Chapter 12: The Taste of Truth
The door to Tomas's bedchamber swung open without a knock. Bianca stepped inside and found him propped against the headboard, shirtless, a leather-bound book open in one hand. His chest was a pale expanse of scarred marble, the lamplight carving shadows across the hard planes of his torso. At the corner of his mouth, a thin smear of blood glistened, still wet.
He looked up as she entered, closing the book slowly. His dark eyes traveled the length of her, taking in the charcoal wool coat she still wore, the silk camisole beneath, the tailored trousers wrinkled from the hours she'd spent in the study. He didn't seem to mind. If anything, the sight of her rumpled and weary only sharpened the predatory focus of his gaze.
"Husband," she said.
"Beloved." He set the book aside. "I have interesting news to tell you about your dear second in command, but I will shower first."
"No need." He crooked a finger at her, the gesture absolute in its command. "Come to bed. Let me taste the day on you while you inform me."
She arched an eyebrow. "You are insatiable."
"It is a trait of my kind." A faint smile curved his mouth, the dried blood catching the light. "Now come here."
She crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate, her heels silent on the thick carpet. Tomas watched her the way a predator watches prey, but there was hunger in it now, not threat. When she reached the edge of the bed, he reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her down onto the silk sheets beside him. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, turning her onto her back and settling over her, his weight a welcome pressure.
Bianca looked up at him and reached out, wiping the smear of blood from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. She brought it to her lips and tasted it, copper and salt and something older, deeper.
"You had dinner without me."
"Barely." His voice dropped to a rumble as his hand slid down her body, fingers working the button of her trousers open. "My real meal is right here."
He slipped his hand into the front of her pants, his fingers finding her clit already throbbing. Bianca's breath caught as he began to circle it with deliberate slowness, his dark eyes fixed on her face.
"Go on," he murmured. "Tell me what our captive said. I'm sure it was entertaining."
She tried to speak, but his thumb pressed harder, and the words came out on a shuddering exhale. "He... he admitted everything. The plan was never to have you kill me."
"Mm." His finger slid lower, teasing her entrance, and she gasped. "Go on."
"He wanted to kill you himself." She fought to keep her voice steady as his finger pushed inside her, curling against the spot that made her see stars. "Take your empire. Take me. Use me as his consort and your death as his claim to the coast."
"Hm. So that was his real plan all along. How foolish." Tomas slipped a second finger inside her, his eyes watching her struggle to speak as he doubled his efforts. The heel of his hand ground against her clit with each thrust of his fingers.
"Yes. Fuck. Yes." She arched into his hand, her hands fisting in the silk sheets. "You really need a better lieutenant."
"Do I? Well, lucky for you I have a spot open up. Would you like to fill it?"
The words barely registered through the haze of pleasure building in her core. His fingers were relentless, curling and stroking, his thumb pressing circles against her clit that made her hips buck against his hand. The bond between them blazed, his hunger and satisfaction pouring through her veins like molten gold.
"I come second to no one," she managed, the words a breathless defiance.
"Yes." His voice was a dark purr. "A trait I love about you. However, you will come for me now."
His fingers drove deeper inside her, his thumb a punishing pressure on her clit. She felt herself shattering, the orgasm crashing over her in waves as she cried out his name, her body arching against him, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she pulsed and dripped around them. The bond flared between them, white-hot, her pleasure his, his satisfaction hers.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his lips and tasting her with deliberate reverence. Then he lowered his head and licked the salt from her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her jaw, the pulse hammering beneath her skin. His fangs grazed the sensitive curve of her neck, a promise and a warning.
"The real war begins now," he whispered against her skin. "In this bed and beyond. Aldous was only the first crack in the wall. There will be others who challenge you, who challenge us. Every one of them will learn what I just learned."
She was still trembling, the aftershocks of her orgasm rippling through her as she looked up into his dark eyes. "And what is that?"
He smiled, the expression sharp and wolfish. "That there is no force in this world or any other that can stand between us. Not armies, not councils, not old loyalties. You broke my second with your bare hands tonight. You saw through his scheme when he thought he had fooled me. You are not just my wife, Bianca. You are my equal. My only true peer."
