Chapter 19 Roth
ROTH
Ancus Drystan
It’s ready.
His text comes through just as the girl on her knees in front of me envelopes the head of my cock in her warm, wet mouth.
With her hands bound behind her back using her uniform tie, it makes her breasts test the limit of the buttons of her shirt.
I’m sure some would find her attractive in this position: skirt pulled taught between her thighs as she worships my cock behind the Student Union.
Not that we’re likely to be discovered this late.
I don’t know her name. I don’t need to. All I need is for her to finish, get the potion from Drystan and deliver it to my father. Preferably without having to interact with him more than absolutely necessary.
“You have three minutes before I finish it myself.” Her eyes flare with momentary fear, but she knew what she was in for when she approached me. Just like they all do. And yet still they try, men and women, knowing that no one has ever succeeded.
I don’t need the adoration that Killian enjoys.
I need the rush of dominance when desperate fear fills their eyes when they realize I own them, down to the very air in their lungs. Completely at my limited mercy.
The thrill of it momentarily quells the burning beneath my skin. At least until Thane’s ready for me again.
“Time’s up.” I snarl, fisting my hands in her hair and burying my cock down her throat.
Her body convulses, the tight squeeze inflaming the lust that’s threatening to overwhelm my self-control.
The sound of her ragged gasp is music to my ears when I pull back enough to let her breathe.
Then I’m thrusting again, over and over until finally my balls tighten and my cock throbs with my own orgasm.
I bring one hand to grip the trembling column of her neck, squeezing hard enough to feel myself pulsing down her throat.
Just as her tear-streaked eyes begin to flutter and roll backwards, I pull out swiftly and tuck my spent cock back into my pants, as she gasps and heaves.
“That was incredible, Ro—”
“It was mediocre, at best,” I interrupt. It never fails to disgust me, how eagerly they prostrate themselves for debasement.
“I’ll do better next time.”
“Don’t be presumptuous. It’s unbecoming.” And completely fabricated. She wouldn’t know true submission if it choked her.
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again—”
“I’m sure.” My mouth twists trying to hold back a sneer as she works to untie her wrists behind her back, but I’m already texting the guys to meet back at the apartment by the time she rights herself.
“Can I—” I turn and walk away, leaving her forgotten and disheveled in the dusk light.
On my way back to the apartment I respond to Drystan with instructions on where and when to meet me tomorrow.
If I time it correctly, I can likely avoid interaction with either of my parents before returning to campus for the weekend.
Interspersed lamps light the dark, tree-shadowed path winding past the ever-vigilant Foundation Stone.
It’s the time of evening when the predators come out to play: stalking in the shadows and smiling in the low light, luring their prey towards their doom.
Unfortunately for the malevolence that lies in wait for its next unsuspecting victim, I’m the worst of them all.
Only my measured footsteps disturb the disquiet of the night as I stroll through the empty campus.
The world holds its breath, waiting for the danger to pass before exhaling in relief that it’s been spared for another day.
Killian finds me on his way back to the dorms from his evening workout. His bare, sweaty chest is steaming in the cold air but there’s a dark alertness in his eyes that tells me his demon is close to the surface. He adjusts his bag to the other shoulder to walk beside me.
“Fuck, man. This Hunter’s Moon is making me so damn twitchy.”
“Problems with the roster?”
He shakes his head, damp hair flinging droplets on my shoulder before he brushes it out of his eyes.
God damn mutt.
“Nothing’s cutting it.” He sighs heavily before continuing in a low voice.
“My demon needs to chase. And no one’s running.
‘Cept for the new girl. Even if she’s just playing hard to get like Luther thinks, I don’t care.
I just want to take a fucking bite outta that ass.
” Those last few words are uttered in a growl as his demon slips through.
“I can’t stop thinking about that night in her dorm.
Fucking Luther gets to toss her around every week and still bitches about it.
Maybe I should be Carrick’s TA instead.”
Of course.
Nyx Byrke.
The pretty bird who flits around campus, just out of reach, teasing me with whispers of her defiance.
