Chapter 39
All I felt was pain.
Unbelievable blinding agony radiated from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, which was now filled with memories that seemed more like dreams than reality.
The sound of bickering voices reached me, discordant distress rising above the pounding ache in my skull. It was almost enough to make me wish for the calm of death once more. I struggled to discern who was who as they began to speak over one another.
“Leave her alone, Jasper. She isn’t ready?—”
“But it’s time. His body needs to be prepared?—”
“She really must let us?—”
“I said no,” Calia growled. “And I swear I will cut your fucking balls off if you come near him, Jasper.”
“You won’t do anything,” he snapped. “You’re hardly capable of taking care of yourself now.”
“Jasper, stop it!” Rowena admonished. “If she needs more time, then she needs more time.”
“I do not think that is necessary,” I croaked, slowly blinking my eyes. Sloane, Rowena, Jasper, and Castor stopped their bickering, freezing in place, as they turned to stare in my direction.
My gaze landed on Calia, who sat apart from the others at the edge of my bed, eyes red-rimmed above swollen cheeks. “Rion…” she whispered, face falling as fresh tears spilled down her face. I groaned as she launched herself toward me, burrowing her head in my neck.
She pulled back in alarm, scanning my face. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry! I didn’t—” she turned over her shoulder “—someone call Elios!”
“He’s coming,” Jasper said, dropping to the other side of my bed. “What a way to return from the dead, you dramatic bastard.” He forced a smile, but it did not diminish the fear in his eyes. “We thought we lost you.”
Calia brought a glass of water to my cracked lips, letting the cool moisture slowly trickle in. “For a moment, you did,” I said, swallowing past the pain. “How long?—”
“Three fucking days,” Rowena snapped, sitting beside Calia. Guilt pricked my conscience as I noticed the bandage on her neck. It would heal without so much as a scar since I had not used my venom, but I did not know if she could forgive me.
As I opened my mouth to apologize, she held up her hand. “We will talk about it later, but don’t think you’re forgiven just because you died.”
“But I came back,” I said, offering a weak smile. “That must count for something.”
Before she could respond, Elios strode in. Relief washed over his features as he pushed Jasper out of the way and placed his hand atop my forehead.
To his credit, my friend did not balk before strolling to Rowena’s side and draping his arms around her shoulders. She reached up and intertwined their fingers as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
I looked away, unable to untangle what had happened between them while I was gone.
Heat radiated from Elios’ palm, traveling the length of my body. Small currents of power sought my injuries, stringing together the skin and acting as a numbing agent until my natural healing abilities kicked in.
“Gods, that feels better,” I mumbled, leaning back against my pillow. Calia grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“It is difficult to ease a dead man’s pain,” he said quietly, continuing to treat my wounds. As he finished, he wiped his hands on the back of his trousers. “I imagine you have quite the tale to tell.”
“I do,” I said warily, taking gentle sips from the water Calia held up once more. “How much do you know?”
“Nothing,” Jasper said sharply. “Castor and his men stormed in after you collapsed. Sloane and Elios immediately tried to resuscitate you, and then Ballard?—”
“Jasper,” Rowena snapped, reaching up and smacking the side of his head. Sloane flinched at the mention of her uncle’s name and quickly excused herself. My sister followed after her, shooting daggers in Jasper’s direction.
“What happened?” I asked, looking between Calia, Castor, and Elios. I had not seen the witch in the afterlife and did not know what may have become of him in my absence.
Castor leaned against the armchair. “He’s in stable condition.”
I waited for more, but was met with silent tension as Elios and Castor stared at one another. I could not imagine the hurt between them, knowing there was a traitor amongst them since the beginning.
To dispel the lingering current of animosity, I told them what I could remember: the meeting with my father, my mother’s torture, and the truth regarding the curse.
Though I did not venture into specifics unless asked, I was thankful they did not pry into the intimate details of my conversations. I wanted to keep those for myself a little longer.
One day, I knew I would relish the opportunity to show Calia the pieces of my past that my father helped heal.
No one spoke as I finished. They settled into a stunned stupor before Castor rose suddenly, pushing to his feet and running to the window. He pulled back the curtains, staring up at the vestiges of the blood moon, before slowly unhooking the latch and swinging the bewitched panes open.
Calia tensed beside me, watching in caution and curiosity. Fresh air filtered in as Castor stood in awe of the unfiltered light shining down. He held out his hands, letting the glow wash over his skin, before turning and smiling at us.
“It is true,” he said with a choked laugh. “Calia, come here.”
She looked at me hesitantly, and I nodded. “Go,” I urged. “I want to see your face in moonlight.”
She smiled, walking to her uncle. He moved to the side as she stepped up to the window, closing her eyes as the wind softly brushed the hair from her face. It was hauntingly beautiful, the way her features softened as she inhaled her very first breath of real evening air.
