His Lycan Princess | 18+

Crave

The bathroom, an echo of Vilskansser Mansion's chaotic allure, mirrored the untidy yet enchanting beauty that permeated the entire estate. The tiles on the floor held tales of countless footsteps, worn with age and mystery. A foggy mirror reflected the room's disarray, while a sink, flanked by shelves overflowing with towels and an assortment of bottles containing fragrant perfumes, shampoos, and soaps, added to the disheveled charm.

Amidst this organized chaos, a commanding presence dominated the space—an opulent oval bathtub crafted from marble, its golden legs resembling the clawed paws of formidable creatures, possibly bears, lions, or most fittingly, wolves.

Bane crouched beside the ornate tub, effortlessly turning the faucet with a confidence that belied his supernatural nature. For a while nothing happened. “Bane,” I said, as I began to voice my skepticism about the water's cooperation, “I don’t think–”

He silenced me with a raised hand and a knowing smile. "Just you wait," he insisted.

With anticipation in the air, the pipes lining the walls began their symphony, a low rumble that heralded the arrival of a steaming cascade. Hot water burst forth from the tap, translucent and inviting, enveloping the room in a misty embrace of steam.

Bane's triumphant declaration echoed through the space, “I told you to wait.”

“And you were right. What foresight from such a wise man to know his own tab, huh?”

“Do I sense some sarcasm?” he teased, to which I responded with a playful retort, “No, you don’t sense it. It’s not just you. The sarcasm is here. I am being sarcastic!”

“Ha-ha. Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart, for soon you’re going to be whimpering again. We’ll see who gets to laugh last then.”

“Why would I whimper?” I asked.

“Come here.” Bane beckoned me to the luxurious sanctuary of the bathtub, his hand outstretched to offer stability as I immersed myself in the comforting warmth. The water, a balm to my trembling nerves, held the promise of a long-lost solace.

I moaned, relieved. The feeling of this liquid heat was softer and smoother than the finest and most delicate silk. It caressed and soothed my aching body. It felt much, much better than the air against my exposed skin.

“Well, how’s the water?” Bane inquired.

“It’s delightful,” I said. “Don’t you dare turn the tab to cold water just to make me cry out.”

“I wouldn’t dare. No, this is not why you’re going to be whimpering,” he said.

“What is it then?”

“Holy water.” Bane turned and began searching the bottles sprawled around the sink until he found the one he was looking for. He held it in the air with a victorious: “Aha!” It was a small crystal bottle, devoid of any label, containing a sparkling, colorless liquid that could only be…

“Holy water?” I questioned incredulously. That was the last thing I would expect to have now, leave alone to cry over. “Are you hearing yourself? Why would I be–”

Bane, with practiced ease, uncorked the bottle with his teeth and let the sacred liquid cascade into the bath. Drip, drip, drip—the water shimmered with an otherworldly essence.

“You’ve been bitten by vampyrs.”

“Vampires?” I asked, confused by the weird accent he had wrapped the word in.

“Yes. We lycans call them vampyrs, the same way you mortals call us wolves.”

“Or sons of bitches and mangy dogs,” I offered in alternative. “Matter of fact, my grandma calls your kin fleabags.”

“Why,” said Bane ironically. “She sounds like a lovely old woman. No wonder where you got that sharp tongue of yours, Selene. Anyway, as I was saying, the only thing that can stop the infection of a vampyr’s lethal bite from ending the victim’s life is holy water.”

Bane's revelation about the vampire bite lingered in the air, similar to what the abbess had warned me about. I couldn't deny a shiver of fear. My life had almost ended. Almost. My mind raced, processing the gravity of the situation. Bane went on: “You’ll survive, but in the meantime, it’s going to sting like hell.”

I went silent for a moment, letting his words sink in, waiting to see the effect the holy water was going to have on me, expecting the pain to the searing. It wasn’t.

“I don’t feel anything,” I said, perplexed.

But I spoke too soon. The next moment, something happened that made me scream. As the liquid touched my skin, the initial lack of sensation deceived me, only to be replaced by an abrupt, stinging agony that pierced every little opening the venomous fangs had torn into my body. “Ah, aaah!” I cried. “It stings!”

