Chapter 6 Forged to Claim
Forged to Claim
Aion
The side chamber in Phix’s den felt entirely too small. Towering shelves of cedar and iron decorated the dark stone walls, almost hiding them from view. Lining the narrow aisles, thousands of scrolls and leather-bound books held centuries of quiet observations in their cracked spines.
As I moved through the tight spaces, my broad shoulders brushed against the wood.
The thick rugs protested when my heavy feet sank into the material.
I stopped before a stack of journals bound in weathered oxhide.
The writing wasn’t like my father’s, and the alien penmanship distantly visible on the scrolls made me feel even more ill at ease.
This was Phix’s den. It was the home of the sphinx who had taken my mate, stepping in to save her when I could not. I felt as unprepared for today as I’d been for the outburst of energy that had given me a mind.
But for Medea, I could do anything. I believed that. And so, I waited.
Please, let this work. Please let this ruse be enough for us to have a future.
I didn’t have to wait for long. The heavy wooden door creaked open, and the stagnant air snapped with a sudden, lethal charge.
I turned, and there she was, just as I’d hoped.
Medea stood on the threshold, looking at me as if I were everything she’d ever dreamed of.
Her silver hair clung to her damp forehead, catching the dim light of the amber crystals.
Before I could take a single step, she crossed the room and threw herself against me.
I welcomed her into my arms, the death energy that flowed through me instantly responding to her presence. She held me tight and pressed her face against my chest. “Aion. I can’t believe it. You’re really here.”
I gathered her up, supporting her weight as I pulled her close. The contact struck deep into my core. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I promised you safety, yet I stood in the crowd and watched. I couldn’t protect you, not really. I failed you.”
She pulled back and looked up at me, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Stop.” She gripped my forearms, pressing her fingers hard into my skin.
The death energy coursing through my veins surged to meet her.
“You saved me, Aion. The bride market is only a means to an end. It’s your touch and your warmth that keep me here. Keep me real.”
“Skaros—”
“Skaros is a name on a piece of parchment,” she interrupted.
She was so small and delicate in my arms, but there was nothing fragile about her determination.
“He told me the truth in the garden. It’s not something he’s proud of, Aion, but he doesn’t want me.
My presence merely keeps his secrets safe. ”
It was a little strange to think that for decades, Skaros had kept his true nature hidden from Theron and me.
I wouldn’t have blamed him, even if I’d known the truth.
But what mattered now was that he could help Medea, even when I could not.
“He is my friend. He is doing this for himself, yes, but also for me. For us.”
A part of me was resentful of it—resentful that even Skaros, who couldn’t truly claim a bride, had the right to enter the market. But I couldn’t cling to that anger, not with Medea in my arms.
Medea must have agreed with me, because she shot me a tremulous smile. “We have a chance now, Aion. I admit I was afraid of today, of Skaros, of the market. But I realize now… This is a good thing. This is our own personal miracle.”
Her strength humbled me. If I’d been human, I might have staggered, lost my balance, and fallen over under the weight of her fierceness.
Instead, I lowered her slowly until her bare feet touched the rugs, keeping my hands on her waist. An unbearable hunger settled into my center, and I couldn’t bear to be separated from her.
Medea tipped her head back. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted to my eyes. Tangling my fingers in the silk of her hair, I slid one hand up her spine and gently tilted her face up to mine.
She let out a soft, shuddering breath as I brought my mouth down to hers.
The first touch was hesitant. A quiet, reverent testing of a boundary she had never been allowed to cross. We’d almost kissed on the docks before Phix’s arrival. There was no one to interrupt us now.
Her lips were soft, yielding, and searing hot. I tasted the sharp, stinging edge of her curse—the raw power that withered flowers and stopped hearts. But it merely washed over my skin, harmlessly absorbed by the eternal nature of my existence.
Medea made a desperate, broken sound in the back of her throat. Realizing she was safe, she rose sharply onto her toes, pressed her body against mine, and opened her mouth.
