Esther walked into Eleanor’s room with a tray of dress as she grinned mischievously. Eleanor, fresh out of the bathroom with damp hair cascading over her shoulders, raised an eyebrow at the tray. "What is that for?"
Instead of answering, Esther tossed a bundle of fabric onto the bed. "This is from Master Silas. He wants you in his room. Now."
Eleanor’s breath hitched. Silas?
Before she could question further, Esther was already at the door. “Wear it and go. Don’t keep him waiting.” And with that, she was gone, leaving Eleanor staring after her, heart pounding.
She turned to the fabric, hesitating before reaching for it. As she unfolded it, her pulse spiked.
A dress—if it could even be called that. Thin straps, silk, a deep slit running dangerously high. The deep crimson color matched Silas’s usual attire.
Her stomach dipped. Excitement. Nerves. A thousand questions.
Was this an invitation? Was this part of the ceremony since it was the night of the ceremony
She wasn’t sure.
But before she could overthink it, she was already slipping into it.
The cool silk glided over her skin like a whisper. She swallowed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Was this really her?
Her lips parted slightly, her cheeks warm. Her skin still tingled from Silas’s bite earlier that night. That moment had been different from the others. Gentler. More… intimate.
She inhaled sharply and turned toward the door.
When Eleanor got to his quarters, she hesitated for only a second before knocking.
The door swung open almost immediately.
“Come in.” His voice was deep, smooth—expecting.
She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. The room was dimly lit, the scent of leather and something earthy lingering in the air.
And there he was.
Shirtless.
Eleanor’s breath caught.
Silas stood by the window, moonlight tracing the hard lines of his broad chest, sculpted abs, powerful shoulders. A warrior. A king.
His gray eyes darkened as they roamed over her. Slowly. Appreciatively.
“Eleanor,” he murmured.
She swallowed. “You sent for me.”
“I did.” He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. “And you came.”
Her throat felt dry. “Should I not have?”
He smirked. “Do you want to leave?”
Eleanor didn’t answer. Because she didn’t want to leave.
Silas reached out, tracing a finger down her arm, making her shiver. “You look beautiful.”
Heat bloomed in her chest.
His hand slid around her waist, pulling her against him. Skin to skin. His warmth seeped into her, setting fire to every nerve in her body.
“Silas…”
His fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to meet his. His pupils were dilated, his breathing deeper.
Desire. Want. Hunger.
She knew that look. But it wasn’t the same as before, when he or his brothers had bitten her. This was different.
“I thought…” She hesitated, licking her lips. “I thought you wanted blood.”
His smirk deepened, a wicked curve of his lips that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Not tonight,” he growled, his voice low and rough, like gravel skidding across silk. And then, without warning, his mouth crashed onto hers, devouring her with a ferocity that left her gasping.
Eleanor’s body arched instinctively into his, her breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest. His hands slid down her back, possessive and demanding, pulling her so close there wasn’t a sliver of space between them. She melted into him, every nerve ending alight with a heat that threatened to consume her. His kiss was relentless, a claiming that left no doubt about what he wanted—what he needed.
Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt before scraping against his skin beneath. He growled again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through her entire body, making her knees buckle. But he didn’t let her fall. Instead, he scooped her up effortlessly, one arm hooked under her ass, the other cradling her back as her legs wrapped around his waist.
Their lips never parted as he carried her to the bed, his steps deliberate, measured, like a predator savoring its prey. The room blurred around them, all logic and reason dissolving into the heat of his touch, the fire of his kiss. She was lost in him, in the way his tongue tangled with hers, in the way his hands roamed her body like he owned it.
When her back hit the mattress, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he followed her down, his weight pressing her into the sheets as his mouth left hers to trail hot, wet kisses down her neck. Her head fell back, exposing her throat to him, and she felt the sharp graze of his teeth against her skin, a reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his control. But tonight, the hunger in him wasn’t for blood—it was something far more primal.
His hands moved to the hem of her dress, fingers skimming up her thighs, pushing the fabric higher and higher until it bunched around her hips. She gasped as his palm slid between her legs, cupping her through the thin barrier of her underwear.
“You’re so ready for me,” he muttered against her skin, his voice ragged with need.