“Maybe he’ll let you sub for him one day.”
“Fuck I wouldn’t be able to stand it, knowing what she looks like naked.”
“I’m surprised she’s outlasted you, Killer.”
“You think she’s getting any from someone else?”
I scoff. “Not if the Legacies have anything to say about it.” They’re following my orders, after all. When we arrive at the dorms, he pulls open the front door and the sweltering heat engulfs me as we walk towards our elevator.
“Yeah thanks for that, by the way. They’ve been on my ass more than usual lately. And I can’t even enjoy it anymore.”
“Poor puppy, getting bored with his toys,” I say, letting my demon darken my words with a menacing grin.
He shivers with a grimace. “I don’t know how Thane puts up with you, you fucking psychopath.”
I can only chuckle, the weight of being Heir of House Kovacs, Legacy of Wrath becoming lighter with every step closer to our apartment. “Maybe a little denial is exactly what you need.”
“Oh fuck off with that sadist shit.” He rolls his eyes and pushes the door to our apartment open.
When I follow him in to see Thane and Luther sitting in the living room, I immediately know something’s not right.
Luther is tense—arms crossed, untouched bottle of beer sweating on the coffee table, refusing to look at us.
Thane’s leg is shaking with anxiety, despite the pungent smoke that hovers around his head.
He briefly glances at us, then leans forward to rest his arms on his knees, holding his head.
The silence between them echos through the air, whispering of disquiet.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Killian demands, throwing his gym bag through the open doorway of his room and resting his hands on his hips, like a mother who’s just caught her misbehaving children in the act.
Neither responds to him, and my interest piques at the prospect of unraveling whatever thread has wound around them so tightly they won’t admit what’s wrong.
I prowl closer tracking every twitch, every breath like the predator I am hunting for their secrets.
Killian has no such compunction, vaulting over the couch and swiping Luther’s beer for himself, but our enforcer doesn’t even glance his way.
After a long drink, he sighs and leans back, head resting on the back of the couch.
And then he freezes.
Sitting up, he grabs Luther’s shirt and inhales deeply before Luther can push him off. When he opens his eyes, it’s not Killian looking back at me with a triumphant grin, but his demon. Luther stands abruptly and stalks off without a word, leaving Killian cackling on the couch.
“You dirty dog,” his deepened voice calls out through gasping breaths.
When he finally sits upright, wiping tears from his eyes, his demon turns that predatory grin to Thane, sniffing the air.
“Did you get a taste, too?” Killian darts for him but I step in between them, holding him back with my hand around his throat. The mutt only grins wider.
“Fucking Fate, he’s fucking drenched in her scent,” the demon chuckles darkly, fighting my hold while Thane watches us with wide, frantic eyes. “Someone dipped their fingers into the honeypot. You gonna share with the rest of class?” He licks his lips before snapping his teeth together.
I shake him roughly before turning to Thane, my eyebrow crooked expectantly. He opens his mouth but stops, swallowing thickly and hanging his head once more.
“Go to your room, Killian.” I order, releasing his throat with a narrowed side glance.
“I call next taste.” His hoarse, menacing laugh echoes in the silence, and I don’t move until his door slams shut hard enough to shake the walls.
Leaving Thane to sit while I pour two fingers of McCallan Red, I swirl the golden liquid in my glass and settle into my chair.
I watch him, watch the thick, enchanted smoke encircling his head.
Years of memorizing every tick, twitch, and tell make it obvious he’s on the verge of losing himself to his demon.
Unlike earlier this evening, the burning need trapped beneath my skin isn’t a flashover, burning hot and fast. It’s a creeping, roiling heat that snakes through my veins until every breath, every heartbeat is aflame with anticipation.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, inviting him into the scene. He looks at me with such desperation, it makes the demon in my mind preen at his eagerness to submit.
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Stand up.” Slowly, he obeys. I push the coffee table backwards with my foot to give us enough space. “Come here.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, but again, he obeys. “Color?”