Lucian

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Exhausted and resigned, I didn't plead for mercy or tried to reason with him anymore. I just shivered in his lap, waiting for it to be over. His lips hovered above my neck for what felt like an eternity. Those sharp fangs were pressed against my skin, ready to sink deep into my flesh. But for some reason, the prince hesitated, almost like he couldn't bring himself to do it. I knew that was an impossible, foolish thought. He was probably doing it to prolong the torture. With every second that passed in this hellish limbo, I became more and more nervous. The last bits of my self-control dissipated when he buried his nose in my hair and inhaled its scent as his hand slowly closed around my throat to keep me firmly in place. The anticipation became unbearable and a small, helpless cry burst out of my mouth.

"Goddammit!" he swore in palpable frustration and lifted his head with incredible speed.

Before I could make light of his intentions, his lips were assailing mine, his expert tongue probing for entrance. The kiss was so much more intimate and powerful than the one he'd given me during our trip. The instant his tongue began massaging mine, a pool of warmth exploded in my lower abdomen and every last coherent thought evaporated from my brain. For one single heartbeat, I felt like I wasn't trapped in the embrace of a sadistic monster. But the feeling didn't last for long. As soon as he broke the kiss, the terror and insecurity returned, this time accompanied by a deep sense of guilt because I'd given in to him so easily.

My heart hammered against my ribcage as I gazed at him, utterly speechless and completely out of breath. And what was even more peculiar, he seemed just as taken aback as me, but his baffled grimace faded away in a split second and his features settled right back into that cold, unreadable expression.

"You get one night, human," he murmured in an unsteady tone, his hypnotizing grey eyes boring into mine. "One night without pain, tears, and blood. One night to sort out whatever fucking mess is happening in your head. Savor it and try really hard not to provoke me because I could change my mind at any given moment."

Taken aback by his confusing demeanor, I let out a shallow gasp and expressed my appreciation for his unexpected gesture, praying it would be enough to pacify his unpredictable temper. "Thank you, Master."

For a few breathless heartbeats, he merely stared at me, as though lost in thought, as though contemplating something horrible. Then, he exhaled a long, deep breath and ran his thumb along my lips that were still swollen from his kiss.

"I think it's time for you to go to bed," he whispered and suddenly lifted me off his lap. With his hands closed around my hips, he slowly stood up and steadied me against himself.

Trapped in his embrace, I looked up at him out of sheer reflex, once again deeply disturbed by the possibility he was merely toying with me.

"Don't look at me like that, little mouse," he instructed in a voice that sounded almost gentle and gestured toward the other end of the room. "Come. Don't waste my time. Do as you're told and we just might make it through this night without any further incidents."

Left with no other choice, I followed his lead, still convinced this was just another one of his mind games. As I ambled next to him, I couldn't help thinking he was like a cunning cat that played with its small helpless prey, giving it a sense of repeated false hope, until it finally grew bored and struck a fatal blow.

We strolled past his humongous bed and it was only then I noticed an old dirty mattress that lay on the ground a couple of feet further, in the dark, shadowed corner.  The prince paused in front of it and my eyes froze on the small, stained pillow and a thin, worn-out sheet with a couple of holes in it. 

"This is where you'll sleep," he informed and inspected the perplexed expression on my face. "What is the matter, little slave? Is the accommodation not to your liking? Perhaps you'd rather share my bed?"