Chapter 11 #2
Freya’s shoulders relax. “Fuck prophecies and destiny. I’m going to carve my own place in this world and I’m going to choose it. I mean, probably through cunning, sneakiness, and thievery.”
“Your best qualities.”
She rewards me with a kiss. “Want to see what I can steal to brush your wings this morning?”
My eyes become half-hooded.
I drop her hand and fall like an angelic sacrifice back onto the sheets, stretching my white wings out wide. “That’s right, worship your god, Omega.”
Freya snorts, which is rude, before scrambling over me and elbowing her god in the stomach.
I regain my elegant pose, displaying myself on the ivory sheets as sensually as I was taught to in the Courtesan Guild.
Like this, I can’t hide that I am already at half-mast just from the thought of my soulmate’s soft hands sliding through my sensitive feathers.
My balls ache.
I can’t stop myself tensing like I always do when Freya moves further away from me and she is lost to the shadows of the room, blurred by every step that she takes from me, as if she has been reduced to the ghost that I swore she wasn’t.
Every time that she moves too far from me, and I am unable to see more than her outline, I worry that I will lose my sight completely at any moment.
Then it will have been the last time that I have ever looked upon my beautiful soulmate.
I can’t miss a single opportunity. I need to live each moment to the full.
My breathing speeds up.
What if it is…?
I listen out keenly to the sounds of Freya rifling through something metallic, possibly beads. She is searching for the brush, I guess.
I like the idea that she is stealing another king’s precious personal belongings for me.
“I bet bat-face’s expression will be amusing, when he notices my white feathers in his brush,” I say, smugly.
“I’m not going to use Lanlin’s brush. I found something better.” Freya’s voice is laced with a seductive excitement, which goes straight to my cock.
She hasn’t suggested anything that hasn’t ended in the best way for both of us.
My lips curl into a smile, before I sniff. “Smells like Lanlin.”
“It’s incense oil.” Freya rushes back to the bed, clambering on and straddling me. “You wanted to be worshiped.”
I suck in a breath, as her pussy rubs across my cock.
She teases her slicked folds against me several more times, before scooting up to rest her arse on my chest. I stare up adoringly at the gorgeous sight of her breasts swinging above me.
I would die and burn in hell to be able to suck and lick her pebbled nipples until she comes.
I’m distracted out of my happy daydream by the smell of the jar being opened.
My nose wrinkles.
Freya drops something into her palm, before resting the jar to the side. Then she leans over me to caress the oil through the outer, iridescent feathers of my right wing.
I keen.
The sensation on my sensitive wing is like Freya is rubbing her hand directly over the sensitive head of my cock. Except, it’s more intimate: An emotional connection that binds my soul to hers.
It makes me want to fly with her high into the skies, as my ancestors would their soulmates, while she strokes my wings, claiming me as an Omega should their Alpha.
Only a soulmate has a right to touch their Alpha’s wings.
Too many other people have got handsy with my wings since the dragons captured me.
Yet Freya has seemed to understand, despite not being a fae, that brushing and tending for my wings is what I have needed to feel…unviolated…again.
We protect each other. She is only person who I fully trust in the entire realms.
Her touch is soft but relentless.
Freya’s long hair sweeps across my shoulder, as she leans down to press kisses onto my feathers, in between anointing me with the oil.
My hips hump off the bed.
Desire pulses through me. My toes curl.
“You’re l-l-lucky that fae d-don’t get jealous.” My eyelashes flutter.
“Hmm?”
“Is this role p-play?” I gasp. “You’re b-b-bringing your other Alpha into the b-bed.”
I clutch onto the bed sheets, willing myself not to come.
Not yet.
This feels too bloody good.
Freya glances at me from underneath her eyelashes. “You smell like Lanlin. But you don’t look like him.” She nuzzles my neck, before daringly biting without drawing blood. My cock twitches. “You don’t taste like him.”
My wolf wants to play.
I grin. “So, you’re the vampire in the bed…?”
With a speed that takes Freya by surprise and using a move that was learned on the battlefield and not in bed, I twist out from underneath her. With a flap of my wings, I reverse our positions, pinning her underneath me.
Our noses are touching.
Freya blinks up at me like she can’t work out how she lost control of the situation.
“If you wanted me to bite, love,” my smile is dangerous, “then you only had to ask.”
I lower my mouth to my bond bite on her neck.
“Yes,” Freya whispers frantically, pushing her hips against mine.
