The Priestess and the Thief Kindred Tales 30 - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,71

me and not His Majesty but it’s a start.”

“A definite start,” Roke agreed. “I take it the ultimate goal is for the Crown Prince to ride Demon without you being there?”

“Yes, I believe the Prince wants to ride him where everyone in the Court can see him looking fine and grand just once. After that, maybe he’ll give me a piece of the Healing Lattice.”

“I’m curious to know what the Lattice looks like,” Roke remarked. He had tried once or twice to catch a glimpse of it, but it was secreted in the very center of the palace in an inner sanctum ringed with guards day and night. Though he was an extremely competent thief, he had to admit there was no casual way in or out of the inner sanctum where the Healing Lattice was kept.

“I’d like to know, too.” Ellilah sighed. “This quest is taking longer than I thought it would. My one comfort is that the wasting sickness the old Priestess Superior has is supposed to take a long time to kill its victims. So she should hopefully still be all right by the time I get back to the Mother Ship.”

“Hopefully,” Roke murmured, kissing her on the top of her head again. “Are you almost ready to go? You know the Duke and Duchess won’t like it if we’re late.”

“I know,” Ellilah said. She made a face. “I just hope we have something better than slime soup and rotten eggs tonight.”

It was true that the Tenebrian cuisine still left a lot to be desired. Luckily, they had a few simple dishes which the servant class ate and their fruits were delicious. Roke and Ellilah had taken to just pretending to eat during the formal Suppers and then calling for the more simple fare to be sent to their room later.

Of course, their second supper often went cold since they couldn’t keep their hands off each other after all the Mirroring they were required to do, but that was certainly a price Roke was willing to pay to taste his curvy little priestess and feel her coming against his tongue…Gods, just the thought of it made him hot!

“You’re looking lovely tonight, little priestess,” he murmured, running his hands up and down Ellilah’s sides and then reaching around to cup her full breasts, which were clearly exposed by the mostly see-through Supper gown she was wearing. Tonight the lace patches held together by the silky transparent fabric were deep crimson, but none of them covered either her breasts or her sex, which meant her curvy body was beautifully on display.

“Roke…” She blushed prettily in the mirror but didn’t try to stop him when he circled the tight points of her nipples through the silky, see-through fabric. In fact, she pressed her breasts forward into his hands, eager for his touch.

“Mmm…” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the tender side of her throat, feeling his fangs itch and ache as he did so.

Lately the stubby little fangs he’d barely noticed his entire life had been bothering him in ways they never had before, but Roke paid them no mind. He was more focused on Ellilah.

“We have a little time before Supper,” he murmured. “Are you aching, little priestess?”

“How can I help it when…when you’re teasing me like that?” Ellilah said breathlessly, nodding down to where he was gently twisting her tight peaks.

“Just trying to get you ready for our Mirroring tonight,” Roke murmured and nipped gently at her slender throat.

For a moment he wished he could actually bite her, but that was foolish. He wasn’t really a Blood Kindred, after all—he was Havoc and that was the only side of his heritage he wished to claim.

“Why don’t you let me heal you before we go?” he asked softly in her ear.

Ellilah bit her lip, her brow furrowing in anxiety.

“Roke, you really shouldn’t be, uh, healing me before we have to start Mirroring, should you? And besides, didn’t you just say that the Duke and Duchess would be upset if we were late?”

“Let them wait,” Roke growled. Dropping to his knees before her, he pressed her back against the wall and raised the silky skirt of her dress to bare her plump little pussy mound, which drew him like a magnet.

Pressing his cheek to her small patch of blonde curls, he rubbed against her, marking her with his own scent while inhaling hers—loving the sweet, feminine aroma of her desire.

“You’re already wet, my Numalla,” he growled, looking up at