Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

I don’t get but a few paces outside the door before Stone awakes. I let him fall to the ground. I thought maybe he would manage on his own feet, but I didn’t care one way or the other. He grabs his head and winces.

“What is happening to me?” He curls up on the ground.

“What the fuck did you just do in there?” I snap at him.

“Err…ugh…” He presses his head like a vice.

It’s pointless to discuss it now. He has no idea what’s going on. “You’ve been drinking poison. It damages your brain, temporarily making you feel confident and invincible until you do something so ridiculous it potentially leads to death. It’s called bourbon.”

“Is that why my head hurts so much?”

“That would be from draining too many liquids. You need water. Come.” I help him to his feet, not out of sympathy, but to hurry this up.

I take him to the manor. The Taoiseach didn’t specify where. He may not approve of me bringing him to his estate, but it will be no surprise to him. He has a way of knowing everything that takes place within his walls.

We enter through the back entrance of the fortified wall. Stone is still uncertain what is happening, but he holds most of his weight by now. I’m sure everything remains fuzzy to him. He may not even remember any of this when he wakes up tomorrow. It’ll be for the best. Who would want to remember being used? It’s a sour flavor. That means I must interrogate him now. Before I fuck him. And before he loses any memory of whatever he did back in that pub.

We enter the manor, and I get Stone into my chamber without anyone noticing. One benefit of being the Shadow is having hidden corridors to come and go as I please.

The Taoiseach mentioned spectators. I thought there wouldn’t be a challenge here, but prying information out of him before I lie with him poses just the challenge I desire. Instead of flowing left and kicking off my flats as I would typically do, I make my way to the next room with Stone in tow.

“Where are we?” he asks.

His words are no longer slurred. His talents are reacting fast to the toxins. I must be quick to act, or I will have to use force. And what man would want to remember being raped? That would go beyond sour to a rancid flavor.

“It’s no matter to you. Sit down.” I force him onto the bed. He starts caressing the silk fabric draped about it with a dull look upon his face. He’s still drunk but coming out of it quickly, no thanks to his rapid healing. “What did you do to that creep back in the pub? He was dead.”

His head lifts to look at me before his eyes do. “Creep?”

“For fucks sake. You resurrected the man I murdered back in The Jack Rose! How did you do it?”

He stares, dumbfounded.

Goddammit! I’ll just fuck him first, then get answers out of him when he sobers up.

I kick off my flats. This dress is one that warrants the need for stiletto heels, but I’ve had it tailored for flats. I would never wear such vain footwear. It’s a handicap to my role despite the natural weapon it would provide. Not my style.

I place my foot on the bed next to Stone, massaging my calf. I allow the slit to find its way high up my thigh. “I see you’ve managed that first shave.” The back of my hand graces his jawline. “You have my name. Now, what are you going to do with it?” The chase is more pleasurable than the kill.

Stone awkwardly peeks and glances away, turning red and remaining silent. Innocence. Maybe naiveté.

I lower my leg and turn around. “Do you mind?” I ask while making a faint gesture at the fastener on the back of my gown. Nothing. “Elder?”

“Err…” I turn around. He is wide eyed and trembling. “Mind what?” he asks.

I sigh. If he is too childish to take me, then I will take him. I was hoping for more.

I slam him down on the bed, lift my gown, and straddle him.

“What are you doing?” He grabs me by the hips and tosses me to the side. I let out a gasping moan. His firm hands send shivers through my body.

“I’m taking what I desire.”

“I c-can’t.” he stammers. Not the alcohol, just discomfort speaking.

“Why?” I demand. He doesn’t have an answer.

I climb to my knees on the mattress. I suddenly want him to force himself on me. I want him to take me.

He rises to his feet, but he keeps his eyes on me. I allow a strap of my gown to fall loose, my legs spread wide as I kneel on the bed. Waiting. I’ve never had a man refuse me. My eyes narrow.

I want you.

“I just can’t. It’s not right.”

His words are perfectly clear. His line of sight is direct. He stands tall. His talents have rid him of the alcohol. That was too quick.

“I’ve only just met you earlier today. Well…reacquainted, I suppose. But that is all we are. Acquaintances. It’s not right. I should court you first, gain your respect, have you deeply care for me. And then, only then, should we take this further. And that’s to say I want to take it further. You’re a beautiful woman. Stunning. Exciting.” He pauses and takes in the view. “But who are you?”

“I am Ellia Rosewood,” I reply assertively. I shift my legs and take a seat on the edge of the bed, making sure they are closed tightly, but a touch of inner thigh remains visible. New tactic. “I’m Ellia Rosewood, the Taoiseach’s Shadow,” I