Page 63 of Fallen Nocturne

The thought crashes through me and shame floods after it.

This is a nightwalker. A Strigon. A creature I don’t trust.

My eyes betray me anyway.

His sharp features are softened by pleasure, dark hair falling across his face. The hard line of his jaw has gone slack, his lips parted. He looks nothing like the vampire who watches me from across the war table with those unreadable eyes. The cold composure he wears like armor has dissolved, leaving someone I have never seen before.

I am going to Hel. Whatever gods are listening must be judging me and finding me completely lacking. Still, I cannot look away.

His breathing changes. Faster, rougher. A soft sound escapes him, something between a groan and a gasp.

The door is right there. He is distracted, completely lost in this. I could slip out and he would never know I was here. I think about it. I don’t move.

I stay pressed against the wall and I watch. I’ve made my choice.

His pace increases and he makes another desperate sound.

I should leave I should leave I should leave.

I don’t leave.

His back arches. The crystal glow catches everything, the flex of his stomach, the tension along his jaw, his hand moving faster now with each stroke.

He is close. I can tell somehow, reading his tells like I know him.

But I don’t know him and I don’t want to know him.

The careful rhythm shatters into something erratic and urgent, his free hand slamming against the wall. His breathing stutters, his whole body pulls tight.

“Rhianelle.”

My entire body locks.

Did he just groan my name?

I must have misheard.

“Rhianelle,” he breathes again. “Gods, Rhianelle.”

The sound is wrecked, like he’s been holding it back and finally can’t anymore. His hand doesn’t stop. He keeps moving in quick desperate strokes, completely lost.

He is pleasuring himself to thoughts of me?

Something sharp twists low in my belly. Confusing and unwelcome. I don’t know what to do with it so I just stand there, frozen.

“Please,” he whispers to the image of me in his mind.

His whole body goes rigid. Every muscle locks at once and he shatters, a groan tearing out of him that breaks into something almost like a sob. He spills over his hand and his abdomen and I watch every second of it, unable to look away. He slumps forward after, breathing hard, dark hair falling around his face.

“Please, Nel.” His forehead presses against the wall, breath still ragged. “I need you. Come back to me.”

I gasp.

Nel?

This evil vampire even has a nickname for me. I clap a hand over my mouth quickly. Thank goodness he doesn’t hear it.

I realize I am holding my breath. I force myself to breathe slowly and quietly again. I need to leave. Right now. Before he recovers and this gets any worse.