I kissed her more deeply, stealing her breath.
I tasted the bitter trace of her tears and the intoxicating heat of her mouth.
She swept her tongue against mine, her hands slipping to the back of my neck.
Every point of contact between her soft flesh and my hard skin burned with a bright, consuming heat.
I didn’t have a thread the Moirae could bind, but the soul bond recognition was still there. Every fiber of my being still screamed, “Mate.” I hadn’t doubted it, not really, but tasting the confirmation still brought me so much relief.
We broke apart, breathing heavily. Medea’s eyes were dark, blown wide with a hunger that mirrored the aching need in my own core. She took a slow step back. Her trembling hands moved to the front of her robes, catching the simple cloth ties.
“I want this.” She undid the knot, refusing to let me look away. “All of me. All of you. No more barriers. No more roles.”
The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling in a dark heap at her feet. She stood before me in the dim light, completely bare. Her skin was flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and she was all mine.
I had no garments to shed. I was a vessel forged by my father, meant to remain static, built to contain the crushing weight of our city. But the fragile soul that had awakened inside me demanded a connection my current body lacked.
The thrumming warmth in my chest began to sink, pooling lower in my body with a desperate ache. I understood the biological mechanics of desire. My soul needed her, and my living metal obeyed. I could forge myself anew. To claim her, as she deserved.
For Medea, I thought, and the bronze between my thighs grew impossibly hot.
For Medea, I repeated to myself as the metal reshaped itself into a thick, heavy cock.
The shaft expanded and lengthened until I was fully, painfully erect. It pulsed with a dense ache, the newly etched veins glowing as my body responded to my mate’s closeness.
Medea gasped softly. She looked down at my massive, fully formed erection, her dark eyes widening in the shadows. She didn’t retreat. She didn’t show a single ounce of fear at the sight of a colossal monster reshaping his anatomy for her. She looked utterly starving.
Stepping closer, she sank to her knees on the rugs. Her silver hair spilled over her bare shoulders. First, she traced the heated length of my shaft with her fingertips.
“Aion,” she murmured, her breath ghosting hot across my cock.
She wrapped her small hand firmly around my heavy girth.
I stiffened instantly. A rough groan tore from my throat, vibrating through the quiet room. The sensation struck all the way into my marrow. I’d never felt my own spine, not like this. With her touching me, it was as if I truly had the nerve endings of a human.
Her palm was a furnace, and the slick friction of her hand ripped a violent shudder from my frame. Leaning forward, Medea parted her lips and took the broad head of my cock into her mouth.
I reached blindly for the edge of a nearby bookshelf. The wood splintered in my hand as my vision completely fractured. Every swirl of her tongue, every sucking glide of her lips sent a ringing hum through my body. She drew me down her throat, the slapping sounds echoing loudly in the quiet den.
I tipped my head back against the cold stone wall, letting out a harsh, broken breath.
The intoxicating vacuum of her lips drew the molten pleasure straight down from my chest. I pumped my hips forward instinctively, sliding my shaft deeper into the wet heat of her mouth.
She took the massive length of me eagerly, humming as she swallowed me down.
That small, dirty, incredibly human sound completely unraveled my control. The pressure in my body was building far too fast. I ached with a heavy, throbbing weight that demanded to be buried completely inside her.
Reaching down, I gently gripped her bare, sweat-slicked shoulders and pulled her up from her knees. A shimmering string of saliva connected her lips to the head of my shaft.
She stood before me, panting heavily. Her lips were swollen and slick with my arousal. And in the end, I was still a monster of Asphodelia, because I could no longer hold back. “Medea… I want to claim you.”
I hadn’t bought her at the bride market. By Asphodelia’s laws, she belonged to Skaros. But in our hearts, that didn’t matter.
“Yes,” she whispered fiercely. “Make me yours. Always yours.”
She gripped my forearms for balance and guided me backward toward a wide stone dais.
Thick pelts covered the cold stone. I followed her lead, my hands sliding down the smooth curve of her back to grip her round hips.
