THESE CELESTIAL BODIES (Demetre)

Chapter twelve

"Come back to bed, love." A chocolate smooth voice teased within an assortment of scarlet linen and plush pillows. An arm dangling lazy off the edge of the bed, clever fingers reaching for their match. But Cato had already slipped out of the bed and begun dressing, ignoring the hungry stare of his bed slave as she gobbled him up—her heart (and lady parts) throbbing at the sight of him. While many Vampyrs were portraits of immense masterpieces, Cato was the finest Servitor of them all. High cheek bones and finely carved jaw, his pale skin shining like he had swallowed moonlight—his chocolate hair looked almost black in some glances.
     Again his bed slave unleashed an irritated sigh, tired of trying to bring him back to bed. It was a constant cycle with Cato, he would ravish her every night but as soon as the sunless morning came he barely even looked at her let alone tried to bed her again.
     "Where are you going?"
     "Ardian castle," he said casually.
"Whatever for?"
     "Astaroth wants me to deliver a message to the flesh eater king."

She cast him a dark glare, her stare seemingly darker than the writhing shadows around them. "How convenient," venom on her tongue. She tossed a lock of moon white hair off her shoulder and gathered up the blankets as she stood. "That the human you claimed just happens to be in the possession of Lord Demetre and Astaroth has ordered you to go to him and you are in such a rush to tend to Ashtaroth's wishes."
     Pausing, Cato looked to where she stood. His eyes piercing through her entirety. Under his imperious gaze, his bed slave tried her best to retain her death like stare. His eyes fell over her shoulder, to the door beyond. Wordlessly, he swept past and snatched his white shirt from where he had discarded it on the floor and strode right past in nothing but his britches. "I want you out by the time I get back."

" Am I right," she whirled, feeling her throat get a little dry. "Am I right that you have grown to care for her."
He slammed the door so hard the shadows in the room recoiled.

~

He hadn't bedded anyone in months, the last woman he took to his chambers was incinerated and he knew exactly who did it. But the woman was a human slave, and no one even batted an eyelid to her death. During said months it had been his hand wrapped around his manhood. But last night with Kara had been...shit it was out of this world. He had forced her jaw wide and opened her mouth and watched his seed fill her rosy cheeks. But after, it was not Kara he imagined but Rose. He didn't imagine fucking her to until morning like he did Kara, he didn't imagine touching her at all. Though he couldn't deny certain areas of his body were itching to feel the heat of her skin.
     No with Rose it was different.
     With Kara braced over the troughs and valleys of his chest, he imagined Rose sprawled in his embrace in her stead as though that was where she was meant to be, where she will always be, where he wanted her to be. His fingers tangled in the soft curls of her hair as she slept soundly, comfortable to simply just be. And he imagined that when she woke, when those amber eyes that looked like puddles of honey met his, she would smile at him and greet him with a kiss. There would be no fear in her eyes, she would see him as himself—a monster, a king, a beast—and want him close anyway. When he looked at her it felt like he could hardly breathe but at the same time she was the air in which he needed. She was on the edge of disaster, a flower amidst an earth quake—beautiful, disastrous, tragic.