32. Mercy
32
MERCY
W olfgang drags me by the wrist all the way down to the secret quarters which are specially designed for these types of dire eventualities, located deep under Mount Pravitia.
The attack has left me feeling awry. The dull throb on my forehead reminds me I survived with every heartbeat, but I haven’t been able to form a single rational thought since the stage crumbled under my feet. I should have acted quicker—should have deciphered death’s plan much earlier than mere seconds before the blast. I was distracted. Unable to distinguish what was important from what was just inane and frivolous emotions toward the man now opening the door to the underground quarters.
As I step inside, my mind lingers on Gemini and how he appears to have vanished after the blast. I can’t console myself knowing he’s alive since my power doesn’t work on him. Even if it were his time to die, my god would have kept it from me. I would have never known it was coming.
What if Gemini is dead?
And I am the cause.
“We’re damned,” I mutter out loud.
I’m not necessarily addressing Wolfgang, I just need the words to live outside of me before they slowly asphyxiate me. But since he’s the only one here, he turns to study me, concern darkening his face, the silence just as dire as the words I’ve spoken.
I quickly glance around the receiving room. I take in my surroundings for the first time, having only taken a few steps inside. Aside from the air being musty, it appears clean and well-kept, the servants keeping it spotless for times like these—no matter the improbability. The room is a dark shade of purple, with two large divans facing each other atop a sprawling rectangular rug.
The quarters are smaller than what we’re accustomed to but designed to be self-sufficient. Aside from the cramped receiving room, the shelter includes a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen which is fully stocked with food to last us at least a year.
Not that we’ll need to stay anywhere close to that long. I’m sure only a few hours will suffice. The assumption lingers like dead weight in my chest. Maybe the threat is much bigger than I’m letting on.
What if it’s longer?
My attention wearily returns to Wolfgang while his gaze lingers on the cut near my temple. It smarts under his quiet appraisal, and I lift my hand to idly touch the drying blood.
“It needs to be cleaned,” he says softly, nodding his chin toward my face.
There’s a note of concern attached to his words that stings more than the wound itself.
He takes a step closer and my first reflex is to take a step back.
“I can do it myself,” I snap defensively.
Wolfgang’s expression morphs into something a lot more irritated, his lips pressing into a thin line, but says nothing. He glares, and I glare back. There’s safety in this dynamic.
A loaded stare later, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other but can’t conceal the wince fast enough. My eyes drop to his thigh.
“You’re bleeding,” I state as if he wasn’t already aware.
I ignore the pinch in my heart at the sight of Wolfgang injured.
His short laugh is dry and cutting. “Quite astute, Crèvecoeur.” He steps further into the receiving room, resting gingerly on the edge of the back of the divan, facing me. “Maybe next time, you can give me a fair warning.”
My eyes narrow, my heartbeat spiking. “Fair warning?”
Crossing his arms, he gives me a look he typically reserves for dimwitted plebeians. His mouth slowly curls into a snarl. “Or maybe you hoped my time had come along with all the rest.”
I stare at him while his words settle into my psyche like feathers on tar. “Foolish gnat,” I spit, charging toward him. “Do you think the gods are favoring me at a moment like this? Do you not think I’m just as blind to our gods’ plans as you are after what we did?”
He pushes himself off the edge of the divan to stand at his full height, his tongue smoothing over his teeth.
“After what we did?” he repeats with a growl. Now face to face, Wolfgang slowly crowds me inch by creeping inch. I need to lift my chin ever so slightly to hold his gaze but continue to stand firmly in place, my chest heaving with every rapid breath. His eyes are crazed, a raised vein pulsing in his neck. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a selfish cunt.”
He says the words slowly and intentionally, and they cut deeper than I would have ever expected. My palm connects with his cheek, his head swiveling to the side with the impact.
There’s a pregnant pause as he begins to laugh coldly, head still slanted. He wipes the corner of his mouth, his fingers stained red by a split lip. I don’t bother moving. I’m stuck here with him either way.
But then his icy blue eyes lift to mine, and the threat I find in his stare has my survival instincts uncharacteristically kicking in. Without a conscious thought, I turn away and try to run but only make it a few steps before his large palm grabs me by the neck.
He swivels me around to face him while I struggle to break free and do the first thing that comes to mind, and slam my fist into his injured thigh.
He groans out in pain but doesn’t let go.
Instead, my move backfires.
While Wolfgang is momentarily destabilized, he transfers all his weight onto me, and we pitch backward, slamming down onto the hard floor. I get the wind knocked out of me, but I try to fight back knowing he’ll most likely go for my dagger. But even with his injured leg, he’s still stronger than me.
Pinning my hands to the ground with one hand, he climbs on top of me, his legs bracketing my body as he holds me down. Even with me fighting against it, his free hand bunches up my dress and grabs my dagger in seconds.
