Chapter 19 The Claiming
The Claiming
Damon
Legend had it that the claiming platform in the Council’s amphitheater came from Mount Olympus itself. I didn’t know if that was true. But as I stepped onto the polished marble with Cora by my side, every Alpha instinct I possessed roared to life.
This was a place of judgment, a fighting pit disguised as a court, and we were the intended sacrifice.
“I always knew House Hades was reprehensible, but this is extreme, even for you, Blackwood.” The House Artemis guard glared at me from the platform’s edge, then dismissed me with a disgusted sneer.
Her gaze lingered on Cora with a look of intense pity. “You deserve better, Cora Ellis.”
My Alpha snarled at the guard’s insult. A possessive fury coiled in my gut, and I had to physically swallow it down. I wanted nothing more than to make her eat her presumptuous words.
Before I could answer, Cora’s hand found mine, her fingers a surprising warmth against my cold skin.
She met the guard’s eyes without flinching, her voice quiet but unwavering.
“It was your twin-House, Apollo, who ruled this was necessary. Perhaps your disapproval is better directed at your own kin.”
The guard’s jaw tightened, her certainty momentarily shaken by Cora’s logic. But the women of House Artemis were nothing if not stubborn. “The law forces us to witness this depravity,” she spat. “It doesn’t mean we have to approve.”
A sharp bark of laughter cut through the tension. Marcus Dred rose to his feet in the Ares section, a predator enjoying the escalating conflict. “Let them have their fun, warden,” he called out. “Blackwood needs all the help he can get.”
As if his words were a cue, a wave of honey-sweet pheromones washed over the platform.
The Aphrodite Omegas watched us from their seats, their faces masks of rapt amusement.
They rarely got involved in the business of the Olympian Council, but when they did, they were always a wild card.
Their scent was not an attack, just a careless byproduct of their excitement.
A gift from their seductive patron they shared without thought.
This life-and-death struggle, Cora’s safety, the fate of my House… It was all just a spectacle for them. The idea that her pain could be anyone’s entertainment infuriated me beyond belief. It was a rage so profound it almost eclipsed the void’s primal demands.
I leaned closer to Cora, my voice a low growl meant only for her. “They want to see a monster. Let them.”
“I’ve seen your monster, Damon,” she whispered back. “He’s not the one I’m afraid of right now.”
Her trust was a brand against my skin. She stood on this sacrificial altar, surrounded by wolves, and looked to me for protection. What had I done to deserve her faith?
The Alpha in my blood screamed a deafening command. Take her. Mark her. Show them she is yours. The urge was a tidal wave, threatening to sweep away every rational thought. It would be so easy to let go, to let the beast have its way.
But her words anchored me, and a memory that wasn’t mine surfaced in my head.
Once, aeons ago, a mortal bard walked into the Underworld itself, armed only with his music. He faced down the god of death not for power, but for love.
Orpheus. He had not been an Alpha. He had been a man, and his resolve had proven stronger than any god’s command. He’d been the ancestor of House Hades.
That was the strength I needed now. Not the beast’s rage. Not the void’s emptiness. The heart of a man.
I wasn’t armed with a lyre, or with the gift of a muse. But I had her. I had the memory of her lying still in my arms, broken on the Shadow Chamber floor, yet reaching for me. She was all the music I needed.
I forced my eyes shut, and in the darkness, I began my own descent. A thousand voices screamed for me to give in, to take what was mine without thought or care. Every cell in my body demanded a brutal, simple release.
I ignored it all. I focused on the single, perfect note of my purpose. Her. I walked through the chaos of my own internal underworld, my will a shield against the storm. The pain was immense, a sensation of being torn apart from the inside, but Orpheus had endured worse. I held on.
When I opened my eyes again, the world had gone still. The roaring in my ears had ceased. The chaos had been forged into a single, sharp point. The beast still raged, a blade pressed against my spine, but my will was now the hand that held it.
My attention settled on Cora. She was watching me, her expression a mixture of terror and fragile, desperate hope. I started toward her, my boots making no sound on the polished marble.
When I reached her, I brushed my fingers over the line of her jaw. A slight tremor ran through her at my touch, and a jolt of possessive satisfaction swept through my veins.
“Damon...” she murmured.
