Chapter 29
Gold bars and golden eyes
JUDE
Lorien stalks around his chamber, a predator in every breath and every movement.
His golden eyes flash as he paces, the dark pulse of his power thrumming through the air like a storm on the edge of a breaking point.
I feel the weight of it all, like I’m being suffocated by something far heavier than just the looming danger.
I stand in the center of the room, my collar digging into my throat.
It’s still a symbol of my captivity and place, even if I’ve accepted what’s happening.
His dark gaze flicks over me, taking in my stillness, and I can’t tell if it’s the tension between us or the threat in his eyes that makes me shiver.
“So now you know what my council thinks of you,” Lorien says, his voice low, thick with barely contained rage. “They want you dead, Jude. They expect me to kill you.”
I swallow, the heat of his gaze burning through me. His words make my chest tighten, a knot of dread and something else I can’t name curling deep in my gut. I know he’s dangerous—he’s always been dangerous—but there’s a different power in him now, something raw, like a force barely kept at bay.
The silence stretches until I think I’m going to break. He stops in front of me, looming tall and unyielding, his golden skin glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. His hand reaches for my collar, fingers brushing against the cold metal.
I flinch, but I don’t pull away.
“You know,” he continues, his voice a whisper. “I could punish you for what happened. For making me attack one of my generals. One of my best generals. For letting them think you’re anything other than what you are to me.”
My heart stutters. His hand shifts lower, his thumb grazing over the spot where the collar meets my skin. The feeling is electric, and my pulse quickens, responding before I can stop it. I used to hate how much his touch affected me, how it sunk under my skin like a toxin I can’t rid myself of.
Now I can’t stop myself from needing it. I crave it, as I crave him, and I’m teetering on the verge of madness, wondering what I’ll offer him to give me more.
His lips curl into something like a smirk, but there’s no humor in it.
The heat of his anger radiates off him, and his proximity and raw power presses against me, and I can’t think straight. I’m trapped in the storm of him, with nowhere to run, nothing to shield myself from the pull of his dominance. Not that I’d want to.
“Do you think you’re safe?” he growls, his voice barely above a whisper, though the threat is unmistakable. “Do you think I’ll spare you because of what happened tonight?”
I shake my head, barely able to keep my legs steady.
I don’t know how much longer I can stand still, how much longer I can fight this hunger in me that burns when he’s near.
It’s not just fear, not just the need to survive.
It hasn’t been for a long time, and I already knew I’d fallen for the man before the sargath attacked.
Lorien steps closer, and the heat of his breath against my ear sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you think I’ll spare you because you saved me?”
I inhale sharply, the room feeling smaller with every passing second, suffocating me with the dark tension between us. And then his lips are on my neck, biting down just enough to send a flash of pain through me.
The pain is good. It makes me feel real.
“No, little human. You’re far from safe. But I suppose that’s what makes it so much fun.”
I suppress a whimper and he laughs.
“Tell me, Jude,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice like molten honey, “do you think you’ll beg me for mercy?”
His hand slides down, fingers trailing lower, and my body betrays me, shuddering under his touch. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The arousal inside me is waking, thrumming in time with his power, pushing me to the edge.
“No,” I manage to whisper, my voice a breathless rasp. “I won’t beg.”
His laugh is dark, predatory. “We’ll see about that.”
Lorien’s fingers tighten in my hair, and before I can react, he yanks me forward, pulling me down to my knees in one sharp motion. The floor is cold against my skin, but the heat of his presence burns through it, searing into me.
“On your knees,” he commands, his voice low and full of authority. “This is where you belong, Jude. Remember this position.”
My heart races, a frantic thrum that I can’t quiet, even as my body instinctively responds to the harshness of his touch.
The sane part of me wants to pull away, to break free from the pressure he’s putting on me, but I can’t.
Not with the weight of his dominance crushing me down, nor with the excitement building inside my core.
His fingers curl under my chin, tilting my head back so I’m forced to look up at him. His golden eyes burn through me, piercing, all-consuming.
“Tell me, little human,” he purrs, the words like a slow, twisted caress, “how much longer do you think you’ll last like this?”
I swallow, my throat dry. “I’m not weak, Master.”
