripped through his flesh as someone yanked me backward. There was resistance as Casteel still held on to me, refusing to let go even though he’d held death in his embrace. But he was either weakened just enough that he couldn’t hold on, or the pain of his flesh tearing had momentarily stunned him. I lost my grip on him. Maybe because I hadn’t taken nearly enough blood.