I cried out as he lifted his head. His glossy lips were parted, his fingers still buried inside me, moving slowly.

“When I was talking about tasting you,” he said, “it wasn’t just your pussy.”

I jerked. “W-what?”

His head snapped down. The graze of his fangs was an icy-hot fire and then he struck, sinking into the skin just above the sensitive joining of nerves. The shock of the bite dragged a scream from me. Pain-tinged waves of pleasure swept over me. My legs stiffened. My hips tried to lift, but he held me there, his fingers plunging in and out of me, his mouth moving over my clit, sucking on the nub of flesh—sucking on the blood running from the punctures above. The sensation…

“It’s too much,” I gasped, my hands slipping on the ledge. I squirmed desperately, pressing my knees into his shoulders, wanting to move away. Needing to be closer. “I—I can’t take it. Please, Ash—”

His growl rumbled through me, in me. He sucked harder, deeper, and the coils spun and spun. A quake hit me. I gripped a fistful of hair. I was coming apart.

Pleasure took me, and I fell into it without hesitation, shamelessly. I broke, shattering into silk-adorned shards of bliss. My entire body shook, the release leaving me limp as my hand slipped from his hair. If it had not been for Nyktos’s hold on me, I surely would’ve fallen.

I moaned as he tugged on my skin one last time—one last pull of my blood as he eased his fingers from me. The warm, wet slide of his tongue along the very center of me and then over his bite was bliss. I shuddered, nearly going limp.

He lifted his head, gently easing my legs into the water. Stunning wisps of essence swirled in his eyes. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and I closed my eyes before I saw any hint of the regret that was sure to form in his features. That might make me a coward, but what I’d just experienced had been wonderful. And at no point during any of that did I think about anything other than how I felt and how I was making Nyktos feel. I had just been myself. Not the Consort. Not an assassin or a weapon. Not a monster.

And I didn’t want anything to ruin that.

Not when his hands were still on me, the feel of his skin a little less cool and welcome against my hips.

“Stay here,” Nyktos said roughly, the water splashing as he rose. “Please.”

I nodded, palms braced against the ledge of the tub. He stepped out of the water. There were sounds of him undressing, of wet, heavy clothing hitting the floor. I still couldn’t believe that he’d climbed into the tub fully dressed. A tired smile tugged at my lips.

“Beautiful,” Nyktos murmured.

“What?” My eyes opened as I lifted my head. He stood by the tub, a towel knotted around his waist.

“You. Your smile,” he said. “You’re beautiful, Sera.”

Cheeks warming, I opened my mouth but couldn’t find words as he turned, reaching for another towel. It was then that I realized I’d called him Ash.

Oh, gods.

He returned to the side of the tub, his lashes lowered, but I could feel his gaze on me—on my face. Was he counting the freckles to see if they’d changed? Then his stare moved to the swells of my breasts, the curve of my hips. “Stand?”

Hoping my legs wouldn’t fail me, I did as he asked, facing the small window across from the tub. From behind, he wrapped me in the fluffy, soft towel, arms and all. Before I could thank him, he lifted me from the tub into his arms and against his chest.

Shock hit me in waves, nearly as powerful as the release had been. The show of strength was quickly lost in the act itself. I was stunned into complete silence as he carried me from the bathing chamber and to his bed. He laid me down in the center, my hair no longer soaked but still thoroughly wet. He shucked off the towel at his waist, and I caught a glimpse of the ink along the inside of his lean hips and his semi-hard arousal before he too climbed into the bed beside me.

I lay there in my towel cocoon, covered from my shoulders to my thighs, utterly confused. It wasn’t nighttime when he kept me within arm’s reach. This was different. Yes, we had enjoyed each other. Sure, frustration and maybe a little anger had spawned it, but there had been no pretense. What we had shared wasn’t a consequence of desire-fueled feeding, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think it meant that the past or the future had suddenly changed. Nyktos wanted me then and now, that much was clear.

But what wasn’t clear was this.

Just like it hadn’t been clear when we’d had sex before and he’d wanted me to stay in his bed. Did he think it had to be this way after? Nyktos was a…a quick learner, naturally following what his body liked and paying attention to how I responded to what he did, but he had been a virgin. His experience was limited here. Hell, my experience was limited to getting off and getting going, but I knew enough to know that when he brought me to his bed at night, it was different than this.

“You’re quiet,” Nyktos said. I peeked over at him. He lay on his back, nude as the day he was born, an arm thrust behind his head and the other on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. “You’re never quiet.”

A short laugh left me as my gaze shifted to the ceiling. “I know an entire kingdom that would disagree with that.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so it took a couple of moments. “As your Consort, I was not to be known by most.”

There was a beat of silence. “What does that mean?”

“It’s like with the Chosen, but even more. I…I don’t know how to explain it other than to say that I…I didn’t exist.”

“You existed.”

“I didn’t, though,” I told him, not able to blame this bit of honesty on whiskey like I had when I’d spoken about Tavius. Maybe this time, it was the orgasm. “I was shrouded like the Chosen, and that was what most assumed I was, but I was sure people questioned it because I wasn’t at the Temples like the other Chosen. Either way, the same rules applied to me when I was veiled. But even after you didn’t take me, and I no longer wore the veil, it remained the same. The people of Lasania didn’t even know that I was the true heir to the throne. They didn’t know that Princess Seraphena even existed. And the few who did, like the older servants who worked in Wayfair and had to suspect who I was? They never acknowledged it. Or me. I was a ghost.”

Nyktos said nothing, but I felt his gaze on me.

Like before, I didn’t look at him. But I couldn’t deal with the silence that fell between us, which was highly ironic given the topic. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I’m actually used to being quiet.”

“But not with me.”

“That’s because you usually annoy me,” I stated dryly, and his answering chuckle warmed my skin. There was that strange, pleasant sensation in my chest again, and that was…well, it could be concerning. “And because seducing you required me to actually speak, unless that’s not what you liked. Then I would’ve been silent.” The moment those words left my mouth, I cringed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Several moments passed. “You would’ve become whatever you believed I wanted?”

Closing my eyes, I pictured punching myself in the face. Hard. Repeatedly. I didn’t even know why I’d brought that up when I wanted nothing more than to forget it.

“Sera?”

I swallowed. “I would have.”

He shifted, drawing up a leg. “You talked before you realized I was the Primal of Death. You were never quiet then.”

“Like I told you, you annoyed me,” I said instead of what had immediately popped into my head. That it was because of how I’d felt heard and seen when I was with him. Respected. Counted. Opening my eyes, I finally turned my head to him. There was an ease about him and the lines of his features. Our eyes met. Words swelled in my throat. Ones best not given life. “I should get going. I’m sure you have—”