Текст книги "The wolf and the crown of blood"

Автор книги: Elizabeth May

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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

53

BRYONY

I DRAG MYSELF from the boat, the hard-won box pressed against my ribs, and every breath tastes of salt. The Asterian shore stretches before me—pale sand that glows faintly beneath the stars.

“Alexios, I’m ready.”

The shriek of gulls and the crash of waves fill the silence. Then ancient magic crackles over my skin as the Eternal of Asteria lands in a rustle of crimson and black feathers. Those burning eyes catalog every bruise, every tear in my leathers, every place the Dark King’s corpses grabbed and clawed and tried to drag me under. I probably look like something fished out of the harbor after a week.

“I see you found my little box,” he says. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Shove the box up your ass,” I snap. “You knew what you were throwing me into. The security, the missing demis, the fact that the Dark King would be there to fuck with me. You set me up to fail.”

A dark laugh rumbles from him. “Dangling you in front of Severin without protection was an opportunity too perfect to waste. I’ll admit, the odds weren’t exactly in your favor. The Blade gave you a nine percent chance of making it out alive.”

Nine? Guess Bastien really hates me.

“Give me back my Claim,” I say.

“Not yet. Another day without Evander’s mark should help you appreciate what you’re fighting for.” He crooks a finger, beckoning. “You have an audience waiting.”

I curl my fingers into my palm to keep from punching him in the face. “I’m not limping through another mob of demis out for my blood. I barely kept Evander from tearing half your court apart after yesterday.”

He chuckles. “Where would be the fun in a repeat performance? Come here, Bryony.”

Remember why you’re doing this, I tell myself. And who you’re doing it for.

Hating myself, I clutch the box to my chest tighter and allow Alexios to fold me into his arms, steeling myself as his wings spread wide.

He flies like a god with galaxies to burn and realms to raze. The landscape of Asteria blurs beneath us as he heads up the mountains to his palace, landing on the balcony of Evander’s palace bedroom.

“You”—I grab the nearest pillar to keep from falling—“are a maniac.”

“So I’ve been told. By people of more note.” He holds out one hand, imperious. “The box, little sacrifice.”

I hold out my prize. Some distant part of me marvels that the Dark King allowed me to have it. That he let me go because of Amara.

Alexios’ red eyes gleam as he accepts it and turns it in his hands.

“I bled for that,” I say. “Got throttled and tossed around by an actual god of death. I think I deserve to know what’s inside.”

The look he levels at me could melt the skin off my bones. “You deserve? Let me explain something to you, girl. You’re entitled to what I decide you’ve earned. Nothing more, nothing less. Until the end of my trials, you’re entertainment who just happens to be fucking my Enforcer.”

I clench my jaw so hard my back teeth grind together. I glance through the balcony’s open doors to the bed, but my Chosen is nowhere to be found. “Where’s Evander? Because I want a night with him. No chains, no magic cuffs. Just us.”

“I want many things in this dismal simulacrum of existence,” he replies conversationally, tucking the chest under his arm. “Peace in my realms. The luxury of not having to listen to mortals whine. Funny how rarely I lower myself to begging for any of it. You seem to be under the impression that this is a negotiation. It isn’t. You’ll see your Chosen soon.” He jerks his chin toward the bathing chamber. “Now go use the bath before I drown you in it.”

I’m about to argue, but something in his eyes stops me cold. The kind of flat, reptilian stillness that says he’s imagining all the creative ways he could end me.

So I shut up and obey.

Someone’s already prepared the bath for me. Steam rises off the water, and the surface is scattered with pale flower petals. The fragrance of citrus and roses permeates the air.

Well. At least this is one luxury I can appreciate.

I strip, trying not to look too closely at what my destroyed clothes reveal, but it’s impossible to ignore the purple bruises everywhere the Dark King’s corpses got their hands on me. At least he healed the necrosis, or I wouldn’t have a working left hand. Small mercies.

Sinking into the scalding water forces a hiss from between my teeth. I scrub myself raw and pink, washing away blood and grime and the lingering stench of decay.

When I finally step out, there’s a gown hanging from the door made of shining fabric that resembles liquid sunlight. I scowl as I hold it up.

“Is there another dress to choose from?” I call out to Alexios.

“No.” Curt. Final.

Asshole.

I step into it and begin tying up the little fastenings. The dramatic slits along both legs are held together by golden chains, and the plunging neckline and back meet at a choker-style collar that covers the Dark King’s bruises. If it weren’t for the shining filigree, I’d say it were something a pet would wear, which is probably the point. The translucent fabric is stitched with strategically placed jewels to hide the parts of me for Evander’s eyes only. Still, if I breathe wrong, someone is going to see my nipples.

