Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the questions tumbling in her mind. Except for one: How did his blood wind up inside of me?

Each stride Eden took back to her room was trying. She frowned, pulling at the bodice of her dress, which had been reduced to scraps. Every time the fabric shifted against her skin, it sent a thrill through her, and she recalled the feel of Draven’s kisses against her breasts. By the sun, she wanted him so desperately, and to have him pull away, to end it, left a void in her. Eden ached in her core and longed for him to soothe her with his deft fingers.

Inside the warmth of her bedroom, Eden stripped free of her gown, then hurled herself onto her bed. She closed her eyes and traced where Draven’s mouth had been, where she wished it had been.

None had touched her before save for her own fingers, but by the sun, she wished Draven would. She traced her fingers over her hardened nipples, then downward until she met a pool of warmth. Eden ran the pad of her finger along the bead of pleasure, moaning as a new thrill ran through her veins. This wasn’t her first time exploring herself—she was a virgin, but that didn’t mean she lacked knowledge in how to pleasure herself.

She panted, writhing as she quickened the motion against the knot of nerves. Eden had been so wound up in the hall, with Draven against her, it wouldn’t be long. She rasped, dipping her fingers into her warmth, wanting, so wanting more.

“Draven,” she whispered, shuddering as pleasure burst within, releasing a fraction of her frustration. Her body relaxed against the mattress as she panted and stared up at the ceiling.

Even the languid feel of her body could not keep thoughts of tonight from filtering back in. Eden frowned. How did Draven’s blood wind up inside her? She lifted a hand to her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to dissect the evening. There had only been one moment she felt uneasy, and that was with Mynata’s toast. But there was no way she could have obtained his blood. Unless they’d been entangled . . .

Eden growled in frustration. The image of Mynata with Draven was enough to raise her hackles. She didn’t trust the vampiress as far as she could throw her, and the way she cooed at Draven maddened Eden. Mine, a not so quiet voice said in the back of her mind. But he wasn’t. Not yet.

“Loriah,” Eden eventually summoned her handmaiden. She sat up in bed, beginning the laborious process of undoing her hair.

The pale revenant assessed her with one look. “Well, did it work?” Loriah softly pressed as she approached the bed. She began plucking the pins out of Eden’s hair, carefully placing them in a pile beside her.

“Did wh . . . oh.” She lifted a hand to her swollen lips, closed her eyes, and swore she could feel Draven between her legs, pressing into her core as she ground into him. “Yes. But it ended quickly. Someone fed me his blood.” Eden could scarcely speak, her throat tight with a mix of emotions.

Loriah, amidst her careful plucking of the pins, froze. “What? That is no minor offense, my lady. It is bad enough to use another vampire’s blood in such a way, but the king’s? And to toy with his future queen?” She froze again, but this time she stared into the distance.

Eden had grown used to Loriah’s absent moments. It was her listening to the chatter of the castle. But what did she hear or see?

“The king has just declared that anyone found guilty of this crime will be sentenced to death.” Loriah glanced down at Eden as she shivered, and as if noticing for the first time her mistress was naked, she turned to fetch the robe hanging up in the corner of the room. When she returned to Eden’s side, she draped it over her shoulders.

Eden blanched. She lifted her hands to cup her cheeks. “Death? Surely it . . . ” But then she recalled the story Draven had told her, of the were-wolf lifting his arm to strike him. Was this not similar? Only this time, it was Draven and Eden. Anger bled into her desire. How dare someone insult him on their night of celebration!

“Loriah, I’ll need some tea to help me sleep.”

The handmaiden nodded and promptly discarded the last of the pins in Eden’s hair. A far-off look entered her gaze for a moment, then she was back to tending Eden.

“I don’t think I could bear anything more than my own skin tonight.” Her skin still felt far too hot, and to consider the weight of her blankets, as well as a heavy nightdress—it was too much.

Loriah, spirits love her, only smiled as Eden suffered in silence. But the tell-tale shredded dress, kiss-swollen lips, and marks from where Draven’s mouth had been along her neck said enough, Eden surmised.

Eden opened the trunk and pulled free one of the sheer articles, then slid it over her head. The friction against her nipples was torture; all she longed for was Draven’s teeth to graze the tender flesh of her breasts once more. Even his fangs were welcome to prick her skin.

Loriah vanished from the room, only to appear minutes later, this time with a cup of tea in her grasp.

Eden growled in frustration, and she quickly climbed into the bed. She didn’t drink the cup down delicately, she sucked it in and prayed it would send her into a deep sleep fast.