He smiles, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “No, not weak.” He runs a finger across my jawline, a teasing, languid motion that makes me shiver. “You’re just so fucking eager to please me, aren’t you?”
I don’t respond immediately, but I feel the heat rise in my face, my body betraying me again. His laughter is dark, low, and rich with hunger.
“You don’t have to answer. I already know.” His fingers tighten around my chin, holding me in place. “You thought you could resist me, but you can’t, Jude. You never could. You are mine.”
Lorien’s fingers leave my jaw, trailing lower, deliberate and unhurried as they skim down my throat, over the collar that marks me as his. My breath stutters when he reaches the laces of his trousers, his touch a ghost of a promise, wicked in its patience.
He tugs at them, just enough to make me feel the pull, the weight of his control.
My stomach tightens, anticipation winding through me like a live wire.
I should be afraid—of him, of this, of how easily he reduces me to nothing with just a touch—but fear isn’t what’s making my pulse hammer against my ribs.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his golden eyes molten with amusement, with hunger. His fingers tighten around the fabric, pulling again, teasing, not giving me what I need but making sure I feel every second of the wait.
My breath comes faster. My thighs tremble where I kneel, heat pooling low in my stomach, spreading through me like the pull of an unseen tide. He hasn’t even touched me, not really, and already I’m lost to him, to this unbearable need that coils tighter with every deliberate, agonizing second.
“You’re already shaking,” Lorien muses, his voice silk and steel, full of dark satisfaction. “Do you have any idea how much I enjoy seeing you like this, Jude?”
I can’t answer. I don’t trust my voice.
He tsks, tugging the fabric lower, just enough to make me gasp. “No words now? That’s fine, baby. I’ll have you begging soon enough.”
His cock’s even more intimidating this close.
It’s throbbing, already glistening with precum, already a threat that sends my arousal into overdrive.
My mouth goes dry, and yet, God help me, my body leans forward of its own accord, drawn to the heat of him, to the power coiled in every inch of his golden, merciless form.
“Look at you, Jude. You pretend to fight me, pretend you still have defiance left, but down here?” His hips shift forward, his cock just shy of touching my lips. “You know exactly who you belong to.”
I exhale shakily, my thighs squeezing together, humiliated at how much I want this, at how my body betrays me every time. And God, I want this. I’m getting off on the humiliation, and it’s another thing Lorien knew about me before I recognized it in myself.
He runs the tip of his cock over my lips, tilting my chin up as he forces me to meet his gaze. His golden eyes burn with possession, with untold darkness and devastation.
“Say it,” he commands, his voice velvet and razors. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Heat rushes through me, shame and arousal tangling so tightly I can’t tell one from the other. Weeks ago, I’d have resisted. Weeks ago, I’d have bitten back, fought back. But we both know the truth. We both know that fight is done and that all that’s left is surrender and damnation.
“You,” I whisper.
Lorien hums in approval, his grip on my hair tightening. “Good boy.”
Then he presses forward, his cock hot and heavy against my lips, and I part for him without a second thought.
His dick is impossibly large and I gag as his thrusts deepen, and Lorien doesn’t slow his pace.
He’s steady, measured even. He’s pushing me while giving me the time I need, and my core tightens as I understand he’s teaching me.
Not teaching me, training me. And as much as that should appall me, it’s exactly what I want.
His cock slides into my throat and I force myself to relax, hollowing my cheeks to let my mouth accommodate him. Lorien’s cock hits the back of my throat again and his hand tightens its grip on my hair, forcing me to accept what’s happening.
I can’t move, even if I wanted to.
And I honestly don’t.
Lorien’s pace quickens now he has me where he wants, and his thrusts deepen.
He moves with freedom, groaning and breathing hard as his pleasure builds and then he slows, bringing himself down from his high only to chase it once again.
He’s more determined this time, thrusting harder and ignoring any attempt I make to protest as he slides his cock further down my throat.
Saliva drools down my face as I try to keep pace with him, trying to match the speed and intensity of his rhythm. But it’s damn near impossible and Lorien groans as his hips move even faster, and his cock spills precum into my mouth as he gets dangerously close to climax.
He’s not going to hold back. Not this time.