I hate everything.

Alexios is standing on the balcony as I emerge. He turns, gaze drifting down my body, and I fight the urge to fidget beneath that intense red stare.

“Acceptable. I’m glad it fits.”

“It fits like you want everyone to see my ass when I walk, so I’ll go with ‘barely tolerable.’” I tug at the thin fabric where it dips too low between my breasts. “Is the collar a style choice or a punishment?”

He gives a mocking tilt of his head. “You know better than anyone that when I aim to send a message, I’m hardly subtle about it.”

“Yes, well”—I tug again—“I’m practically naked.”

“Would you prefer I send you out wearing nothing at all?”

I glare at him instead of answering. “How long until you give Evander’s mark back?”

“When we finish my tests.” His eyes drop to my wrist where his own Claim used to glow, and something dark passes across his face. “I heard you, you know. Every time you climbed onto that altar and cursed me in your thoughts. You were an irritating little shit.”

Ice floods my veins. “I wasn’t aware you could hear me through your Claim.”

“Not everything. Listening to every pathetic thought from thousands of Claimed would finish the job of driving me insane.” His wings shift restlessly. “But when they started worshipping you instead of coming to my temple, I listened. And when I found out the woman I thought I executed soulbonded with an Eternal willing to raze realms for her? I wondered just how far your ambitions went.” His voice drops lower, crueler. “Humans always have been grasping, greedy things, and the Wolf wouldn’t be the first god destroyed by a pretty face and a tight cunt.”

Fury detonates in my chest, and I get right up in his space. “I soulbonded with Evander because I love him. Because after you, the thought of another god’s mark on me made me want to claw my skin off. I died hundreds of times for your precious Shroud, and what did I get for my trouble? Abandonment and punishment because an emperor couldn’t control his people. I hated you then. I hate you now. And I’ll hate you until they put me in the ground.”

For a moment, I think he might kill me. The air between us hums with power, the smell of lightning growing stronger.

Then he laughs—a genuine sound that startles me more than his rage.

“I know.” His fingers brush against my cheek. I jerk away. “I tasted that hatred every time the knife opened you up. I could drink it.” Then he holds out his arm like we’re attending some grand ball. “Audience awaits, little sacrifice.”

I don’t move.

His eyes narrow. “Take my arm and walk with me, or I’ll grab you by that collar and make you crawl.”

I believe him. I’ve seen what he does to those who defy him.

So I take his arm and let him lead me through the corridors. “Just because I’m wearing this doesn’t make me a pet on a leash.”

“No,” he agrees, not looking at me. “Pets are easier to control.”

The palace stretches in a labyrinth of soaring archways, windows, and columns engraved with delicate filigree. I don’t know how he doesn’t get lost here, but I suppose you memorize things after seven thousand years.

Finally, Alexios stops before a pair of doors made from gleaming basalt. Gold embellishments twine across their surface like vines, nearly covering the pulsing glow of runes. The doors shudder open with an echoing groan.

The wave of noise hits first—a deafening crush of shouts and screams.

It’s an arena.

The circular structure stretches out before us. Marble columns rise hundreds of feet, their surfaces carved with scenes from ancient battles of gods locked in combat. Tiers of seats filled with hundreds of demis climb toward the open-air oculus, interspersed with platforms that float around the arena, suspended by nothing but magic.

“What is this place?” I ask Alexios.

“The Colosseum Eternal.” He gives me a wry smile. “Even gods need somewhere to settle their scores.”

The demis in the stands shout at our arrival, the wings forming a mosaic of colors against the stark architecture: ruby and gold, midnight blue and forest green, pure white and deepest black. The air crackles with their combined power, and their voices blend into a roar that bounces off the walls.

My attention turns to the arena’s fighting pit. Obstacles are set up throughout—columns and rocks that offer cover for attacks, some blackened and shattered from previous battles. At first glance, there’s nothing remarkable about the sand, but ancient runes flare beneath the surface in irregular patterns.

“Those runes down there,” I say, glancing at Alexios. “What do they do?”

“Contain the violence. Without them, every fight would level the palace.” Alexios gestures at the circular opening above us. “The barriers channel excess power upward, into the sky.”

My eyes catch on deep gouges in the pit wall. Scorch marks score the stone, the walls partially melted in some places to form black glass.