“There is so much of her mother in her,” Elios murmured, watching her with equal rapture. “Some moments, I find myself struggling to understand the why of it all, but then I look at Calia and know all the pain I endured was worth it.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It was.”
I slidmy hand inside my pocket, leaning back against my car as Anya escorted Calia and her family past the wrought iron gates into the cemetery. The sun was high in the sky, casting the ground in sparkling rays of golden light. It was impossible not to notice the differences between today and the last time I was here.
Vivian clung to her husband’s arm with a bruising grip, the mourning veil she donned hiding her face from view. From what Calia had told me the night before, her aunt had barely gotten out of bed since the news of Brielle’s death. She refused to eat or drink, and slept the hours away in a elixir-induced stupor.
Castor hardly fared better, his haggard features seeming to show his age. We had not spoken outside of the mumbled gratitudes he spared me this morning before he ducked into the back of a town car after Vivian.
As for Xavier, he had been the unfortunate soul to stumble across his sister’s mutilated corpse as he and his father stormed the underground shelter with the Vail in tow in an effort to stop Leonora.
I did not know much about him, having only seen him once before at Calia’s funeral. Yet, he reminded me of his father, saying very little, and never volunteering any information about himself outside of direct questions. As they walked across the hallowed grounds, he followed behind them dutifully scanning the area for potential dangers.
It had been nearly one week since Brielle’s death. The family elected to keep the service intimate, only allowing immediate family and Anya to attend. Even Jasper and Rowena stayed behind, giving the family space to mourn away from spectators.
Calia was accustomed to hiding her grief, forcing a smile for everyone else’s benefit. It was only in the rare quiet moments she was afforded that grief caught up to her. She sought solace in the darkness, her cries reaching me in the silence of night, floating down the halls of the manor like a ghostly echo.
“It never gets easier,” Elios said with a sigh, appearing beside me as he had so many weeks ago. He kept his gaze trained on the Darrow’s silhouettes as they crested the hill where Brielle’s body had been laid to rest. “I have seen many mortals perish in my lifetime, but there are some deaths that will forever linger in the back of your mind.”
Though I had not known her long, I had known Brielle well enough that I knew Elios spoke true. She was a rare soul—the kind that used her sometimes overwhelmingly positive disposition to thaw even the coldest hearts. She and Calia had that in common.
Though my world had been reborn, bathed in light I never thought possible, the world already seemed darker without Brielle Darrow.
The weeksthat followed were a blur.
Though my healing had been accelerated by Elios, my injuries were far too severe to risk any additional damage. I was forced to rely on a diet consisting primarily of blood, which Calia offered up willingly.
I refused to drink directly from her, knowing my body was already at the limits of self-control after going through such significant loss. Sloane helped by drawing the necessary sustenance from Calia in Anya’s cottage. It was far enough away from me to eliminate the possibility of my inadvertently catching her scent.
Either Jasper or Elios sat in the room with me, ensuring I remained in control and did not fall into a state of bloodlust. I hardly heard them once the haze set in, falling into a slumber of fitful dreams. I hated knowing how dangerous it was for Calia to be near me at present, but I remained steadfast in my decision to keep her at a safe distance.
Elios kept me apprised of Ballard’s condition, explaining how one of the cells below the house had been transformed into a small medical wing to house him. Castor had alerted the Vail of Ballard’s treachery, and guards watched him around the clock.
I did not believe him to be a danger now that Leonora was dead. However, I had not considered him capable of treachery in the first place.
Sloane had not been to visit Ballard since arriving back at the manor, choosing to throw her full attention into my rehabilitation, much to my dismay. She was insufferable, barking orders and running me through intense physical therapy to build back the strength in the muscles that had been shredded under Leonora’s physical barbs.
Jasper and Rowena followed her around like shadows, never letting her out of their sight for a moment. I was not sure of the dynamic of their relationship, often finding the three of them trading longing looks when they thought no one was looking. It was the highlight of my recovery—seeing as I had nothing better to do than meddle in conspiracies with Calia in my free time.
There were many days Sloane would walk into my room, telling me she was done with hovering, territorial vampyres and that she was leaving after she was done with our session.
She always came back.
A meeting was scheduled with the council, alerting them to the extent of Leonora and Renwick’s treachery, including Ballard’s role in their plans. He was stripped of his position as an elder and banned from his coven. Once he regained strength, he was moved to a criminal facility, where he would spend the remainder of his days.
The meeting also offered an opportunity to show the council that Calia was, in fact, alive. However, we kept the knowledge of her heritage a secret as per Elios’ wishes. He insisted the world was not ready for the knowledge of the gods’ presence and did not know how mortals would react, knowing Calia carried their blood in her veins.
