Chapter 47 #2
My heart thuds double-time. I am nothing but a ball of writhing sensations as I grind against her softness, barbs fully extended, and dump load after load of cum.
She squirms. Her nails rake over my abdomen, and I welcome her marks. More power arcs between us, a powder keg built on her second denied release.
Fuck. It’s going to be spectacular when she goes.
“If Atlas doesn’t strangle you, I’m going to go ahead and beat you bloody too,” Darrion mutters.
Violet’s eyes are wide, spitting murder at me, too.
Good. I believe I’ve pissed everybody off and left our Queen nicely primed.
Still grinning, I pull out of my mate.
Darrion
One can always trust Fenix to ride roughshod over a sacred ritual.
There is no need to ask if I am next. The only other person who hasn’t claimed Violet, save for Rafe—and who we have just discovered is far from immune to proceedings—is Lark.
Given he is half my height again and twice as wide, it does not require genius-level intellect to work out that he is going last.
Also, he keeps drooling, and the deep, rattling growl that emerges from his chest is the stuff of nightmares.
“He is noble, if beastly,” Darkan announces.
Wonderful, my griffin admires Lark, drooling and all.
But I am not a heathen like Fenix, nor am I semi-feral, as I detect Lark is about to be.
I am a civilized male of breeding, one descended from a noble line.
Over the ages, many of my ancestors have bonded with griffins.
The greatest moment of my life was when Darkan roused from his long sleep and accepted me in a sacred bond that would transcend my life.
Only as I lean over the sweet woman who today becomes our Queen, and as I take her lips in a kiss and with it her essence—her nourishment—I realize there can be more than one great moment in a person’s life. That today and here is every bit as potent as the day Darkan’s soul bonded with mine.
Darkan rumbles his approval, his presence manifesting in the gentle waft of my wings and the lash of my tail behind me.
Her fingers are in my hair, clinging to me. Her legs are wrapped around me. Her wet pussy smears against my belly. My cock is rigid, engorged with arousal. Keeping it outside her while I torment myself with a kiss requires all my will.
As for my tail, it has a mind of its own and appears obsessed with stroking the soft flesh of her side, her hip, under her breast, and seeking the faint red patches we noticed, and which were left by Fenix’s rougher lashing.
“The tail is all me,” Darkan announces. “How she trembles and shudders with the lightest brush.”
I try to block out his commentary lest I fucking come, for she is indeed blissed out on the touch.
Fenix’s amusement pokes at the bond as though he senses how holding back costs me. In this moment of self-awareness, I almost envy his lack of restraint.
But that is not me.
I slide my palm around her throat, a gentle collaring, pin her to the dais, and I lift my lips from hers. She makes a hot little mewing sound of protest, followed by a hiss of fury, chest heaving as she glares at me.
Yes, our Pride Queen is nicely primed.
“Breathe for me,” I say. “Steady. You can do this.”
“Darrion,” she begs. “I cannot bear it.”
A long thread of drool lands with a splat beside her head, followed by a belated snap of Lark’s jaws as he tries to control himself.
Damn mutt!
“Nice and steady. Feel my fingers where they hold you. Focus on that, and only that.”
Her chest heaves, and then she exhales a slow, shaky breath.
“Good girl. You are doing so well,” I say. “Keep thinking about my hand, how it holds you.”
I line up with her slick channel. Then, like I am subject to primal forces far beyond my control, my hips roll forward of their own volition, and I sink into her with devastating ease.
Gods. So good.
She whines.
“Focus on my hand,” I grit out.
Her lips part, and incoherent words pour out. It could be a curse, a complaint, an entreaty to have mercy on her.
We can mind-speak now, but in the haze of pleasure and her denied release, I do not believe she has the cognizance to consider projecting her thoughts. Not now that I’m inside her, holding still, letting her feel my flesh pulse within hers, our hearts beating a rapid tattoo.
“You’re doing so well, Violet. I’m so proud of you. We all are.”
A faint moan comes from the side of us.
Rafe.
His consciousness is fighting its way to the surface.
I slide out and plunge back in. It is not the measured strokes of Atlas, nor the violent penetration of Fenix, but somewhere in between.
I push the pleasure outward, beyond me, beyond her, into the ether.
“Ah, fuck,” Fenix mutters.