He kissed her then, slow and deep, tasting himself on her lips, tasting the day they had shared. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
"I meant what I said about the position. Be my second. Stand at my right hand, not as a consort but as a commander. Together we will reshape this coast, this country, this world. Aldous was the first to fall. He will not be the last."
Bianca reached up and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the unnatural stillness of his skin, the power thrumming beneath it. The bond hummed between them, steady and strong. She had spent her whole life trusting no one, building walls so high that even she couldn't climb them. And here was a man who had walked through them like they were smoke.
"While you are telling me what to do," she said slowly, a smile curving her lips. "I will make you pay for every command."
"Good." He kissed her again, harder, his hand sliding down her body once more. "I would expect nothing less."
Bianca caught his wrist mid-descent and pressed it back against his own chest. In one fluid motion, she swung her leg over his hips and straddled him, pinning his thighs beneath hers. The silk of her camisole rode up her ribs, exposing a strip of dark skin above her trousers. Tomas's hands found her hips, his fingers digging into the fabric with possessive intent.
"We still have one other matter to settle, my dear husband," she said, grinding her hips against the heavy length of him. Through the layers of silk and linen, she could feel him harden, and Tomas's breath caught, his jaw tightening as the wet heat of her soaked through to his skin.
"Oh yeah?" His voice had gone rough, all that ancient polish stripped back to raw hunger. "What matter is that, my beloved?"
"The matter of your complicity in Aldous's intent to kill your bride."
Bianca reached behind her neck and pulled the silk camisole over her head in a single motion. Her small breasts caught the lamplight, her nipples dark and tight from the cool air of the chamber. She tossed the garment aside and continued to rock against him, slow and deliberate, each roll of her hips drawing a low sound from deep in Tomas's chest.
He stared at her, his dark eyes tracing the line of her collarbone, the curve of her breast, the flat plane of her stomach. His hands tightened on her hips, stilling her motion.
"You are right," he said, and there was no apology in his voice, only acknowledgment. "It was before the bond. Before any of this."
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, feeling the unnatural stillness beneath her palms. No heartbeat. No pulse. Just the coiled power of a predator waiting to strike.
"So if we never bonded," she murmured, her voice a purr, "if we never fucked. You would have had me killed?"
"Yes." He said it without hesitation, his eyes holding hers. "I would not lie to you."
The honesty of it sent a shiver down her spine. Not fear. Something else. Something that pooled hot in her belly alongside the lingering aftershocks of her climax.
"I know," she said softly. "In truth, I had plans to kill you as well. You just beat me to the punch."
Tomas's mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "It is our nature, is it not?" He shifted beneath her, hooking his arms under her legs and lifting her, repositioning her until her wet cunt hovered inches from his face. The lamplight gleamed on her glistening folds, and she felt his breath against her skin, cool and tantalizing.
"Tell me," he said, his voice a dark caress against her thighs. "How would you have killed me? I am dying to know."
Bianca braced her hands on the headboard behind her, arching her back as she settled her weight onto her heels. She looked down at him between her thighs, at the pale planes of his face, the hunger in his dark eyes, the hint of fang at his parted lips.
"I would have poisoned your blood wine," she said, her voice steady despite the way her hips twitched toward his mouth. "A slow venom, something that mimics the wasting sickness. You would have grown weak over weeks, months even. Your enemies would have smelled the blood in the water. They would have moved against you, and I would have been there to step in, the grieving widow who took control in your final days. By the time you died, your empire would already be mine."
Tomas's eyes gleamed. "Clever. You would have let my own kind tear me apart while you played the loyal wife."
"Exactly." She reached down and threaded her fingers through his dark hair, tilting his face up to hers. "But you never gave me the chance, did you? You bound me to you with blood and ceremony before I could strike."
His tongue swept out, a slow, flat stroke from her entrance to her clit. Bianca gasped, her hips bucking against his mouth.