To his credit, Lucius kept his face neutral when Calia presented herself. It was his heart that gave his panic away, and I did not know if it was because he had always known the truth of her parentage or something else.
He had fled the chamber as soon as the meeting was dismissed.
In keeping with tradition, I accepted my uncle’s vacated position on the council, knowing it would make my father proud. I did not have his experience; however, I had seen enough prejudice to know our world could not survive separation.
The people of Kallistos deserved better than that.
There was a knock on the door, and Calia came in a moment later. I leaned back in my chair, watching as she slowly walked over with a seductive smile stretched across her face. “Hello, husband,” she purred, dropping a lingering kiss on my lips. “I missed you in bed last night.”
I still had my fair share of night terrors, often brought about by the most insignificant things. Yesterday, I had been walking past my father’s old study, which was being restored to its former glory. Though it looked nearly identical to its predecessor, I glanced at the empty shelves, realizing they would never be filled with the artifacts my father wanted to pass down to me.
I still struggled to articulate my feelings, often finding myself inundated with shame. Though it’d been nearly two months to the day since she died, I still heard Leonora’s voice as clear as a bell when my emotions were heightened.
My wife never ran away from the anxieties that plagued my mind, allowing me to divulge my despair and trauma without balking. Knowing her steadfast love allowed me to fully open my heart to her when I had not done so before. There were no looming repercussions, and for the first time, I was not consumed by the fear of being abandoned.
Calia slid onto my desk, closing the laptop and moving it out of the way so I would focus my attention on her. She was wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of shorts that seemed painted on and showed off her perfect ass.
Gods, there were days I found myself staring at her, wondering if this was real or some kind of dream. Not only was she here, but she was mine, and the thought never failed to send a rush of need straight to my cock.
She placed her feet on either side of my waist, opening her knees so I had the perfect view of her pussy through the spandex material. “I missed you.”
I ran my fingers along her calves, digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. “Not as much as I have missed you.”
From the moment my injuries were healed and I was cleared by Sloane, I had taken to fucking my wife on every available surface in the manor. It did not matter the time of day, or if we had company staying two doors down, I wasted no time sinking into her tight heat anytime I could.
She was nearly as insatiable as I, often seeing how far she could tempt me before I folded. Only yesterday, she slid beneath my desk as I was on an important call and sucked my cock until I was forced to abruptly end the meeting or risk shooting my load on camera.
“We don’t have much time,” she said, moaning as I leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her pussy. She soaked through the fabric, and her scent drove me crazy. It was intoxicating, my favorite drug.
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before,” I growled, running my fingers along the top of her shorts before slowly peeling them down her legs. “Because I do not think I am capable of stopping now.”
Calia arched her back as I ran the pad of my tongue along her wet slit, flicking her clit as I met her gaze. Her succulent mouth parted in an O as she watched me under a dark, hooded gaze.
“Fuck,” she cursed, holding herself upright with one hand while the other held my head to her pussy. “Just like that, Rion.”
I loved when she said my name, especially as I was devouring her sweet cunt.
Her juices dribbled down my chin as I gripped her hips, pulling her close until I could no longer breathe. I wanted to die here in between her legs; I wanted to drown with the taste of her on my tongue.
Her thighs squeezed my head as her pleasure crested, holding me in place until she was shaking with the force of her orgasm. She screamed out, pussy fluttering as she tugged at my hair—either to urge me forward or prompt me to stop. It did not matter; the pain was exquisite, and I wanted more.
“Please, please, please… I can’t take anymore.” She slumped against the desk, begging me to stop as I sucked her clit into my mouth and bit down.
I rose from my seat, towering over her as I ran my fingers through her folds. She whimpered as I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine, letting her taste her own pleasure as I toyed with her body. “You can, love, and you will. I have yet to feel this tight pussy squeezing my cock today.”
Calia’s eyes lit up as she bit her lip and widened her thighs for better access. “The things I endure for you,” she teased.
“Is this what you want, love?” I asked, palming my erection through my slacks.
“Yes,” she breathed, nodding emphatically.
Keeping our gazes locked, I pulled my zipper down and freed my length, giving it a lazy stroke. Calia flicked her eyes down, licking her lips as she noticed the bead of pre-cum at the surface. “Such a good wife,” I murmured, running my tip along her slick center. “Always so eager to take what I give.”
“Yes,” she moaned, tilting her hips so the head of my cock slipped inside. “Please?—”
Calia arched off the desk as I slammed home, burying my head in her neck as her walls fluttered against the intrusion. “Fuck, you feel so good, love,” I whispered, nipping her earlobe.