I groan, when I feel how wet with slick she is already.
I lick across the bond bite once, teasingly.
Freya jolts like she has been hit by lightning.
I bare my sharp canines, then I lower them across the bond mark, shoving her thighs apart with my knees, as my perfumed wings beat hard.
Wild and primal, I fix my teeth in Freya’s neck, reconnecting with her where she is most sensitive, as I have been desperate to ever since I knew that she was going to be handed over to another Alpha.
I don’t bite hard enough to draw blood; the imprint of my teeth is enough.
She screams, and I thrust into her pussy, hard and deep.
She clutches onto my wings, digging in just as hard as I fuck her.
Neither of us relent like we’re in a contest with each other. We don’t need words and we don’t stop.
I grab Freya by the wrists, keeping her held in place.
I piston into her, driving her toward a pleasure, which I can feel is already shaking her apart.
Our bodies are slick with sweat. She moans.
She curls her fingers into my plumage just on the right side of pleasurepain. I throw back my head and howl.
My hips stutter, and I come.
“Alpha…” Freya arches underneath me wild in her ecstasy.
I keep holding her underneath me, drinking in how she looks. Having her to myself in bed, calling me Alpha, loving me even when I let out my dark side but still treating her as my precious Omega, is not only special to me.
It’s one of the memories that I want branded into my mind for when I am lost to the shadows.
Breathing hard, we both chuckle.
“You don’t think that oil was an aphrodisiac, right?” Freya gasps.
I smirk. “Flattering, but that was all me.”
“You surprise me.”
“I thought that was only when I do that thing with my tongue,” I reply to enjoy the pretty blush that spreads across her cheeks.
Freya mock glares at me. “Go get the bowl and wet cloth.”
I freeze.
Where is the bowl and cloth? Is it still on the desk?
If it isn’t, then I’ll give myself away that I can’t see well.
Freya rolls her eyes. “Lazy fae. Did a good fuck tire you out? Let me up.”
I roll off her, relieved and more relaxed than I have been in days, as she wanders off to retrieve the cloth herself.
Then I lose all good feelings at the startled tone in her voice.
“Have you seen these drawings?” Freya hisses.
Instantly, I sit up. “What ones?”
“I did do my spy duty and check through this desk, which is a real mess.” Freya sounds horrified. “Even though I can tell that some of the parchments are covered in hieroglyph magic, however, unfortunately I can’t read them. It is a fatal flaw in my whole spy mission.”
“Are you sounding panicked because it’s a mess? Not everyone is as neat as Aurelius,” I reply, warily.
If Freya is horrified about a little disorder, then she would have hated my army. Sometimes, our beds were no more than piles of leaves, our camps were no more than untamed glades, and our homes were the chaos of nature.
I’m all for chaos.
“It’s why I didn’t look through every single parchment,” Freya continues. “When I moved the bronze water bowl, it was leaning against this.”
I work hard not to show that I don’t know what she is clearly waving at me agitatedly. “And what has upset you so much?”
“The roll of parchments are filled with fucking nightmares.”
“We all have nightmares. Also, we are sleeping with the best assassin in the realms and not a cute bunny.”
I wince at the sharpness I can feel both whipping through the bond and in Freya’s footsteps marching back to the bed.
I jump, as a heavy roll of parchments land in my lap.
“Look at them,” Freya insists.
I unroll the parchments, holding them up. “May the Shadow Gods preserve us…”
Shadow Vampires being burned alive…wrapped in crimson ribbons, before being held under the waters of lotus ponds…weeping as soldiers raise maces above their heads…being bent over an ornate silver altar that sears their skin as blades rest across their throats…
They’re beautiful drawings of death.
Pages…and pages…and pages…of executions and murders.
I’m numb.
If I was faced with my own killings — in battle or assassinations — how many pages would they fill?
Would I have the courage to face them?
Is this what Lanlin is doing? Cataloging his kills? Facing his guilt or relishing in his triumphs?
“Is this the darkness inside him?” Freya whispers. “Has he done this?”
“Or are these only fantasies?” I feel sick, but also, like I’m missing something.
“They’re my nightmares,” Lanlin’s hard voice says from the doorway.
I drop the parchments in shock. “May the Shadow Devils blind you; I am hanging a bell around your neck.”
“You are welcome to try and put it there.”
“Pass.”
I hear Shadow and Devil prowl into the room and settle into their bed, making soft chuffs.
“What do you mean,” Freya demands, “nightmares?”