“The last time two Eternals fought here,” Alexios continues, “they cracked the foundations so badly we had to rebuild half the western section. This is where gods come to die, girl.”

He steers me toward a balcony jutting over the arena floor, where a pair of obsidian thrones dominate the dais. The larger is a jagged, spiked monstrosity that appears carved from living shadow. The other lacks its companion’s ornamentation but is no less imposing.

Alexios sprawls in the bigger chair. “Sit.”

I eye the empty throne. “It’s the same height as yours.”

“An Eternal’s Chosen takes a position of equal standing, even if I’d prefer you at my feet.” His expression frosts over. “Sit down, Bryony.”

I can think of about a hundred things I’d rather do than perch at his side, but I sink onto the throne all the same.

A screech of metal rends the air, and everyone turns toward the far end of the arena where a rusted gate shudders upward. A hush goes through the crowd.

And I know who I’m going to see stride out onto those killing sands. Because, of course, it would be him.

Evander walks into the pit, bare from the waist up, with magic-suppressing manacles glinting around his wrists. Straps of weapons cross his torso, framing gleaming skin and rippling muscle. His wings flare, stretching wide and catching the torchlight until the golden feathers seem to burn. All that coiled strength and beauty is honed to a lethal edge.

I can’t breathe past the panic clawing up my throat. “You said I’d pay his penance,” I snarl at Alexios. “We had a deal.”

“That was our agreement for Hellevig. This is about Scillari.” He cuts me a sidelong glance. “You know our realm is alive, don’t you? Aware?”

I give him a sharp nod, not trusting my voice.

“Then you need to understand that the Wolf’s been stable enough to have his leash off for years. But that means being a king, not a pretty killer who fucks and fights because it’s easier than ruling.” A low laugh. “Scillari picks its monarchs. And it doesn’t appreciate when a chosen king leaves its gifts to rot unused. He needs to show a pissed-off realm why he’s more worthy than any demi itching to wear his crown.”

I stare at the sands below. Armored demis are pouring into the arena with magic crackling in the air, ready to kill.

They circle Evander, over fifty against one. Sizing him up. Looking for vulnerable spots to drive the knife in deep and twist. But he just bares his teeth in a feral grin, amber eyes glowing.

“Tonight, those cuffs make it a fair fight for his challengers to prove themselves,” Alexios continues. “Those demis think he’s weak. They believe loving you has made him soft.”

My mouth dries up. “And you’re letting them think that?”

“I’m letting him prove them wrong.”

“If he loses?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

Alexios watches me, his expression cold. As if he blames me for this. “Then Severin, the Blade, and I will put him down. It’ll take all three of us at his power level.”

“You’ll kill him?” I ask, my stomach lurching.

“The realm would demand it. Weakness can’t rule.”

“But he—” My voice catches. “He can’t use his power. There are too many down there. He can’t—”

“He can.” Alexios pins me with that ruthless, red stare. “And he will. For you.”

Then he raises his hand—

And the demis attack.

One swings a massive war hammer, the head leaving traceries of lightning in its wake. Evander ducks beneath the crackling arc and comes up swinging. His dagger flashes once. Twice. His opponent crumples to the sand with a slit throat.

Evander doesn’t pause to savor his victory. He’s already moving, surging to meet the next wave of attackers. A demigoddess with obsidian wings sends shadows swelling from the ground to grasp for his legs, but he lets the darkness catch him, using the momentum to launch himself into a backflip that brings him down behind another opponent. His blade finds the sweet spot between armor plates before they can turn.

The air around the third demi shimmers like a heat haze before coalescing into a barrage of glass shards that hurtle toward him. Evander throws up his wings, and the projectiles ping off his feathers before tinkling to the arena floor. Then he sweeps low and takes out his attacker’s knees.

It only gets bloodier from there.

Evander is feral grace. His knives sing as he paints the sands red. But for every demi he cuts down, another takes their place. The blows are taking their toll, his movements losing fluidity as exhaustion sets in, no doubt sped up by the damn cuffs.

My pulse is too fast. I can barely concentrate on the fighting below. Meanwhile, Alexios lounges beside me, just… observing. Emotionless.

“Did he ever tell you why we call him the Wolf?” Alexios’ voice filters through the static. Soft. Gentle, almost. I wonder if he’s trying to distract me.

I swallow before replying. “He said he earned the name.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. Before the war, he was a good prince. A scholar. He had his mother’s love of books and art. But that was before humans taught my kind that a crown makes fine kindling and a god’s heart is a delicacy to be devoured.”

