Chapter 37 #2
He leads me back outside, up a long spiral ramp that winds along a natural spire of stone until we reach a private balcony overlooking the entire realm. The sky above shifts—constellations flickering, swirling, reshaping. Stars pulse brighter as if greeting us. “It’s… stunning,” I breathe.
Slade steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chest pressed warm and solid against my back.
“Every night is like this,” he murmurs. “Every night since the old war ended.”
“And you sometimes… watch this alone?”
“I did.” His hold on me tightens. “But, not anymore.”
I turn in his arms, tilting my face up to his.
And gods—his eyes under this strange starlight are something out of myth.
Dark green, glowing at the edges, fierce and tender all at once.
The wind carries the scent of warm stone and distant fire.
His thumb slides along my lower lip, and my pulse jumps.
“Piper,” he whispers, voice dipping into something molten, “come here.”
I step into him without hesitation.
His mouth meets mine—slow, reverent, a kiss that tastes like a vow whispered straight into my soul. His fingers stroke the sides of my waist, his touch gentle but full of promise. He kisses me again. And again. Drawing me flush against him.
Tension coils low and hot in my belly. My hands slide into his hair. He groans softly—one of those rare, quiet sounds he only makes when he’s losing control. The stars swirl above us, echoing the dizzying heat climbing through me.
He presses his forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine. “Tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough enough to scrape pleasure down my spine, “I show you the rest of my realm.”
His thumb traces my jaw, slow and possessive, then drifts down the column of my throat, lingering where my pulse jumps beneath his touch.
“Not the halls,” he continues, “not the quiet parts you’ve already seen… but the living heart of it. The streets. The pulse. The creatures that come alive after sundown.”
My breath catches. He leans in, his lips a brush against mine—barely there, a spark suspended between us.
“You’ll see the Ninth Realm as it truly is,” he whispers, “colorful and wild and loud… the demons who don’t look human, the ones who shimmer and crackle and glow.
The ones who shape the night like music. ”
His mouth grazes my lower lip, sending heat spiraling through me. “And you,” he adds, eyes burning gold at the edges, “will walk beside me like the Lady you are.”
The words settle between us—heavy, electric, full of heat and promise—not the end of a moment, but the doorway into the next one.
And when he finally takes my hand and leads me toward the glowing city below, the air itself seems to shift… as if the Ninth is holding its breath for us to arrive.
***
The promise from earlier is thick and intoxicating, settling into my skin deeper than the chill of the high spire. I turn fully in his arms, and the sight of his fierce, glowing eyes in the shifting starlight makes my heart race.
“I’m ready for the wild and loud,” I tell him, my voice barely a whisper, yet firm with conviction.
He’s smiling, a slow, predatory curve of his mouth that only makes him more beautiful. Slade releases me, pulling a dark, shimmering cloak from the air—spun from shadow and midnight, it settles over my shoulders, heavy with protective power.
“But not like that,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over my dress. “The streets require armor.”
I watch as he lifts his hand, the air around me crackling with raw magic.
The fabric of my dress shifts, reforming.
My casual dress morphs instantly into something tighter, darker, and cut with wicked defiance.
It is obsidian black, clinging to my curves, plunging low in the front and hiking high up my thighs, shimmering like liquid shadow.
On my feet, flat sandals are replaced by high, aggressive heels of polished, dark crystal that feel lethal and empowering.
I’m the Lady of the Ninth, and this is my armor.
He’s dressed the same—sleek, tailored black that makes him look like a creature carved from the darkest night. He takes my hand, and the world spins in a blur of purple light and searing heat.
We land hard, the impact jarring but exhilarating.
The air hits me—a wall of heat, sound, and a thousand overlapping, primal scents—burnt sugar, blood wine, and musk. The noise is a physical force, a deep, aggressive music that vibrates in my chest and skull, distorting everything.
We’re in the Lower Levels, the heart of the Ninth Realm’s nightlife.
The street is a winding canyon of basalt and glowing plasma, lined with open-fronted clubs and bars that spill light and chaos onto the pavement.
The creatures here are magnificent and terrifying.
Hulking, shadow-skinned demons with blazing eyes, serpentine forms that glide through the crowds, and towering beings covered in crystalline scales that crackle when they laugh.
