BLAIR'S POV
The air in the grand hall was thick enough to choke on. Damien's grip on my wrist was like a shackle of ice, but the fire in his eyes told a different story. He was vibrating with a silent, lethal rage—half of it directed at the vulture who had just left, and the other half… at me.
"You think this is a game?" he hissed, his voice dropping to a predatory growl. He stepped closer, forcing me back against the cold stone pillar of the staircase. "You stand there, half-dead and smiling, mocking the Council and tempting a monster that hasn't fed properly in centuries. Do you have any idea how close I am to snapping your neck just to stop your heart from beating that maddening rhythm?"
"Then do it," I breathed, my lungs straining as I looked up at him. "Break me. Feed on me. But stop looking at me like I'm a tragedy. Look at me like I'm yours."
That was the spark that blew the powder keg.
Damien let out a sound—something between a curse and a roar—and suddenly, his mouth was on mine. It wasn't a kiss; it was a claim. It was hard, punishing, and tasted like dark wine and ancient hunger. He tasted of power and secrets, and I drank him in like a woman dying of thirst.
I moaned into his mouth, my hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer. I wanted to be absorbed by him. I wanted his shadows to swallow me whole.
Without breaking the kiss, Damien hooked his arm under my thighs and hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my black silk dress riding up to my hips. He slammed me against the stone wall, the impact jarring my bones, but all I could feel was the heat of his body pressing into mine.
"You want to feel alive, Blair?" he growled against my lips, his fangs grazing my lower lip until I tasted blood. "I'll show you what it feels like to be consumed by a King."
He carried me back toward the private chambers, his strides long and urgent. He didn't use the stairs; shadows swirled around us, and in a blink of an eye, we were back in the Crimson Chamber. He threw me onto the bed, but this time, he followed me down immediately.
His hands were everywhere. He ripped the thin silk straps of my dress, exposing my shoulders to the chill of the room. His eyes—now a bottomless, obsidian black—tracked every inch of my skin as if he were memorizing a map of his new territory.
"Your skin is too pale," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my collarbone, pressing hard enough to leave a mark. "It needs color. It needs my color."
He leaned down, his tongue licks a path from my throat to the valley between my breasts. I arched my back, my fingers digging into the silk sheets. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming, a symphony of pleasure that made me forget the dull ache in my chest.
"Damien..." I gasped, my head tossing back.
"Call me what you called me before," he commanded, his voice muffled against my skin. He moved lower, his hands gripping my hips with a possessiveness that bordered on violent.
"My King," I whimpered. "Please."
He looked up, a feral smirk tugging at his lips. He reached for the belt of his tunic, discarding it with a flick of his hand. When he moved back over me, the friction of his hard, muscled body against mine was almost too much to bear. He was solid, heavy, and so incredibly real.
He took my hands and pinned them above my head with one of his. With his free hand, he began to trail his fingers downward, past my stomach, toward the hem of my ruined dress.
"I can hear it," he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. "Your heart. It's racing. It's terrified. And it's… thrilled."
"It's beating for you," I managed to say, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Only for you."
Damien leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "If I take you tonight, Blair, I take everything. There is no going back. You won't be a sacrifice anymore. You will be mine. In this life and whatever comes after."
"Take it all," I challenged, my eyes meeting his. "I have nothing else to give."
He didn't hesitate. His hand moved, and I let out a sharp, broken cry of pleasure as he finally touched me where I was most desperate. It was too much, too fast, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to stop my heart right then and there.
Damien watched me, his expression a mix of agony and ecstasy. He was a predator who had finally found his match, and I was the prey that refused to run.
"Stay with me, Blair," he growled, his voice a primal command as he moved to claim me fully. "Don't you dare die on me now."
As the room blurred into a haze of heat and shadow, I realized that Valerius was wrong. The clock hadn't stopped, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the time I had left. I was too busy burning.