Chapter 38 In Power and Play #2
I held Valen’s gaze, refusing to look away as his eyes searched mine for deception, showing no indication that he heard the God in the cell beside us. His thumb pressed harder against my lower lip, testing, probing for weakness.
“You still hate me,” Valen said, not a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes,” I admitted, the word escaping breathlessly. “With every fiber of my being.”
“I killed your family.”
“You did.”
“I destroyed your kingdom.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve tortured you. Humiliated you. Broken you.”
I smiled, the expression, I knew, was sharp enough to cut. “You will never break me.”
Valen hummed, releasing me, causing me to sway in my bounds, my shoulders screaming at the shift. But I kept my face impassive, holding his gaze as he circled behind me.
His breath stirred the hair at the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
“I’m not so sure about that, sparrow,” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing my ear. “Your song seems to have sweetened to a tune just for me.”
I almost gasped at his endearment, recalling our dance at the welcome feast. That felt like lifetimes ago, a different Mireille and Valen. Merely a princess and a king, before we became captive and god.
Yet, maybe we had always been this. Maybe we were always meant to be this.
His hand came to rest on my hip, fingers splaying wide over the thin fabric of my gown. The touch seared through me, igniting nerves I hadn’t realized were waiting for his contact. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound, but couldn’t stop my body from arching slightly into his hand.
He was still for a long moment, and I could not help but turn my head to meet his gaze.
Valen’s eyes were storms—dark, violent, churning with emotions too complex for me to name. For a moment, I thought I’d pushed too far, that he would revert to simple violence, to the lash or the blade.
Instead, his hand moved from my hip to my waist, then higher, skimming the curve of my breast through the torn silk. My breath hitched, a soft sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.
Valen groaned with approval, his breath hot and dangerous as it ghosted across my lips. His thumb brushed across my nipple through the silk, and I couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through me. “Tell me, Princess, what exactly do you want from me?”
I leaned back against him, feeling the heat of his body radiate through the thin fabric separating us. “I want...” I hesitated, letting the words spill from my lips on a breath, my silver eyes flicking between his crimson ones, “I want you. All of you.”
“You play with forces you don’t understand,” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing mine. “Divine hunger is not like human desire. It consumes. It devours. It leaves nothing behind.”
“Don’t you see? That’s what I want,” I whispered back, my gaze drifting to his lips. “To be consumed. To be devoured. By you.”
The tension between us snapped. Valen’s control—that perfect, godlike restraint—fractured before my eyes.
His hand grasped the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he closed the last breath of space between us.
His mouth claimed mine with savage intensity, the kiss nothing like the last, the kiss from our wedding night.
This was raw, primal, a hunger too long denied.
His teeth caught my lower lip, not quite breaking the skin but hard enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.
I moaned against his mouth, the sound neither feigned nor restrained.
My body arched toward his, chains rattling above me as I strained against my bonds.
This—this was what I had been waiting for, what I had been provoking.
Not just his desire, but the loss of his perfect control.
The God of Blood and Conquest, undone by a mere mortal.
Undone by me.
Valen’s hands roamed my body, no longer tentative or questioning.
They claimed, possessed, demanded. He tore the already ruined gown, the sound of ripping silk sharp in the close confines of the cell.
Cool air rushed against my exposed skin, raising goosebumps that his burning touch immediately soothed.
“My insatiable little wife wants to be fucked in her cell?” he growled against my throat, teeth grazing the bite mark he’d left the night before.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, demanding entry that I willingly granted. The kiss deepened, turning molten, consuming. I tasted the ancient power that flowed through his veins, felt it ignite an answering heat in my core.
My wrists strained against the leather cuffs, the inability to reciprocate his touch its own form of torment.
Valen’s hands fully cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing across nipples already hardened from the chill and my arousal. The rough pads of his fingers against my sensitive skin sent sparks of pleasure spiraling through me.
“So responsive,” he pulled back to look at me, voice rough with desire. “So eager for the touch of the man who destroyed your family, your kingdom.”
