Bane’s throaty chuckle, more thunder than laughter, sent another thrill of heat through me. My breasts had tightened enough to ache under his touch; the gown I wore was a severe impediment to feeling those warm, deadly hands on my flesh.

This was not a chuckling matter, not in the slightest.

I arched my hips forward, grinding myself against the iron rod between my legs, gasping again against his bloodied lips as pleasure zipped through me—even with these pointless clothes in the way, he was thick enough to ride against, my clit humming with need.

This time he didn’t laugh. He snarled, hands tightening on my hips to jerk me against him, his own hips bucking upwards. He was pulsing, so hard it had to be painful, the tingle in my pussy becoming a hot wave in my core.

“I can’t, Cirri,” he groaned, holding me in place. “I can’t hurt you.”

You won’t hurt me, I told him, panting as I fought off the edge. By the Light, there would be no pain; I was already soaked, writhing with need against him. Didn’t he see that it would hurt more to deny this?

Bane’s bright amber eyes were like a cat’s eyes in the darkness; gleaming and predatory, his hungry gaze wandering from my face to my bloody throat, down further to my pebbled nipples and everything hidden beneath the gown.

He exhaled, hands quivering. In some distant part of my mind I felt his claws and fingertips; they’d cut right through the cloth, shredding the gown. Good riddance to it.

But he made no effort to remove his own clothes. Instead, he gripped me around the waist, nuzzling against my neck, his tongue flicking out before his teeth pierced me again, white-hot and bright pain.

As he drank, he splayed his hand on my lower back and pushed in, forcing me to ride against him.

I couldn’t hold back the breathy gasps and silent moans, the only sounds I could make, as my clit rubbed against him with delicious friction. I gripped one of his twisted horns, giving myself leverage, and dug the nails of my other hand into the velvet skin of his back.

Bane groaned, sucking harder, pulling deeper, the heat of his cock tangible as it twitched under my increasingly erratic thrusts.

His lips came free with a pop, his breath warm on my neck. “Gods, ancestors… fuck.”

Hearing that word snarled in his deep voice as he strained against me was too much. I was already on the edge, the wet lave of his tongue over his bite not just tipping me, but hurling me over into a mind-shattering orgasm.

He held me tight as I shivered, coming to pieces in his arms, gasping against his shoulder. All I could do was hold on as the flood of pleasure tore through me.

As the languor sank into me, my whole body slumping against him while I panted for breath, I still felt the throbbing hardness of him. I wanted to fix that, to give him what he’d given me…

But Bane tipped my head to the side, that forked satin tongue once more swirling over my wounds.

Why? I asked, feeling like bricks were tied to my hands. Everything was so heavy. Why can’t I do this for you? 

Deep inside, buried beneath the venom haze and the soft glow of release, there was a tiny seed of fear… but not for his fangs.

Maybe he didn’t find me sexually appealing. He was free with compliments, and he clearly enjoyed my blood, but maybe it was just a matter of not having had a woman in some time. Maybe any warm body would have this effect on him.

I tried to stomp on the seed, but it refused to die.

Maybe he didn’t want to do this with someone he’d been forced to marry. I was not someone he’d chosen from the heart, but a consolation prize after Antonetta’s death.

Bane held me against him, his palm pressed over my slowing heart.

“I want you more than I can say,” he whispered. “More than you know. But you see that I am not like most men. My entire body is warped.”

I don’t give a damn, I tried to sign, but my hands wavered.

“If you keep doing this, I don’t think I can stop myself.” He let out one of those low laughs, the faintest tinge of bitterness to it. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want to hurt you. This will take time… not only for my own shame, that I’m no longer a man in the sense you understand, but because I don’t want to tear you apart.”

I managed to raise my heavy head from his shoulder, gazing into those brilliant gold eyes. My hand cupped his cheek, though I didn’t remember moving it there.

At least the seed of fear had withered once more.

There’s more than one way to do this, I told him, or tried to tell him. It doesn’t have to hurt. And you should feel no shame. You are what you are, and what you are is beautiful. 

The floating sensation returned as Bane lifted me fully onto the bed, curling around me. His enormous arm encircled me, hand still over my chest.

“Sleep, my lady, precious one.” His deep voice sounded miles distant, echoing over empty lands. “There’s time to worry about this later.”

No, I wanted to say, I want to figure this out now, before you decide you don’t want me, but the haze was too strong. I was floating in warmth, anchored only by Bane.

My mind followed my body into darkness.

I woke slowly, my limbs stretched out and loose, once more well-rested thanks to the venom haze and the release he’d given me.

And Bane was once more absent, the divot in the nest of blankets empty. I stretched out a hand; the linens still had a tinge of warmth. He’d left in the last hour, before the sun rose.

Despite that, I smiled; now I knew that this entire time, he’d been waking up early just to learn the priests’ tongue, for no other reason than to understand me.

For the thousandth time, I asked myself what I’d done to deserve this life, and came up without an answer.

But if he was doing that for me, then I would get on with the work I could do for him.

I dragged myself out of bed and dressed, intending to wash and dress in the Tower of Spring, which I’d hardly seen in the last week except to perform the necessary ablutions. I briefly wondered about asking Bane if I could simply use the bath in this tower, and keep my clothes in the wardrobes here, but… if he wasn’t ready to have actual sex with me, then he likely still wanted his own space. Somewhere to escape me.

Although things usually looked better in daylight, today that fear was harder to crush. Twice now he’d given me physical pleasure and taken none for himself. He could talk of not wanting to hurt me, but still…

I pinned that thought in place for later and fled to the Tower of Spring.

Both of my golems were waiting, Thorn staring out the window, Rose poking about in the dresser. I blinked as I passed; she’d organized the jewelry boxes strewn about the surface, by type and then by stone; who needed six pairs of emerald earrings, or thirty-two jeweled hair sticks?

The rose-petal golem straightened, her arms full of cloth, and immediately pointed to the bath.

If you insist, I told her, depositing my journal on my hardly-used desk. Strangely, perhaps because they weren’t human, it was easier to accept help from her, whether or not it was something I could do myself.

Or perhaps it was because there was no lurking sense of judgment. I knew Ellena would have been furious to have to wash my hair; even though Yuli and Lissa had shown nothing but curiosity, I still didn’t like the idea of them discovering I’d once been an indentured servant myself. It felt too much like placing myself on a pedestal, lording it above them when I had no right.

But Rose… she was effeminate to the core, fascinated by the piles of jewelry, the dresses, the shoes. The first time she’d forced me to bathe under her auspices, it’d been clear she truly enjoyed the entire process, down to picking out soaps and creams that matched in scent.