Hisshellanwas right above, he reflected as he swallowed and swallowed.
His beloved was directly above him, a loose silken gown covering her body as she reclined against the softest pillows and her cloud-like bedding platform.
Anxiety curdled in his gut, souring the sherry’s warm glow.
They had lain together but three times in the last year, the first being on the night of their mating ceremony. That initial interlude had been an awkward, fumbling affair, him taking her virginity as he had lost his own, her bearing him atop her as a duty she would not shirk. Afterward, as she had sat down gingerly at First Meal hours later, he had worried he had hurt her, but hadn’t known how to ask a relative stranger about something so personal.
After that, he had vowed to woo her properly. Though it was his right as herhellrento demand of her his pleasure whenever he was so inclined, he wanted her a willing participant, and so he had set about getting to know her and showing her how cherished she was. With jewels and flowers, moonlit walks about the grounds, and all manner of judicious touches of the hand or shoulder, he had nurtured a connection.
And then he had tried once more. The second time he had attempted to lie with her, she had disrobed as if she were shedding her own skin, and she had laid herself out on her bed with the kind of forbearance one would expectfor a healer’s examination of a boil. No matter how tempting her bare breasts had been, he hadn’t been able to sustain his hardness.
Some months thereafter, upon a final venture, he had tried to coax an arousal from her, seeking her out in the dead of daylight, taking his time, being gentle with her body. She had stopped him and insisted on intercourse. His sex had somehow retained its state, even as she had pulled him on top of her and roughly guided him in; yet he had felt a hollow sadness whilst she had born his release with a stoic resignation.
Subsequently, when she had taken great pains to assure him that she would e’er do her mated duty whenever he wished, he had felt a shame that had soured his blood. That she had carved him to his soul with her soft and sincere words was something he had kept hidden from her.
But she loved him. He never doubted that. She was incredibly attentive, and endearing, and the very best mate ahellrencould ask for. Over time, the sexual relationship would grow. In this, he was certain. She had been asehcludedfemale until hermahmenhad given her over to Kane, a precious commodity presented in full purity to a loving steward who vowed to continue to protect and cloister her. He must make allowances for her inhibitions.
He’d just assumed they would have more time before they had to ease her otherwise intolerable cravings with the sexual act. But she knew that when her needing arrived, there would be… intimacy… to both keep her comfortable and conceive that which they both wanted—
A sound outside drew his eyes to one of the windows.
With the lanterns glowing in the study, there was naught to be seen out in the walled garden, and yet he stared into the nocturnal void.
When there was no repeat of the noise, he shook his head and poured himself a second serving of sherry. Then he turned about and walked toward his desk, though he did not know what he hoped to accomplish there.
Halfway across the study, his body wobbled, his balance listing as if he were in a wind. Immediately, his eyes shot to the ceiling. With a buffering going through his veins, and a strange pall coming over him, surely this meant the time had arrived—
His legs went loose, the fine carpet with its jewel-like colors rushing up to greet him. The impact was hard, yet curiously, he felt naught whilst the glass spilled its contents and his pipe bounced away from his grip.
Opening his mouth, he drew in a deep breath that felt all wrong. Something was impeding his respiration—
A scent registered.
And then he saw the boots… black boots entered his vision.
With his consciousness ebbing, the last thing he noticed was the fresh mud curling around the soles and the heels, as if whoever was wearing them had trampled through the flower beds…
Kane came back into his awareness on a full-body jerk, as if every vital part of himself awakened and gasped at the same moment. Disoriented, with his temples pounding, and his thoughts sluggish and confused, he tried to piece together what had—
Blood.
The smell of blood was overwhelming.
As panic enlivened him, he lifted his heavy head. Though his blurred eyes provided him with little detail, he knew where he was. He was in the flower-draped enclave of hisshellan’s private quarters. And the blood was hers.
“Cordelhia…?”
Fear gave him strength to push past the logy fog and focus his eyes…
“Cordelhia!”
Hisshellanwas lying across her bed, her bare arm hanging loosely off the soft mattress and monogrammed sheets, a river of blood running down the inside of her elbow and her wrist… before pooling in her upturned palm and dripping off the tips of her fingers.
On a wave of horror, Kane attempted desperately to propel himself up from the floor, to go unto her, to try to revive her with his voice, his touch, his vein. His body refused all call to movement, however, only his head bobbing up and down—
A scream shattered the silence.
In the doorway, hisshellan’smahmenstood in all her finery, her formal dress still complemented by her matching silk-and-fur overcoat because there had been no staff to remove it from her shoulders.