LOREN
Loren could not have said how long the feeding lasted. An eternity. Too short. He was lost in the pleasure and the pure rush of sensations pouring through him.Then Rexanna’s teeth retreated and he whined, almost, fingers tightening in her hair to keep her there for just a second longer. She was so close, and the aftermaths of what she’d done to him continue to roll through him, causing him to shiver from something very different from the cold. And her blue eyes were right there, hovering above him. So beautiful, so tempting. If he wanted to, he could reach out and kiss her.
That thought—along with the fact that the unnatural heat was receding somewhat—finally broke through the euphoria coursing through him. It helped when the blue-eyed woman spoke, giving him something to focus on besides his strange and unexpected desire to rip off his clothes and then hers. She was engaged to be married, and he, well, was unlovable and hated to be touched. This wasn't him. It wasn't. He kept thinking that over and over and over again.
As the flames receded, they left chill fingers of dread and revulsion in their wake. It wasn’t Rexanna’s fault, and the summoner should’ve predicted this outcome, but the sensation was too overwhelming, too little under his control, and way too similar to the way his family used to twist his mind and his emotions against him. Of course, sexual pleasure hadn’t been their preferred weapons, for obvious reasons, but the lack of agency horrified him.
So, again not fully under his own control (and even though heat still flared up in parts of his body) Loren rolled to the edge of the bridge and threw up, sending bile and the contents of his stomach plunging to the mists below.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