It was a deliberate attempt to shatter the moment, to remind me of who he was, of what stood between us. Once, it may have worked. Now, I let my lips curve into a smile that mirrored his own predatory one.
“Does that disturb you, husband? That I can desire the monster as well as hate him?”
His eyes darkened, pupils expanding. “You should fear me,” he growled, one hand sliding down my stomach to the juncture of my thighs. “You should tremble at my touch.”
I gasped as his fingers found the wet heat between my legs, but didn’t look away. “I do,” I whispered. “But not from fear.”
His touch grew more insistent, more possessive. One finger slid inside me, then another, his thumb circling my clit with unerring accuracy. My hips bucked against his hand, chains rattling as my body sought more, deeper, harder.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Valen demanded, his fingers curling inside me in a way that made my vision blur at the edges. “Say it.”
I bit my lip, not from modesty but to savor the moment of making him wait, of denying him the immediate satisfaction of my response. His fingers stilled, his eyes narrowing.
“Say it,” he repeated, voice dropping to that dangerous register that sent shivers down my spine.
I held his gaze, my own falling half-lidded with desire. “I want you inside me,” I said, each word deliberate, unashamed. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. Like you mean it.”
I felt Death’s rage surround me, pushing my pleasure higher. I ignored him, all my focus now centered around the God in my cell.
Valen’s gaze darkened further, a storm brewing in those fathomless depths. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Be careful what you wish for, Princess.”
His fingers withdrew from my core, and I whimpered at the sudden loss, the emptiness where pleasure had thrived. The sound seemed to please him, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
He moved to face me, his hands working at the laces of his trousers, movements quick and slightly uncoordinated. What a sight, the God of Blood and Conquest fumbling like an eager youth.
When he freed himself, I couldn’t help the appreciative sound that escaped my throat. Even in the dim light of the cell, I could see the impressive length of him, hard and ready. My body clenched in anticipation, remembering the feel of him.
Valen lifted me by the waist, the chains above me rattling as he positioned himself between my spread thighs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and insistent but not yet breaching me, as if waiting for me to pull away. Waiting for me to change my mind.
Instead, I wrapped my legs around his waist, using the leverage to press myself closer.
“Fuck me, husband,” I breathed.
With a groan that seemed torn from somewhere deep within him, Valen thrust forward, filling me in one powerful stroke. The sensation was overwhelming—stretching, burning, pleasure so intense it mingled with pain. I cried out, head falling back, eyes closing as my body adjusted to his invasion.
“Look at me,” he commanded, one hand fisting in my hair to pull my head back up. “I want to see those silver eyes when I take you.”
I obeyed, opening my eyes to find his face inches from mine, his gaze intense and searching. There was something vulnerable in that demand, something almost human in his need to witness my response.
He began to move then, slow, powerful thrusts that would have driven me backward if not for the chains holding me in place. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, building upon each other until I could barely think beyond the sensation of him inside me, filling me, claiming me.
“More,” I demanded, voice breaking with desire. “Harder.”
Valen groaned, moving his face to press against my throat, teeth grazing the tender skin there.
His pace increased, each thrust more punishing than the last. I could feel every inch of him—the ridged piercings along his length creating exquisite friction that made me gasp with each movement.
My body responded eagerly, arching toward him to accommodate his considerable size.
My eyes drifted to Death’s cell as Valen continued his assault on my neck.
I could feel his rage like a physical presence, cold fury pressing against my consciousness.
The knowledge that he was there, listening, watching in whatever way gods could see through stone and darkness, sent a perverse thrill through me.
Let him hear my pleasure. Let him know what he had cast aside.
“Is this what you imagined?” Valen growled against my shoulder, his rhythm never faltering. “When you touched yourself?”
His words immediately drew a high-pitched sound from me—the memory of my harbinger’s voice in the darkness, commanding me to pleasure myself while his blood drove me to madness, suddenly vivid in my head.
‘Thinking of me, little fawn?’