It did not, but eventually, she fell into a sleep full of tantalizing dreams.

The next morning, Eden wished to speak with Draven about the previous night. She didn’t need or want to explain herself, but she felt as though he needed to know it wasn’t just his blood coursing through her that had drawn those feelings out. It amplified what had been building the entire evening.

As she approached his study, she rapped her knuckles on the door frame before walking in. Seurat stood in the corner, his lips twitching—the faintest of smiles—and he nodded to the chair where Draven sat.

“My lord, I—” Eden’s eyes widened as she caught him amidst his breakfast. His fangs were buried deep in the wrist of a human. Not one trickle of blood escaped his mouth. A few weeks ago, Eden would have screamed, but she had grown accustomed to this being his way of living. If he did not feed, he would suffer, and the thought of him suffering sent a pang of sorrow through her.

Eden approached as Draven lowered the human’s arm, his eyes following her as she walked forward. “Yes?”

“I wish to have breakfast with you.”

“Breakfast?” Before him, a goblet sat on the desk. He grabbed it and looked rather lost, awkward, as he drained his meal into the cup. Once he was done, he motioned to Seurat. “Send this one down with a harpy, and we will be in the dining hall.”

Eden slid out of the study, unsure of what to say now that it was just them. She opted to say nothing for now as she recited the words in her head. But once they were at the dining table, Eden chose to sit in the chair next to him instead of farther down the king’s table.

“Last night—”

“Eden—”

Color rushed into her cheeks as she searched his gaze, wondering what was going on inside his mind. If only she could be privy to it.

“Eden, I want to apologize first and foremost. No one should have tampered with your drink. Also, what you felt or what you . . . ” He was clearly grasping for what to say next, or how to say it in a way that wouldn’t offend her.

Eden stared down at the table, feeling her entire body flush with a mixture of desire and embarrassment. “I did exactly what I wanted to. Long before your blood ever coursed through me, I wanted to kiss you.” She turned her gaze to him and studied his expression, which had formed into a look of surprise.

“When I cleaned your wound, and when you held me against you during the dances, I wanted to know what it felt like then. Only, with my inexperience, I didn’t know how to go about it, or even if you wanted it.”

Draven ran his finger along the rim of his goblet, his eyes trained on hers. “How . . . inexperienced are you?”

Eden flushed, but she didn’t look away from him. In Lucem, it wasn’t abnormal to see lovers rutting in the shadows or even in the streets. It was an open kingdom, where one didn’t hold innocence on a pedestal unless it was for political gain. But Eden had never partaken in one of the parties of pleasure or tasted another’s lips until last night.

“As far as first kisses go, I think that was adequate,” Eden lightly teased him, but it was the truth, and she only wanted to lift the weight of the situation.

“By the moon . . . Eden, I shouldn’t have been so—”

Eden extended her hand, letting a finger graze his. “No. None of that.” She turned as servants entered with her meal, and when they left, Seurat promptly shut the door as he, too, disappeared.

Draven’s fingers caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, but he said nothing more on the matter.

Eden turned to her plate, which consisted of an array of fruits. She jabbed one with her fork and broke the silence that threatened to spread between them.

“What do you do when you’re not busy with kingdom affairs?” It was a question that had been niggling her. What did he do for fun?

Amidst a gulp of blood, Draven’s eyebrows raised. “Well, I sometimes take Rayvnin for a ride through the fields, and there is a lake near the mountains that I enjoy swimming in.”

She smiled as she listened. What would Draven look like, unburdened by responsibilities and duty? Eden knew the deep history of the brothers and what they’d suffered through, but still, she wondered what it would take for Draven to let himself enjoy a moment instead of rushing through it.

She sighed. “I used to do the same. I’d take Aiya, the mare my father gifted me, for rides in the meadow by the manor. My mother loathed it, but I’d never felt so free in my life.” Eden ate another mouthful of berries and shrugged a shoulder. “When we were both lathered in sweat, we’d go to the lake and cool off, then the sun would dry us on the bank.”

The sun’s strength would only produce more freckles against her pale skin and redden her complexion. There was no way to avoid being caught by her mother, but it was worth it in the end.

“Usually, my friend Aurelie would be with me.” She lifted her lashes and chanced a look in his direction. “Believe it or not, at home, I wasn’t the troublemaker. Aurelie was.”

Draven chuckled then shook his head. “Oh, you’re right. I don’t believe it.”

As he laughed, Eden decided she much liked the sound and wanted to hear it more often. She quieted herself, only so that he had the chance to speak and she could actually finish her morning meal.