Leisurely, I rotated my hips, enjoying every small whimper that escaped as I brushed up against her aching nub. I was torn between taking my time and torturing her until she screamed or taking her hard and fast until we were nothing more than a tangle of sweaty limbs.
My choice was made for me as my phone rang, and the screen showed Jasper’s name. “Stay quiet, wife. Or I will be forced to do it myself.” Those green eyes I loved so much sparkled, but she complied as I answered. “What is it?”
“Where are you?” he barked. “You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Sloane and Rowena are threatening to take my balls if I don’t find you.”
Calia bit her lip as I began slowly pumping in and out of her, running my fingers along her thighs wrapped around my waist. “We will be there soon,” I said, enjoying the sight of my wife stifling her pleasure underneath me.
I heard Sloane on the other end, demanding Jasper give her the phone. “Can you kindly stop fucking your wife and get both your asses down here?” She paused, audibly shuddering, adding, “I can’t believe I just said that…”
Calia’s chuckle turned into a moan as I upped my pace and slapped my palm over her mouth to cut off the noise. “I said, we will be there soon.”
“But—”
I hung up before Jasper could say anything more, looking down at Calia, whose face was flushed. “I told you to be quiet,” I murmured, cupping her chin and rubbing her thumb across her lips.
She opened obediently, sucking my digit into her mouth. “Then punish me.”
I stepped back, enjoying the sight of her juices coating my cock as it slipped free before flipping her over. She stood on her tiptoes, begging to be filled. As I lined myself back up, I spread her cheeks and watched her tight little hole pucker up.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. I had yet to take her there despite multiple promises to do so. While today would be no exception, that did not mean I could not torture her in the meantime.
I reached into my top drawer for a little bottle of lube—something my insatiable wife had decided we needed in every room “just in case.” Her eyes widened as I uncapped the top and tipped it over, letting it glide over her entrance.
“Rion—” Her eyes rolled back as I entered her while running the pad of my thumb along her hole. I increased my pressure as she pushed back against me, seeking more of the delicious friction. It was euphoric watching her chase her pleasure, watching her grow needy and wanton with each pass of my digit.
Calia’s head fell forward as I pushed past the tight ring of muscle and began fucking her in tandem. She mewled and clawed and screamed as I pounded into her. Sweat beaded along my brow as I fought to stave off my own pleasure. My enjoyment came from far more than how good it felt. It was also knowing and watching her reaction to the things I did to her body.
Fuck me, she was beautiful.
The soft flesh of her ass jiggled as I pounded into her. All too soon, I felt her begin to quake as I curled my thumb and massaged her walls. “Are you going to come for me, wife?”
She nodded, begging me to keep going. “Gods, yes.”
“Good. Fucking. Girl,” I crooned between thrusts. My fingers bruised her skin as she erupted beneath me, her orgasm shattering any hope I had at staving off my own.
I followed her over the edge, spilling deep inside of her. She pulsed around my cock, the aftershocks milking me until I had nothing left.
I drew my thumb out and leaned forward, kissing her shoulders as she lay limp against the desk. “Stay right there,” I whispered, carefully pulling out and sitting back in my chair. I pulled her cheeks apart, hypnotized at the sight of my release glistening in her cunt. “I will never tire of this,” I said, reaching up and pushing it back inside of her. I met her gaze and murmured, “I will never tire of you.”
The moment was shattered as my phone began ringing again, but I did not answer it. Let them wait. Let everyone wait.
After all, there was no event without us.
“I guess we really need to go,” she laughed, leaning against the desk as she stood on shaky legs.
“If we must,” I sighed, bending forward and picking up her shorts. I stopped before handing them over. “I want my cum spilling out of you as you walk down that aisle later.”
Calia blushed but nodded. “Is this where I should thank you for my wedding present?” She reached up, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me into a soft kiss. “Whatever you say, husband.”
The endearment filled me with immense pride, even more so knowing it would be reaffirmed later today.
The night I asked Calia to re-marry me, my anxiety was so high that I could barely eat the meal I prepared. She asked me a thousand times if I was okay, to which I tried my best to assure her I was. However, I nearly fainted as I dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from my pocket with trembling fingers. Thankfully, she tackled me to the ground and peppered me with a thousand kisses, shouting the word yes after each one.
Was it my most confident moment, letting my nerves best me? Absolutely not. However, it was a healthy emotion, and I looked back on the memory knowing my father would be proud. I was healing.
“Are you sure you want to marry me again?” I asked, cupping her cheek. “This is your last chance…”
She thought about my question, smirking as she replied, “I have a choice? Well… I better think about this?—”
I cut her off, pressing my lips to hers. “Never mind,” I said quickly, throwing her over my shoulder. “Forget I asked.”
“For what it’s worth,” she said, laughing as I smacked her ass, “I will always choose you.”