The griffin’s humming has risen to a heavy drone that reverberates around the Sundial Chamber, vibrating up through the stone. It seems to penetrate my very bones as I assuage my lust on the sweet, giving woman who writhes with pleasure.
But the sensation is growing bigger, projecting ever outward as well as in.
A soft moan, a thud comes from the direction of Rafe. Thank the Goddess Violet is too far gone to notice, for I will let no worries enter her mind at this time.
Her soft channel welcomes me, fluttering with every thrust, teasing my burgeoning barbs.
Her fingers tightly grip the silk covering of the dais, making small fists.
I feel a pulse hammering underneath my fingers at her throat.
Her face is flushed, and the red stain spreads all the way down to the upper swell of her breasts, which sway with every penetration in the most arresting way.
So beautiful. So perfect. “You were born for this. Born to be our Queen.”
Her breathing turns choppy, and I slow my thrusts. She moans.
“She is close,” Atlas cautions.
I slow my strokes further, the barbs maddening me as they prepare to penetrate her flesh.
“Darrion,” she begs. “Goddess weep. Please!”
Understanding that I have taken her to the limit, I release my control.
My tail lashes from side to side.
My wings stand high, rigid and proud.
And then, my heart beating heavily in my chest, I hook my barbs and empty my seed into her hot, welcoming cunt. Her nourishment floods me, bathing me in a surge of power. I throb in an echo of my pulsing release—growing, strengthening.
Heat and icy cold.
I shudder as the last throes of my climax grip me.
Gods, the power is near overwhelming. I tingle all over, skin shooting sparks as I gaze upon Violet, panting helplessly beneath me, lost somewhere in a hazy place between wakefulness and dream.
In her rapturous expression, I glimpse what we are about to unleash.
Lark
Rafe.
We were friends before Violet came along. Good ones. Though things deepened once the traveling began… when she went into heat.
But this is something else entirely.
This is the resonant bond in the making.
There was a time when my wolf lingered in the darkness of my mind, quiet, patient. Content—or so I believed. Then Atlas broke something loose. Something dark and primal. Now I cannot imagine existing any other way.
Yet this half-shift, this werebeast form… It is different again.
It reaches deeper into that wild place.
Pure Beast.
I cannot stop fucking drooling. Disconcerting, to say the least. The scent of her—hot, wet, aroused—mixed with the heavy musk of her other mates’ lust fills the air and drives straight into the back of my skull.
It does things to me I cannot control.
It is my turn.
My turn to feed.
A primal wildness courses through me as I step between her spread thighs, staring at the evidence of her recent coupling dripping from her swollen slit.
My hands are more animal than human, rough where they rest tentatively against the soft flesh of her hips. This form carries power I barely recognize as my own.
The damage I could do like this…
“You are more controlled than you realize,” Atlas says.
His words steady me, though the ritual's energy still churns inside my veins. I feel impossibly strong. My white coat shimmers in the light, and I don't quite know what to make of it.
Her eyes are glassy.
But there is no fear in them. I do not think I could touch her if there were. For all that I want her—Gods, how I want her—a part of me would recoil if she flinched. If she feared what I am in this moment.
But she does not.
Instead, she reaches out and takes my massive, gnarled hand in her tiny palm. She turns it over as though it were nothing more than a man’s fingers, not a killing weapon. And then, as if I am not already breaking for her, she presses that hand firmly against her plump tit.
I squeeze.
My snout lowers to her chest, drool spilling as I drag my tongue over the soft curve of her flesh. She only moans, arching up against the platform, pushing into me for more.
My cock is enormous in this form, an impossible, brilliant pink that defies reason. It leaks freely as I slide it through the slick folds of her cunt, brushing the hot nub of her clit.
“For the love of the Goddess, fuck her already,” Atlas grunts.
I lower my head further, sliding along her collarbone until I can nuzzle the side of her throat. She tilts her head, giving me better access.
My hands slide to her waist, where I grip and lift her slightly. My great bulk curves over her as I guide my cock between her slick folds, pushing slowly until I rest against her entrance.
High above, the griffins hum their approval for what is to come.
Violet
I hang out of time, ready for Lark to take me, staring down between us to where his pink flesh is poised to enter me. The twin swellings at either side of the base are already prominent and aroused. Although the tip of his cock is tapered, the rest of him is huge.
And then there is the knot to consider.
By rights, I should be terrified. And yet I open for him—I ache for him.