in the arm with a baseball bat, like being bitten by a large dog. It was the impact that startled, but it didn't exactly hurt, not right away. Blood poured from his lips down my arm. He worried at it like a dog trying to break the neck of a rat, and I cried out.
I slumped down the side of the bed, away from him, and he stayed at my shoulder, teeth dug into my flesh. Blood dripped onto my chest, staining the white bra.
I drew my breath from deep inside my body, but I didn't scream. He was a goblin; screaming and fighting back just drove them to blood lust. I blew my breath soft upon his face. He stayed locked on my arm, eyes closed, face enraptured. I blew one quick hard breath in his face the way you do on small pets when they bite. Most things don't like having you blow in their face, especially on their eyes.
It made him open his eyes. I watched Kitto flow back into those eyes, watched him fill back up, while the animal receded. He let go of my arm.
I slumped back against the dresser, and the pain was sharp and immediate. I had the urge to curse him soundly, but staring up into his face, I couldn't.
Blood covered his mouth like lipstick gone wild. It dripped down his chin, stained his throat. His eyes were focused, and he was himself again, but he still ran that narrow forked tongue across tiny bloodstained teeth. He rolled back onto the bed and basked in the afterglow.
I just sat on the floor and bled.
Doyle knelt behind me with a small towel in his hands. He raised my arm, wrapping the towel around it, not so much to stop the bleeding, but to catch the blood and keep it from getting all over everything.
The scent of flowers filled the air, pleasant but strong. Doyle glanced up at the mirror. "Someone is asking permission to speak through the mirror."
"Who is it?"
"I am not sure. Niceven, perhaps."
I looked at my bloody arm. "Is this a good enough show?"
"If you do not show pain while we bind the wound, yes."
I sighed. "Great. Help me sit on the edge of the bed." He lifted me in his arms and sat me on the bed. "I didn't need that much help."
"My apologies. I didn't know how hurt you might be."
"I'll live." I took the towel and held it on the wound. Kitto curled around me, his face still bloodstained. He'd kicked off all the sheets, so that with his body pressed up against mine you couldn't see his short-shorts from the mirror. He'd look naked. He writhed against me, his forked tongue licking the blood from his lips, and further around his mouth. His hands stroked along my waist and hips.
Kurag could say what he wished, but taking flesh this way was sex for the goblins.
"Answer them, Doyle, then get me something to stop the blood."
He smiled and gave a small bow. He motioned and the mirror sprang to life showing a hook-nosed man with skin the color of bluebells.
It was Hedwick, King Taranis's social secretary. Not only was he not Niceven, but he was so not going to appreciate the show.
Chapter 26
Hedwick didn't even look out from the mirror. He was reading down a list, face half-averted. "Greetings to Princess Meredith NicEssus from the High King Taranis Thunderer. This is to inform you of a pre-Yule ball three days hence. His majesty looks forward to seeing you there."
During the speech, he had not looked out at the room. His hand was actually reaching out to cleanse the mirror when I spoke.
I said the one word he probably didn't expect to hear. "No."
His hand went down, and he looked up into the room with a cross look on his face. The look gave way to astonishment, then disgust. Maybe it was watching Kitto writhe on the bed. Maybe it was me being splattered with blood. Whatever, he didn't like the show.
"You are Princess Meredith NicEssus, are you not?" His voice dripped with disdain, as if he found it hard to believe.
"Yes."
"Then we will see you at the ball." Again his hand went up to cleanse the mirror.
"No," I said again.
He lowered his hand and scowled at me. "I have quite a few invitations to make today, Princess, so I do not have time for histrionics."
I smiled, but could feel my eyes going hard. But underneath the anger was