A wet, meaty thunk wrenches my focus to the pit below. The crowd cheers as Evander takes down five more demis in quick succession. He’s brutal. Blood coats his armor, his skin. This is a god of battle at work.

“Is there a point to the history lesson?” I ask flatly. “Or is this just another excuse to hear yourself talk?”

“I was there when the Wolf earned his name. At the battle of Sul’achan.”

My blood turns to ice.

Every child in Vartena knows Sul’achan. How Luceni’s legion stood against the Scillari host in the Riverlands. The bards never could agree on the finer details, but they all ended the same way—with the River Wartos running red and bodies piled so high, they blotted out the sun.

Alexios tilts his head, considering. “Five thousand human soldiers, and Evander didn’t even reach for a weapon. He waded into those killing fields and ripped them apart with his bare hands and teeth like an animal. But that’s war, isn’t it? Strip away the civilization, and we’re all just beasts in too-small skin. The only thing standing between you and the Void is how loudly you can howl, how deep you can dig, and how viciously you can bite.”

I can’t look away from the arena.

A demi wielding twin swords forces Evander toward the wall. But instead of retreating, he runs three steps up the vertical surface before launching himself over his opponent’s head, wings snapping out. His primary feathers slice clean through his enemy’s neck.

The sands are red now. There are so many corpses that he has to step on them.

“After the battle,” Alexios says, “I found him crouched over a gutted soldier, gnawing at the poor bastard’s throat. He was called Blaze once, did he tell you? A strong name for a strong prince who could manipulate heat and bend light to his will. But that was a different time. A kinder one.”

As if to punctuate his point, Evander spins and buries his sword in a demi’s gut.

I see his guard drop a fraction of a second too late—the way his opponent pivots, leading Evander to bare his flank. The wet shunk as the dagger hits its mark.

I shove to my feet. But before I can take a step, Alexios hauls me against his chest.

“Watch,” he hisses in my ear. “Watch him fight for you, bleed for you. The depravities he’ll commit in your name. This is what’s left when you peel back a god’s civility, little sacrifice. We kill for our Chosen. We butcher for what’s ours.”

Evander whirls and shoves his blade through the last demi’s throat.

Silence falls over the Colosseum. The crowd seems to hold its collective breath—then the demis are bowing, acknowledging their better.

Their king.

My Chosen stands alone in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving, blood painting his skin and dripping from his wings to stain the sand at his feet. He raises his head, his eyes seeking mine across the distance.

I wrench free from Alexios’ grasp and run down the balcony steps, vaulting over the low wall that separates the stands from the arena floor. I try not to focus on the bloody sand as my feet hit the ground.

Evander meets me halfway and crushes me against him. The metallic tang of gore fills my nose, but I hold him tightly anyway, my fingers pressing into the matted feathers of his wings. He groans softly.

Alexios’ voice sounds from behind me. “Nice show, Wolf.”

Flames flash in Evander’s eyes as he angles his body between me and the god-king. Then he sags against me, his face finding the crook of my neck as he drags my scent into his lungs like he’s starving for it.

His teeth find my pulse and dig deep enough to sting. I gasp as I clutch him closer. He bites down again, a firmer pressure.

When his hand circles my wrist where his Claim should be, I understand. The severed bond is an open wound that needs tending.

Alexios watches with a smirk. “An Eternal fresh off a victory needs to mark his mate,” he tells me. “It’s as necessary as air. He just killed and bled for the right to keep you. Let him bite. Let him know you’re his.”

“He knows I’m his,” I say. “That I’ll always be his.”

“But do they?” He jerks his chin at the silent crowd. “They’re not bowing for you, girl.”

I freeze.

He makes a thoughtful noise. “You’re a human asking to be his queen. How do you think that plays out if the demis don’t see you both earn each other?” He doesn’t wait for my reply before he’s striding forward to pry Evander off me. “No biting,” he says sharply when Evander’s lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl. “She’s coming with us. And you?” His nose wrinkles. “You’re getting washed down before you step one foot in my palace.”

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54

BRYONY

WHERE ARE WE going?” I ask Alexios.

The god-king doesn’t turn as he leads us down the dark tunnel below the arena. There’s no ornamentation along the walls, just glittering black stone and the rush of water in the distance.

“There’s a spring under the palace. The magic will heal the Wolf while those shackles keep his power locked down.”

The passageway opens into a cavern. Crystals cover the walls, refracting the luminous turquoise of the waters as if we’re standing inside a geode. Steam rises in lazy tendrils from the surface, carrying the scent of salt and minerals. And in the center of it all is a pool, perfectly round and glowing from within. So clear, I can see straight to the bottom.