She pushed gently against my chest, urging me to sit on the edge of the furs.
I complied and leaned back. My bulk could easily crush her, but like this… Like this, we could be together.
Medea stepped between my spread legs. Swinging one pale leg over my thighs, she knelt directly over my heavy, aching cock.
She reached down, her slick fingers guiding the blunt bronze tip to her swollen center. Then she lowered her hips with agonizing, deliberate slowness.
As her tight, searing wetness enveloped the head of my shaft, a profound groan ripped from my chest. I had been forged to withstand the destructive forces of the world, yet nothing could have prepared me for the devastating, gripping heat of her body.
The solid, unyielding bronze stretched her soft, delicate flesh, filling her completely.
Gripping her narrow waist, I guided her first upward movement.
When Medea sank down again, she took my entire rigid length deep inside her.
Her soft thighs bracketed my hips. The slick friction dragged a beautiful, shattered cry from her throat.
Medea threw her head back, her silver hair whipping wildly over her bare shoulders.
With every stroke, the slick heat of her inner muscles clamped down hard around me. My skin warmed to a near-molten temperature as she rode me.
I thrust upward, burying my heavy shaft deep into her wet core. She clung to my shoulders, anchoring herself against my chest as she took the brutal, stretching friction of my cock. The air grew thick with the heavy scent of our sex—hot skin, slick fluids, and the sharp tang of arousal.
“Aion!” she gasped out, leaning forward until her soft, sweat-slicked breasts pressed firmly against my chest. Burying her face in the crook of my neck, she ground her soaking center hard against the base of my shaft. “I can feel you… I can feel how deep you are.”
I wrapped my arms around her back, pulling her flush against me as I increased the brutal, driving pace. “I am yours,” I rumbled against her temple, thrusting up and bottoming out completely inside her tight heat. “Everything I am.”
My movements became urgent, driven by a primal, possessive lust that I had never known existed within me.
Every slick slide of my cock stretching her tight walls drew out a new, aching level of pleasure.
I could feel the raw energy pooling in my center, seeking release in answer to the desperate sounds of the woman riding me.
I had lived for so long without desire, but in this moment, I existed entirely to be inside her.
Medea’s grip on my shoulders tightened to the point of bruising. Her inner walls suddenly clamped down around me with an agonizing, vise-like grip. Her entire body began to tremble with a fine, uncontrollable vibration.
“Aion, now!” she cried out, her whole body convulsing as she climaxed around my shaft.
She arched her back, her spine snapping taut as the intense, rolling waves of her orgasm overtook her.
At that exact moment, a massive pulse of pure, unadulterated power erupted from her core.
It was a tidal wave of raw, untamed energy, pouring directly into my center as I chased my own shattering release.
And the screaming began. “Please! Mercy!”
Raw and terrified, the voice ripped straight through my mind.
“It burns! Gods, my skin!”
The agonizing cries slammed into my core. Dozens of them. Hundreds.
“I don’t want to die! I was only—”
A choking hiss of lungs turning to ash drowned out the pleading. The quiet, fragile space of my consciousness was suddenly crushed by a violently crowded room of dying men and women. They clawed at my awareness. They badgered the edges of my soul, weeping, gagging, begging for their lives.
It was Medea’s own power, I realized in despair. The death energy my own people worshipped her for, the potent magic accumulated under her skin after years of being forced to do her captor’s bidding. It hadn’t hurt me before. Why… why was it happening now?
I tried frantically to anchor myself to the rightness of our connection. I tried to focus on the staggering heat of her skin, on the pleasure we’d just given each other.
“Aion!” Medea’s frantic voice cut through the dark. But a terrified, rotting scream tore over her words, suffocating my own thoughts.
The dead were too loud. They piled on top of my single soul, burying me alive under the panicked noise of their stolen breath.
The searing heat of her body was suddenly ripped away. Her voice was swallowed whole by the screaming.
Everything went black.