My breath catches, but I force myself not to gape.
Slade grips my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a slow, possessive warning to the crowd. “Welcome to the Harrow district,” he shouts over the thundering bass, his voice rough but clear. “The pulse of the realm.”
He guides me toward a doorway, a gaping maw of black stone that pulses with deep red light. I walk with a new, deliberate power, matching his stride in my vicious heels.
The moment we step inside the club, the noise is deafening, the air thick with sweat and pheromones. We’re in the Harrow, apparently notorious… and I have to admit… rather magnificent.
Slade pulls me instantly into the crush of bodies on the main floor. The music is a deep, pounding rhythm that demands movement. I let it take me, allowing the chaotic energy of the crowd to fuel the heat already simmering in my core.
He locks his gaze on mine, his dark green eyes glowing gold at the edges.
Slade presses his hips against mine, making every accidental brush of our bodies an explicit act.
“Drink this,” he commands, seizing a glass of glowing liquor from a passing waiter—a fiery, spiced liquid that smells of temptation. “You’ll love it.”
I take a deep, daring gulp. The liquor is scorching, but it instantly sends a delicious warmth through my veins, sharpening my focus, stripping away my last inhibitions. I smile back at him, sharp and wild.
I’m dancing, my body moving with a raw, feral abandon I didn't know I possessed. My hips roll, deliberately brushing the erection straining beneath his pants. I let the other demons look, letting them crave what they cannot have.
He leans close, his breath hot against my ear, the bass vibrating his words into my core. “That dress is driving them mad. Show me more, little witch.”
My hips answer him, pushing my pussy hard against his length, a silent, demanding promise. “I am showing you,” I breathe back, a thrilling arrogance flooding me.
I feel his grip tighten on my wrist. He pulls me sharply through the crowd, past twisting, writhing bodies, toward a dark corner near the back. Slade shoves an unmarked iron door open, dragging me inside.
The room is tiny, black, and silent compared to the club, lined with rough, padded leather.
The only light is the crimson glow seeping from beneath the door.
He slams the door shut, spinning me around, throwing me back against the cool, dark leather.
His mouth crashes onto mine, a violent, desperate claim that steals my breath and my thoughts.
He spins me around, slamming my chest against the wall.
His hands are on the back of my dress, instantly finding the zipper. He rips it down with a vicious snap, shoving the silk aside. My panties are already wet, hot, and soaked.
He growls, pulling me tight against him so I feel the solid, desperate heat of his erection. “You are going to take every inch of me, right here, right now.”
I lift my hips, desperate, shoving my knees apart for him. I feel his hands grip my waist, pushing me forward against the leather.
He is kneeling on the floor, pushing the dress up, finding my burning, dripping core.
I scratch at the leather as his mouth closes over my pussy. The noise outside is a muffled rhythm, but the sound of his hungry sucking is deafening in the tiny space. His tongue is a weapon, driving deep into my wet folds, consuming me, giving me absolutely no quarter.
I cry out, a silent, desperate scream caught in my throat, my head thrown back as I push my pussy against his mouth. My body is writhing, my hips bucking wildly against his face.
“Tell me how much you need it, little witch,” he demands, his voice a dark rasp against my skin. “Tell me I am the only one who tastes you.”
“Yours!” I gasp, the word tearing from me. “I’m yours! Don’t stop!”
I’m shattering, my body seizing. The climax is a deep, shaking explosion that leaves me trembling and slick against the cold leather.
I scream his name into the silent room. He pulls back, rising above me, his length sprung free, hard and demanding.
He pulls me up, spinning me to face him, and I guide him, my hands gripping his erection.
Slade wraps my legs around him, and plunges into me, one deep, violent thrust that buries him completely.
I meet his aggression, my hands locking around his neck. He pins me to the wall, and the fierce rhythm begins—fast, hard, primal, powered by the feral energy of the club outside.
I ride the edge of control, my eyes locked on his, my own voice lost in the rhythmic, guttural sounds he tears from his chest. This is pure, unadulterated pleasure and power.
He leans into my ear for one final declaration. “This is your realm, you hear me? And you are… mine.”