Evander leans into my side with a pained grunt. His breaths are harsh and labored. Fresh blood oozes from the vicious slashes and punctures littering his skin.

“Is he okay?” I ask Alexios. “He’s not speaking.”

“He goes nonverbal when he’s like this.” His gaze drops to where Evander’s fingers dig into my hip. “Strip down, Princess. Your soulbond’s blocked, and he just slaughtered fifty demis for you. He needs skin contact to ground himself.” When I hesitate, he sighs impatiently. “There’s only one female in this realm whose body interests me, and it’s not you. Just do it.”

I grit my teeth and reach for my dress’ collar to undo the buckle. The gown falls to my feet, and cool air kisses my skin. My nipples pebble in the chill.

When I look up, Evander’s pupils have blown wide, only a thin ring of molten amber visible around the edges. The weight of that burning gaze rakes over me. His hands flex at his sides, as if barely leashing the urge to grab me.

“Now him,” Alexios tells me.

I step closer to Evander. The bond may be shuttered between us, but I swear I can feel him—the dissonant thrum of hunger vibrating through him. The need.

Holding his fevered stare, I ghost my touch over his chest and follow the valley of his sternum down until I snag on the fastener securing his weapons low on his hips. I hesitate when a growl rumbles out of him.

He seizes my wrist and squeezes in warning, the pressure just shy of pain.

I’m not in control, that movement says. Don’t let me hurt you.

“Damn,” Alexios mutters. “Of course you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Then why don’t you show me?”

“Fine.” He moves behind me. “There’s an art to dealing with a feral god. Follow my lead.”

He pries Evander’s fingers loose. I inhale sharply as his chest presses to my back. He reaches around me to slide his hands over mine, guiding me to the complicated clasps.

“First thing to remember,” he breathes in my ear. “Showing fear makes us want to chase. Without the bond, he’s running on instinct, and right now, you smell like prey.”

I hold still, letting Alexios guide my hands. He’s quick, almost forceful as he shoves a sheath off Evander’s shoulders.

“Any hesitation makes us think you’re weak.” Alexios forces my hands lower, to the fastening of Evander’s trousers. “Weak things get eaten.”

Evander’s eyes track every movement, muscles coiled tight. Lethal and utterly beautiful.

Alexios’ breath is warm against my nape. “See the way he’s looking at you? If I hadn’t cut your bond, he would have fucked you in all that blood,” he whispers. “That’s what we do.”

A shiver goes through me. “Trying to scare me off?”

“Just preparing you for reality.” A pause as we push Evander’s trousers down his hips. “You’re doing good.”

Heat crawls up my cheeks, but I say nothing.

Together, we divest him of blood-splattered leathers and weapons until he stands bare. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Even naked and covered in blood, he’s beautiful. His cock is hard, and he’s staring with the sort of desire that says he wants to consume me.

Alexios gives Evander a light shove toward the pool. “Get in the water while I teach your princess how to handle you.” He glances at me. “You too. Keep eye contact with him.”

The water is warm as I ease into it, like sliding into a bath. Evander’s wings drag along the surface as he moves closer, his stare holding mine, ravenous. I back up until my spine hits the pool’s edge, trapped between stone and six-plus feet of barely controlled god.

“Stop running.” Alexios settles on the pool’s edge, rolling up his sleeves. “He needs to know you won’t fall apart right now.”

“I’m not—”

Evander’s hands slam against the stone on either side of my head, caging me in. This close, I can see the thin ring of gold still fighting against the black of his pupils.

“Hi,” I whisper, reaching up to touch his face.

He turns into my palm, dragging his teeth across my skin. Not quite a bite, but close enough to make me shiver.

“Wash him,” Alexios tells me, sounding bored. “The water will heal the injuries.”

I cup my hands and sluice some liquid over him, soothing the hurts as best I can, cleaning his skin and wings with careful strokes. Some of the minor wounds begin to close under my ministrations.

Alexios reaches down to card his fingers through Evander’s wet hair. A shudder rolls through my Chosen at the touch, his eyes squeezing shut like it’s almost too much. The god-king’s grip tightens in silent reprimand when Evander tries to twist away.

Alexios’ molten gaze cuts to me, pinning me in place. “An Eternal fresh from slaughter needs someone strong enough to bring him back. Show me you know how to kiss your Chosen.”