“I told you it was going to. Such a wise man indeed.” Bane remarked, his wink carrying a mix of amusement and concern.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to sink deeper into the water, each tender caress revealing hidden wounds and bites. I discovered areas I hadn’t realized were damaged. The pain, a poignant reminder of the recent nearly fatal encounter, tested my resolve. I winced and chewed on my bottom lip to keep my screaming in. I wasn’t going to let Bane Vilskansser hear me whimper. No way. I fought against the suffering. Yet, beneath the sting, a subtle sense of relief emerged—a testament to the healing properties of both water and time.

Bane leaned over the tub and offered me a bath sponge. “You’re going to have to scrub the bite marks to make sure no venom stays inside you.”

“Scrub them?” I surely had misheard him.

“Yes,” he said and brought the sponge to his arm pretending he was doing it to himself. “You know,” he added, sing-songy. “Scrub-scrub-scrub.”

I took the sponge, clutching it in my trembling hand, failing to grasp how I would manage to follow his order. “I – I can’t,” I shook my head. “It hurts too much.”

“Here,” he offered, taking the sponge from my trembling hand and squatting down next to the tub. “Let me.”

I gathered my hair to one side, over my shoulder, exposing my bitten neck for him to tend to. Bane submerged the sponge inside the blessed water and then pressed it softly against my wounded skin. Each move he made was measured, slow, tender, as if Bane carefully sought my consent at every step, allowing me enough time to react to everything he did.

A flinch escaped me as the sponge met the bruised, and was pressed against the torn flesh, but then Bane removed the sponge and replaced it with his long, careful fingers. He laid a gentle caress there—a touch that resonated with solace, calm, and unmistakable care.

A gasp involuntarily left my lips.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, urging him to continue. “Go on.”

His fingers trailed down my naked shoulder, leaving a path of wet warmth that ignited a soothing heat within me. As the sponge traversed my arm with unhurried precision, his thumb brushed against the side of my breast, up down, up down, an intimate, slow and deliberate contact that electrified my senses. Every nerve in my body attuned itself to his touch, my n*****s betraying my arousal in their hardened response. They were begging for his touch, his mouth, his tongue. Anything he was willing to use to please them. Attempting to shield them with my hand, I found it captured and held above me by Bane.

“Don’t,” he whispered. A spark of mischief in the amber depths of his eyes. “I have to wash this part too,” he declared, unwavering.

“Do you really?” I sighed.

He gave my wrist a squeeze. “Will you let me take care of you?”

I hesitated, but eventually relented. “Y-yes.”

He let my hand free, and passed over my breasts, the sponge's rough texture contrasting with the velvety touch of his fingers around my n*****s. I shivered. He noticed. Dropping the sponge, he shifted to squeezing and massaging my breasts, eliciting a response that pulsed through me.

“f**k,” I mouthed.

“Is this nice?” he asked, a subtle edge underscoring his voice.

“Mmm,” I moaned. “It is.”

His ministrations continued, traversing from my ribs to my stomach, fingers and nails grazing the soft skin, setting off a tingling cascade that reached down to my core and my throbbing c**t. It was the part yearning for his touch the most. My need was unbearable, unbeatable.

“Do you like that?” His voice was a soft breeze against my ear as he circled my belly button. I lay still, without resistance, indulging, giving in to him. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Do you want more?”

I nodded, but this wasn’t enough for him.

“Say it,” he urged, his soft whisper brushing against my skin, giving me gogooosebumps. “Say you want me to touch you.”

The fact he wasn’t simply taking what he obviously wanted confused me even as I hated him for making me say it. Would he really stop if I told him to? I’d never know. I couldn’t bring myself to resist him any longer. Would it be so horrible if I gave in? He was so seductive, so irresistible. And he was mine. All mine.

I took a small, shallow breath, and tremulously confessed, “I want you–”

I didn’t have enough time to conclude my sentence. Hearing me say I wanted him, I craved him, had done it for Bane Vilskansser. His lips claimed mine, a sudden, passionate interruption. I moaned against his mouth and his hot tongue flicked the edge of mine. Then he did it again, getting deeper, deeper inside my mouth. He only broke the kiss, when kissing wasn’t enough for either of us.

We both wanted more.

"Trust me?" he breathed against my skin.

“I trust you, Bane.”

“Spread your legs for me,” he said evenly.

Frightened and excited as ever before, I obeyed.