“Tell me about your past, before the rift closed.”
Draven’s heart skipped a panicked beat. He kept himself perfectly still so she wouldn’t know how shocked he was.
“I’d rather not,” he finally said. She lost her smile but hope was still in her eyes.
“Oh, please. I only know so much. I would offer to share mine as well but it’s more boring than watching a snail walk.”
Draven laughed, the action surprising him just as much as it did for Lucinda judging from her expression.
“I’m sure there isn’t anything interesting to tell.” Pain, humiliation, a world filled with so much prejudice and discrimination that he’d chosen to forego his family for a life in the Atal Warriors, fighting against those just like him, and others much worse.
“Well you’re only half-vampire. You can start with that.” The refusal was already on his tongue, but then he looked into her soft, beseeching eyes and was helpless.
Draven’s mind struggled to think where to start. How it all began, how to describe what she wanted in a way that wouldn’t send her running out of the room, or worse, crying. But then she scooted across the floor until she was in front of him. He tensed, unsure where this was going. Her look was sly, and so Goddamn sexy his cock throbbed as she put a hand on each of his knees and pushed them open.
He could have fought it easily; she was no match for his strength. But he was a glutton for punishment and let her spread his thighs wide open. Images that would make her blush rushed through his mind. If only she knew what she did to him, what she’d always done to him, since the first moment she entered Tyrian’s castle. That’s why he’d always kept away, she belonged to someone else. Now she was all his. Then why couldn’t he jump at her like he wanted? Why was he being such a damned coward?
His chest tightened as if a heavy weight sat upon it. His mind flashed with options. Would she peel down the shoulders of that dress and bare her full breasts to him? Or maybe she’d reach and pull out his cock. She kissed so innocently, though her skill had grown quickly the other night. He knew her mouth was untrained too. God, how painful that would be. She’d torture his cock with little soft kisses and licks, never swallowing him whole like he wanted. It would still be good, hell, maybe even better, but it’d kill him nonetheless.
She had his knees open, her hands gently pressing against his knees. “Well are you going to tell me?”
He cocked a brow at her as he looked from her hands to her face. Just what was she up to?
“I was born before the rift was ever closed. When those like me crossed into this realm freely.” She nodded, her head cocked to the side as she listened. The muscles in his thighs bunched hard as her thumbs started to slowly rub back and forth. It took some concentration but he slowly relaxed his muscles. She wasn’t doing anything.
“The idummi and jaheera demons like the one after Chloe and Willow were a different thing entirely. There are layers in the rift that can only be passed in specific ways. We never crossed into theirs and for the most part they never bothered us.”
“What do you mean for the most part?” Draven closed his eyes; his head felt heavy like it wanted to fall back and simply enjoy her soft touch.
“Sometimes the idummi would come through our layer, kill people, stuff like that. Sometimes it would cause wars, other times we’d bury the dead and deal with it.”
“And what sort of demon are you?”
Draven shook his head to clear it. It had to be his imagination that made her sound husky when she asked that.
“We call ourselves shahoulin. It means justice bringers. It couldn’t be more of a lie.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but her eyes widened in question.
“Oh?” Her thumbs continued their soft, lazy torture on his legs. She had no idea how much of a tease it was.
“The shahoulin are mostly bigots. Divided into two castes, the royalty and the non-royalty.” He stopped himself from saying more, unsure how much to tell her.
“Which are you?” Her hands moved up his legs, barely a few inches but he tensed anyways.
“Non.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.
“Oh?” she said sweetly. “So how did you turn out half-vampire in a world of shahoulin demons?” Her thumbs started moving again, this time dipping deeper between his inner thighs.
“Before the rift,” he stopped and cleared the hoarseness from his voice, “my mother was living on the earthen-realm in Italy. She was in love with a human male. I think she might have married him even, I don’t remember. Her family scorned her for it. Marrying a human to them was worse than if she’d chosen a disgusting idummi.
“She was attacked by a vampire. Supposedly it was over a bad business deal between her human lover and the vampire. The vampire was old and liked to deal with matters in the old way.”
Lucinda stilled her hands. “He raped her?”
A nod. “Or so the story goes. My mother never would speak of it to me. To this day, I’m still not sure. Maybe he was actually just another lover and she played up the other story for fun. Mother always did have a rebellious streak in her. She loved defying her parents and the community. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was fucking every man she came into contact with.”
She started rubbing his thighs again, this time with her whole hand. Instead of making him tense this time, her touch soothed him. He relaxed in his chair, his legs falling open even more.
She didn’t have to ask because he found the words coming to him. “When the war began, everyone was shocked. They wanted to seal us under the rift, never allow us above. It was unheard of. No one knew what to do, but they knew they’d fight to keep that right. They lost.”
“You fought with the Atal Warriors?” she inquired softly.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did. If I had a choice between living down there as a half-breed and living up here working for the group who closed us off. Well, you’ve seen my decision.”
“It was that bad for you?”
“Being raised as a half-breed? I was more than filth. I was as bad as the idummi. Mother used to parade me around as if she was proud of the monster she’d made; I knew she was just doing it to get a rise out of people.”
“I’m sure she loved you.”
He laughed, the sound bitter and angry. “Yeah, don’t think so. The only time she showed any sign that she cared for me was when she was trying to show me off. She bragged about the human and vampire lovers she’d taken as if it were some great feat. My people loathed the thought of breeding with outsiders. What she did was unforgiveable in their eyes.”
Draven could still picture his mother. It didn’t take much thought. Negative memories were always the easiest to remember. She had light blond hair, which he’d taken after and dark blue eyes framed by black lashes. The men couldn’t stay away from her. It didn’t help that she encouraged the attention. She always wore gold, always. Dresses that left nothing to the imagination. Cynically Draven realized that if not for her blatant flaunting she might have had them kicked out of the rift before the war. Even the royal council members were enthralled with her. Her promiscuity probably saved them.
“Whatever happened to her?”
Now this was something he didn’t like to think about. Draven looked down at the witch kneeling between his thighs. Her question was innocent, like everything was about her. She had no idea that he hadn’t spoken about his mother since the day he came into Tyrian en Kulev’s guard for the Atal Warriors.
Finally he just shook his head. A gentle smile curled her lips and she scooted forward. Draven’s reaction was as natural as breathing; he pushed himself as deep into the chair as possible. Her hands scoured up this thigh then stopped in the middle. She rubbed him in deep, massaging touches that had his cock stiffly swelling.