The simple sound of my name on her lips should have broken me. I narrowed my eyes, refusing to fail this first, accidental test. “Not Damon now, Dr. Ellis. Alpha.”
Her breath caught, and she swayed on her feet. I grabbed her arm, my grip a band of iron. Pulling her off balance, I dragged her away from the platform’s edge and into the vast, empty center. Her feet scraped against the polished marble as she stumbled to keep up.
This was our altar now. The stone would serve as the bed for our claiming.
I spun her around. She felt impossibly fragile in my arms, a negligible weight for a man of my strength.
How could someone so frail hold so much defiance?
The question haunted me, clawing at my consciousness.
The shadows in my mind screamed, a chorus of dark urges that demanded I shatter her then and there.
I refused to let them get to me. When I forced her down, I didn’t let her fall. Instead, I supported her back, guiding her to the stone. Her gasp echoed in the amphitheater as her skin met the unforgiving surface.
Her hands flew to my chest, not to push me away, but to hold on, to find an anchor in the storm. Her eyes, wide and glazed, darted toward the terraced seating, toward the hundreds of silent observers.
“Don’t look at them,” I snarled. “Look only at me.”
She didn’t answer, so I took my own answer from her body.
I crushed my mouth to hers, reminding her whom she belonged to.
There was no seduction in the act, only the raw finality of a brand being seared into flesh.
When I bit her lower lip, I tasted both blood and desire, and I knew she needed me as much as I needed her.
Breaking away, I moved between her thighs. She was already trembling, her skin flushed, her auburn hair clinging to her cheeks in sweaty strands. She was far more beautiful than any of those Aphrodite Omegas could ever be.
I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her wet heat. The scent of her arousal was a thick, intoxicating cloud that threatened to shatter me.
In one swift, brutal motion, I buried myself inside her.
Her back arched off the stone. She cried out, a sharp, ragged sound that was half pain, half pleasure.
Her inner muscles clenched around me, a tight, desperate grip that sent a tremor through my entire frame.
The sensation was a raw shock to my system, a pleasure so sharp it almost felt like a weapon turned against me.
“Alpha,” she gasped, her nails digging into the flesh of my shoulders. The single word was both a plea and a brand.
I forced a slow, deliberate rhythm into my hips.
Every muscle in my body screamed to pound into her, to find a frantic release in the heart of her heat.
But I denied it, grinding the primal urge into submission with each measured stroke.
The drag of my cock against her slick tightness was a torment I craved, a self-inflicted punishment that kept my mind sharp.
With every slow movement, the pleasure fed the darkness inside me. Deep in my core, the Shadow Realm erupted. Yes, it hissed, a chorus of ancient whispers invading my mind. So much life. So much warmth. Feed her to us.
It cackled and reached for her with greedy, insubstantial hands. I could feel its hunger, a ferocious, empty thing that could never be sated. It wanted to rush forward, to use me as a conduit to consume her.
But Cora had trusted me, and I would die before I let the void touch her.
“Damon...” Cora sobbed, oblivious. “Please...”
“Please what?” I growled, my own voice sounding distant, strained. I was fighting a war on two fronts against my own need to possess her, and the Realm’s desire to devour her.
“Faster,” she begged, arching against me, shamelessly seeking the friction her biology demanded.
The sound of her voice, so broken and needy, was both my anchor and the ultimate temptation. “You want faster?” I growled. “Then beg for it properly.”
Shifting my weight, I found the hard pearl of her clit with my thumb. I pressed down, and the simple motion sent a fresh wave of her slickness coating my length.
“Please,” she repeated, trying to buck against my hand, my cock. “Alpha, please... I can’t... Not in front of them...”
Her shame was a wine I could taste on the air, a delicacy that fed my possessive nature. “You can,” I commanded, holding her hips fast. “You will. You’ll break for me, and they will all watch.”
I increased the pace of my thrusts, matching the merciless rhythm of my thumb. As I watched her unravel, her breath caught in ragged cries, every fiber of her being lost in her pleasure. She was right on the edge, prepared to shatter, all because of me. Because of us.
Her scent thickened, her inner walls pulsed frantically against me. But just as she was about to break, I stopped moving completely.
With my cock buried deep inside her, I held her there, suspended in that agonizing moment just before release. A broken, frustrated cry left her throat as her orgasm dissolved, denied at the last possible second. “No. Why?”