Chapter 12 #2
Dalkhan chuckled. “I wonder… What will it take to make you beg for me?”
I nearly choked at the promise in his voice. Instead, I clenched my jaw, forcing words out through gritted teeth. “I don’t beg. Not for anyone, and definitely not for you.”
His face hovered before mine, so close I could taste his breath.
“You will.”
My insides clenched with anticipation.
His bottom lip just barely grazed mine before he pulled away. His grip tightened. For half a heartbeat he froze, then abruptly began walking us with quick, annoyed strides back toward the rocky edge.
With visible reluctance, he set me back on the stone ledge, more forcefully than necessary.
Confusion swept through me, mingling with the frustrated desire still throbbing in my veins.
Dalkhan was already moving out of the water.
I scrambled upright, droplets streaming from my clothes “Did I—”
“No.” He turned his head to the side, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. “I’m needed elsewhere. Now.”
He crossed back to me, tilting my chin up.
“Don’t pout.” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “You’ll be screaming my name soon enough.”
Then the world shattered around us. Or at least, if felt like it.
As he pulled me through whatever magic he commanded, reality twisted violently, and the world lurched before snapping back into place.
Suddenly, the viewing balcony stretched before me, and the deafening roar of the crowd filled my ears.
I staggered, reeling from the abrupt shift.
Dalkhan looked over me one last time, hunger and something like regret written in his eyes. Then with a rush of smoke and flame that made the air shimmer, he was gone.
I was still trying to piece myself back together when the others joined me on the balcony.
Jasila was among them, sweat glistening on her dark skin. Her knowing eyes took in my dishevelled appearance.
Theo halted mid-stride when he saw me, his brows shooting up in surprise. “Why are you soaking wet?”
I ignored him, turning to Mira instead. “We should go.”
Jasila’s lips twitched with suppressed amusement, her eyes gleaming with knowledge she mercifully kept to herself.
The others fell into conversation, their voices filling the space behind us as we walked back inside.
Mira stepped back admiring her work. She’d spent the last few moments adding delicate touches to make me stand out even more.
I sighed but didn’t argue.
Mira arched a perfect brow, her expression playful. “Aren’t you going to complain that a boob might fall out?”
I barked out a laugh, shaking my head. “That’s your plan, isn’t it?”
Her grin was shameless. “Always.”
Warmth curled around my chest, comforting yet bittersweet.
How was I supposed to leave her here? How was I supposed to leave at all?
Besides my mother, I had nothing back in the mortal realm. Here I felt seen. I wasn’t just existing. Even Jasila wasn’t as unbearable as she used to be.
As if summoned by a mere thought, Jasila walked in, with Theo and Tavrik flanking her like twin shadows. Her voice was calm, so different from the sharp-tongue woman I’d come to know.
“Tonight, we offer thanks to our king.” She looked at each of us in turn. “You will approach, bow, express your gratitude, and return to your seat.”
Theo huffed and rolled his eyes.
Jasila’s glare could’ve cut through stone.
I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing when he flinched. She turned on her heel, and we followed her lead.
The throne room was packed, a sea of people pressing forward, eager for their turn to offer thanks. The firelight cast twisting shadows over their bowed heads as they stepped before Dalkhan, murmuring words of reverence.
One by one, women approached his throne. Their movements were slow, backs arching in displays of submission. Fingertips lingered as they traced along his arm, as if seeking to imprint their touch onto his skin as they whispered intimate confessions of gratitude into his ear.
Dalkhan indulged in each offering with a wicked smirk. He allowed each touch, each sultry glance to continue as long as they dared.
Fury burned through me, each brush of their hands another strike against my patience.
Tavrik and Theo stepped forward first, bowing stiffly in a display of forced obedience. Their words of thanks were clipped and devoid of emotion, delivered through gritted teeth. Dalkhan hardly spared them a glance as they swiftly took their seats.
Then it was my turn.
The moment my gaze met his, the world around us faded.
Dalkhan reclined in his throne, exuding effortless dominance. The firelight carved shadows across his face. The tip of his tongue flicked out, wetting his full lower lip.
I didn’t mean to catch the movement, but my eyes betrayed me, lingering a fraction too long.
A slow smirk pulled the corner of his mouth. He had trapped my weakness—snared it between his fingers.