I hesitate as I stare at Evander’s upturned face. At the need radiating from him. Even during Aethertide, he wasn’t this raw, this savage. Gliding my fingers into his hair, I cup his face in my palms and press my mouth to his in a slow, exploring caress.

Evander surges against me with a snarl to crush me closer, and I freeze, my hands resting uncertainly on his shoulders.

The god-king makes a chiding sound behind us. “That’s not the kind of kiss he needs from you right now, Princess.” Alexios grips Evander’s hair and wrenches him back from me, leaning down to graze his lips over his cheek. “I’m going to show her how it’s done,” he whispers. “Get her all nice and ready for you.”

Then Alexios is claiming Evander’s mouth with the kind of searing intensity that makes the breath catch in my lungs. It’s filthy and merciless. Brutal and deep. Possessing and owning him so completely, there’s no space left for anything else.

Evander arches in Alexios’ bruising hold. A harsh growl builds in his chest, and the sound vibrates through me, an answering heat spiking low in my core. But the god-king only grips him tighter, one hand twisting in his hair while the other digs into his jaw. Alexios angles Evander just the way he wants and keeps kissing him. Biting his lower lip and soothing the sting with his tongue.

When the god-king finally pulls back, Evander’s pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving.

“That’s how you kiss a god who just killed for you,” Alexios says, voice rough. He kisses Evander again and breathes, “Like you’ll die if you don’t. Like you’ll destroy anyone who tries to take him from you.”

Like you’ll die if you don’t.

And I know what he’s telling me. What Evander needs from me. Take what’s yours.

So I yank Evander toward me and surge up to claim his lips, savoring the unique taste that’s purely him. He groans softly as his hands map my curves, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He’s trying to relearn me by touch, by taste, making up for the severed bond the only way he can right now.

“Less gentle,” Alexios hisses. “Bite him, Bryony. Make him bleed for you.”

Obedience has never come naturally to me, but this? This is as easy as breathing. I sink my teeth into Evander’s bottom lip, and the copper-bright taste of his blood floods my mouth. His palms skim my sides to rest on the dip of my waist, yanking me close.

Alexios leans in, whispering, “He fought for you, Princess. He killed for a chance to keep you. So get on your knees and show him he’s your god.”

Yes.

I rake my nails down Evander’s chest, loving the way he arches into the sting, starving for it. I shove him backward, and he goes easily, letting me press him against the smooth rock ledge.

“Up,” I command. “Sit on the edge.”

Hunger flares in his expression, but he complies, leveraging himself out of the pool to settle beside Alexios.

I move until I’m poised between his legs. With my eyes locked on his, I go to my knees in the shallows, the water lapping gently at the small of my back. I glide my fingers up his thighs. When I wrap my hand around his cock, his breath hisses through clenched teeth, and the sound shoots straight between my legs.

Those burning eyes never leave mine as I bend to drag the flat of my tongue over his cock, licking the salty tang of his arousal. Savoring the taste of him.

His hands cup my head, urging me down. Not gentle. Not asking. He’s past the point of permission, and honestly, so am I. So I let him take what he needs. I hollow my cheeks and suck, reveling in each desperate thrust as he grips my hair and fucks into my mouth. I relax my jaw and throat, letting him hit the back on every glide.

This is a Claiming in its own way. An act of worship. Of absolution. I inscribe my devotion into his skin with lips and tongue and careful scrapes of teeth. Over and over until I’m lost to the slick heat of him in my mouth.

A dark satisfaction settles into Alexios’ features as my eyes meet his. As he watches me take and give in equal measure.

“He’ll remember this,” Alexios says. “The way you submitted for him. The way you took him so deep when he needed to claim you.”

The water sloshes around us. I dig my nails into Evander’s thighs, offering myself up as the altar for his need. Breaking him just to build him back up. Sending messages without words. Use me. My hand slides down his cock, stroking. Let me have it. I go down, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. I can take it.

Alexios bends forward and breathes in my ear, “Pleasure is another form of prayer. Tell me, little sacrifice. How holy do you feel right now?”

Lost in this moment, in the slick push-pull of mine-yours-ours, I feel powerful. Like if I reached up to trace constellations, the stars would bend to accommodate my whims. Like I’m as eternal as the two males watching me. This is a kind of revelation—a god coming undone by my lips, my touch. There’s a certain brutal grace in his abandon. In the little hitches in his breath, his hips lifting to thrust his cock deeper, his hand tightening in my hair when I get the right suction and movement. He’s rough and reverent, controlled and fierce, all that need spilling out between us.