Expecting him to threaten me with it, I’m taken aback when he throws it across the room in one swift move of his arm. I hear it clang against the stone wall, and I stop struggling just long enough to shoot him a distrustful look. “Why would you—” I begin to say but Wolfgang cuts me off and grips the side of my face with his palm.
“If we’re already damned like you claim we are,” he says low and dark, fingers digging into my cheeks. His face is serious but the corner of his mouth curls into a bitter smile. “Then killing you is not how I want to meet my death.”
His mouth slams into mine. The kiss is unforgiving, feverish and I can taste the sweet tang of his blood from his split lip. The taste of him has me dropping all pretense, relieved that Wolfgang has cracked his mask open so I can do the same with mine.
I kiss him back just as hungrily.
He frees me from under his hard grip, both hands now cradling my face while his cock digs into my hip, his entire body now weighing me down. Our tongues interlace, and the more I devour his kiss, the more I starve for all of him.
If this is what it tastes like to die, then there is a reason why I worship the god of death.
Pulling away, Wolfgang sits on his knees, concealing a flinch from what is still a bleeding wound on his thigh. I move to touch it, compelled by some uncontrollable tenderness, but he slaps my hand away.
“Don’t,” he growls while he tugs his suit jacket off, revealing a tattered white shirt underneath. “Not now.”
Out of spite, I push a thumb into the gash and Wolfgang hisses loudly before his hand wraps around my throat, slamming me back down onto the cold marble, the rings from my chainmail corset digging into my skin. “Hateful little thing,” he seethes, ripping my thong off with his other hand, his face inches from mine. “You deserve nothing but misery.”
“You make me sick,” I spit, my nails digging into his hand. But the more he squeezes the air out of my lungs, his fingers wrapped tightly around my neck, the more my legs open for his forceful touch, my thighs wet with arousal. Keeping me pinned down, his arm fully extended, he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down just enough to free his cock.
“If I am your sickness, my ruin,” he groans through clenched teeth, looming darkly over me, his disheveled hair falling over his wild eyes while the head of his cock notches against my slick entrance, “Then you are mine.”
He slams into me in one powerful thrust, my head hitting the floor beneath me as a long keening moan escapes my lips.
“ Fuck ,” Wolfgang says under his breath, his head falling into the crook of my neck as he stills inside of me for a few shaky exhales. “ Fuck ,” he repeats, this time much more harshly. When he begins to piston into me with hard, punishing strokes, I feel myself drench around him, soaking his cock with the gut-wrenching pleasure of finally having him inside of me.
He releases my neck and pushes himself up on one elbow, his dark gaze now scorching before he captures my mouth with his again. Bending one of my legs upward, he opens me wider, deepening the angle of his thrusts while the heel of my stiletto digs into his ass. My whimper is brimming with need as I bite his bottom lip until the taste of his blood is back on my tongue where it belongs. We both seem to have lost all manner of speaking, victims of the one thing we swore we’d never desire.
Each other.
With every mind-melting glide of his cock, I turn more desperate, ripping open his buttoned shirt just so my fingertips can find purchase over his heated skin. Just so I can feel the bite of my nails into his flesh.
Somewhere between life, death, and Wolfgang’s undeniable effect on me, I begin to bargain with whichever god dares to listen. I plead and beg, and implore.
Let us have this without any consequences.
Let us indulge in the forbidden until we’ve had our fill.
The gods have their own laws. Why can’t we?
Breaking our embrace, Wolfgang peers into my eyes, his thumb stroking my burning cheek and I can suddenly see all the same desperate demands reflected back at me.
“May the gods have mercy on me,” he says quietly.
The squeeze in my chest threatens to become the one thing that actually kills me, so I shove Wolfgang off, making him flip onto his back so I can straddle him, now desperate for some semblance of control. My hands land flat on his chest while his fingers clutch onto my hips. My head falls backward, and I close my eyes, effectively shutting out Wolfgang and his maddening, seeking gaze. I grind myself on him, his grunts long and deep as I fuck his cock until I begin to feel myself unravel.
“Wolfgang,” I moan almost in shock, my eyes snapping open to find his dumbfounded gaze locked on mine, mouth slightly parted. I’m unable to find any other words to utter before my orgasm rips through me with uncontrollable desire. But Wolfgang doesn’t give me the time to experience it all the way through before flipping me back onto the floor and fucking me with renewed passion.
“My terrible demise,” Wolfgang says into the shell of my ear. “My ruinous mistake.” He kisses me one last time, his hot, searching tongue just as intoxicating as before, and my orgasm crests once more, my pussy squeezing again and again around his cock.
I feel Wolfgang shudder, groaning into my mouth as he comes deep inside of me.
And it takes me every last bit of my sanity not to cry out for this moment to last forever.
Because now that it has ended, we’ve certainly condemned our fate.