"And now?" he asked against her skin, the words vibrating through her. "Do you still wish to kill me?"
She looked down at him for a long moment, her purple eyes dark and unreadable. Then she smiled, slow and sharp.
"No," she said. "I have found a better use for you."
She pushed him back against the pillows and rose up on her knees, reaching down to work her trousers down her hips. He watched her with predatory stillness, his hands gripping her thighs as she stripped the garment away and flung it aside. She was bare beneath, her dark skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, her cunt slick and swollen from his earlier attentions.
Tomas made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan. He caught her waist and lifted her, drawing her up his body until she hovered over his face. His tongue found her clit again, lapping at her with slow, luxurious strokes, savoring the taste of her.
"Tell me more about your plan," he murmured against her flesh. "I want to know every detail of how you would have ended me."
Bianca's head fell back, her hands gripping the headboard as his tongue worked her. She was still sensitive from her earlier climax, and every stroke sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her nerves.
"I would have taken my time," she gasped. "I would have made you suffer. Not just physically. I would have picked apart your alliances one by one, turned your most trusted lieutenants against you. I would have made you watch as everything you built crumbled around you."
His fingers slid into her, two at once, curling against that spot that made her see stars. She cried out, her hips grinding against his hand and mouth.
"And when you were at your lowest," she continued, her voice breaking on a moan, "when you had nothing left, I would have visited you in your cell and told you exactly who I was. I would have shown you every face of the curse in my blood, and I would have made you beg for death."
Tomas pulled his mouth away just long enough to speak, his voice rough and dark. "And would you have given it to me?"
"Eventually." She looked down at him, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "After I had my fill of your suffering."
He laughed, the sound vibrating against her cunt as he pulled her down onto his mouth again. His tongue plunged into her, fucking her in rhythm with his fingers, and she shattered against him with a cry that echoed off the velvet-draped walls.
She was still trembling when he lifted her, turning her in his arms and laying her out on the silk sheets. He came over her, his weight a welcome pressure, and she felt the thick length of him slide along her slick folds, teasing her entrance.
"Your plan was better than mine," he admitted, his voice a low rumble against her ear. "I would have simply drained you dry on our wedding night and blamed it on a rival clan."
"That is so boring." Bianca reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, guiding him to her entrance. "No imagination. No flair. No sense of drama."
He thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, her back arching off the sheets as he filled her, the stretch of him a familiar, welcome ache.
"Lucky for you," she breathed, wrapping her legs around his waist, "I have enough imagination for both of us."
He began to move, slow and deep, each thrust grinding against her clit. His mouth found her throat, his fangs grazing the pulse point as he fucked her with deliberate, punishing precision.
"Marry me," he said against her skin. "Again. In a hundred years. In a thousand. I want to know that you will still be here, plotting my death in ways I have never imagined."
Bianca laughed, breathless and wild. "Is that a proposal, Don Tomas?"
"It is a promise." He drove into her harder, and she cried out, her nails raking down his back. "I want to spend eternity wondering what scheme you are weaving in that beautiful, twisted mind of yours."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. "Then you shall have it," she whispered against his lips. "And I shall spend eternity showing you exactly how lucky you are that I chose not to kill you."
His pace quickened, the bond between them blazing white-hot, her pleasure his, his hunger hers. Bianca felt the second wave building, coiling tight in her belly as he drove into her, relentless and raw.
"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark growl against her ear. "Come for me, beloved, and I will give you everything."
She shattered, the orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her cunt clenching around him as she cried out his name. He followed a heartbeat later, his body shuddering above her as he spilled into her with a sound that was almost human in its raw relief.
They lay tangled together in the aftermath, breathing hard, the bond between them a warm, steady hum. Bianca traced the lines of Tomas's chest, feeling the stillness beneath her fingertips, the ancient power that had chosen her.
"The real war begins now," she said softly. "They will come for us. All of them. And we will be ready."
Tomas turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes soft in the lamplight. "We will be more than ready. We will be unstoppable."
She smiled, slow and dangerous. "I know."