Oxytocin flowed into her, a dam as pure and intoxicating as brandy erupting from the lake of the lordling’s life force, now a river flowing from him to her. She arched her back, opening her mouth in a gasp, the delicious drug filling her veins, her capillaries, her lungs. Her hips thrust with the electricity, draining the river, sucking it dry. The hard, thick rod of dopamine and serotonin and heart and soul throbbed within her as she moved. Her back relaxed from his groan of ecstasy, and she saw the light in his eyes begin to dim. The lordling’s body went limp as she rode him. His eyes remained open; his mouth slackened.

“Fuck.”

She looked at him and frowned, doing little to conceal her disappointment. Controlling this part was more art than science. Her euphoria had felt a bit like a feeding frenzy each time she consumed the oxytocin, but she was learning to tame it.

“Goddess damn you, you’re not even going to let me finish?” Nox glared at him, frustrated over the climax she’d been denied. She took several calming breaths and forced herself to stop. She wanted to continue. She wanted to drink deeply from this well until nothing was left, but she rarely got what she wanted. This mission was too important for her wants.

The duke looked back, unseeing.

“Well, you didn’t last nearly as long as you promised. I thought I was supposed to be pleasured all night,” she said, half-amused, still pulsing with the cocktail made solely of bliss, thirst, and chemistry. Her head vibrated pleasurably, but she’d need to clear her thoughts if she had any hope of getting things done tonight.

“Come on.” She slapped him a few times on the face, then checked his pulse, the dying duke’s semi-stiff manhood still inside her. He wasn’t dead, but he was close.

Perhaps she had gone a bit too far, as was easy to do when she found herself drunk on the power. This part had gotten easier with time, but she still struggled. She needed him alive if her ownership was to mean anything. Even without the young duke, she’d still make her way to Yelagin, but it would be much easier to have a puppet titleholder carving a path for her. She needed to steady herself and think rationally. As much as she wanted to cling to every drop, it was worth sparing a spark or two for the mission.

She slipped from the wet grip within her, but her legs remained planted on each side of his hips in a straddle.

Nox leaned down to the young lord’s mouth, planting her lips gently on his. She breathed a droplet of life back into the duke and watched the faintest spark of candlelight reignite behind his otherwise listless, caramel eyes.

“There you are,” she purred, satisfied.