The rhythmic tap-tap-tap against the arm of his throne sent a shiver through me.
“Well?” he asked, voice low. Though he appeared relaxed, there was nothing idle about the way he watched me, the way his hands flexed, as if resisting the urge to reach out. “What are you thankful for?”
The space had gone silent. Dozens of Jinn were waiting. Watching.
He was testing me.
If he wanted a game. I would play.
I stepped forward, letting the movement stretch between us. Leaning in, I lowered my voice to a sultry whisper.
“I’m thankful for your tongue.”
Dalkhan inhaled sharply, his entire body going still. The flames licking at his knuckles flared.
The amusement drained from his expression, replaced by raw hunger.
Though he didn’t physically touch me, I felt him everywhere.
Power curled around my body like smoke, ghosting over my skin. A whisper of sensation trailed along my collarbone, teasing my sensitive throat. His invisible grip slid over my waist, down my thighs, parting them just enough to make me shudder.
Pleasure rushed though me as his touch brushed over my most sensitive place.
A deep, approving rumble vibrated through his chest.
Asshole.
He was enjoying every second of my torment.
Before he could unravel me completely, I turned away. His attention was a searing heat tracking my every movement—every sway of my hips as I slid into my seat, directly in his line of sight.
The ceremony continued. More people stepped forward, their voices rising in prayer and gratitude, but Dalkhan’s focus never left me.
When the last offering was made, it was finally time to eat.
Theo sat beside Mira, telling her stories between bites of food. Tavrik was next to Jasila, tension crackling between them like lightning.
The night carried on, the air light with laughter and conversation. I let my guard down, focusing on my plate. It was laden with mouthwatering stew, the rich flavours warming me.
Then a whisper of a touch glided over my skin.
I almost choked on a piece of beef.
I snapped my head up.
Dalkhan was still reclined in his throne, but his chest was heaving a fraction too heavily—his fingers drumming restlessly against his knee in a rhythm that matched my own racing heart.
His power coiled around me again, those invisible hands pressing, stroking, teasing with increasing boldness.
His voice in my mind was a dark, velvet caress.
“I want to taste you again.”
A soft, helpless sound escaped me before I could stop it.
Theo and Tavrik’s gazes snapped to me.
I cleared my throat, forcing out an awkward laugh. “The food is so good.”
They exchanged a confused, suspicious glance before returning to their conversations.
But Dalkhan wasn’t finished with me. Not even close.
His unseen touch dragged up my inner thigh. I clenched my legs together to gain some form of friction, my hands tightening into fists beneath the table. It felt so good. A little too good.
His power pressed insistently against me, coaxing my legs apart. When I resisted, the force increased, until my thighs fell open beneath my dress.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood as his voice slithered back into my mind.
“I want to seat you on my throne…”
The sensation between my legs intensified, mimicking the feel of fingers.
“…and kneel before you. To worship between your thighs until you’re sobbing my name. Until your sweet cunt is gushing against my tongue. Until you’re leaking down my chin and begging for mercy I’ll never give.”
I gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood creaked.
A strangled whimper caught in my throat as the invisible pressure slid into me, curling against that spot that made my vision blur at the edges.
Across the hall, Dalkhan shifted, his posture still deceptively casual, but his skin was flushed with desire. One hand gripped the armrest with white-knuckled intensity.
His other hand… his other hand slid down his thigh to rest over the visible bulge straining against his pants.
He wanted me to watch. To see what I was doing to him.
My body ached, the tension between us winding tighter and tighter. I couldn’t sit still any longer. I would shatter in front of everyone.
As if sensing my limit, Dalkhan stood. The hall fell into immediate silence as all rose to bow.
When he passed my chair, he paused, turning his head to fix me with a stare so hungry, it felt like physical consumption. A silent command. An invitation.
He traced a final phantom touch over my lips before turning and walking away.
We sat back down, but my body ached. My skin burning with the need to follow.
Excusing myself, I slipped away, my entire being alight with unfulfilled desire.
I needed him like air. I wanted him like salvation.
I would have him like damnation.
The moment I crossed the threshold into the dimly lit hallway, Dalkhan drove me back against the cold stone. His body caged mine, palms flat against the rock on either side of my head.
One look. That’s all it took. One glance at my swollen lips, heaving chest, and the raw need carved across my face, and something inside him snapped.