Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Rayven
I was pretty sure I’d never been wetter in my life.
Things hadn’t exactly gone to plan though. I figured at least one of the items needed for the ritual would include something sexual. He’d alluded to it, after all.
What I hadn’t planned on was for him to shift into his larger form. Seeing the giant skull-headed monster had thrown me.
My plan was simple: play the part of the confused girl caught off guard by his advances, then boom, knife to his throat. I knew the threat and faux danger would drive him wild.
Too bad he discovered the blade before I had a chance to pull it on him.
“Tell me why you have this, Rayven.” The rumble of his voice sent shivers skittering down my spine.
A chill crept under my skin and sank down to my marrow at the way the blue flames in his sockets crackled.
Oof. Maybe this had been a bad plan after all.
“Were you going to use this on me?” His cadence was steel-wrapped velvet.
“I wasn’t going to try to hurt you, I never would.” I shook my head. “I thought it would be exciting to use during sex. It was stupid; I should have run it by you beforehand—“
His long, wicked tongue slipped out to roll over one of his deadly incisors. “Do you think knives are playthings?”
His words were chastising, while his tone bled with hunger. He edged closer on his knees, making a shiver rattle down my spine, and I stepped backward. There was something deliciously menacing about the way he crept closer, like a beast ready to pounce.
“Well, they can be, when used with caution,” I explained, my voice faltering when he moved closer. I took another step back, the backs of my legs hitting the edge of my throne. “Especially when you’re immortal.”
The blue flames deep in his eye sockets sputtered and grew, as if gasoline had been poured onto them.
He moved closer still, and I fell back onto my throne, the skirt of my dress bouncing with the fall.
With a sinister chuckle, Belial’s hands shoved the mountain of fabric up my legs, exposing me to him, and a waft of cold air kissed my inner thighs.
His skull drifted closer to my spread center, and he held the knife’s hilt to my exposed pussy. I sucked it a gasp when the hilt nudged against my folds.
The Lord of Bones chuckled at my reaction, making his burning eyes dance. “What about now, my Queen? Still think knives are fuck toys?”
Slowly, I nodded.
He didn’t have flesh or muscles on his head to make expressions, yet somehow I knew he was caught off guard by my answer.
And I knew that he was pleased.
“I love you so much, Rayven.”
Those words, fuck me. They were sweet and gentle, which was delicious paired with the fact that, at this moment, he began to push the dagger hilt inside me.
The hilt wasn’t nearly as girthy as my demon lord in either of his forms, and it slipped into my pussy with ease.
“Let’s see how much you can swallow.”
I could sheath him to the balls in either form, so it came as no surprise when the entire dagger’s handle fit inside me. The guard prevented it from going any deeper.
He pulled it out half way, then pushed it back in with enough force to make my head slam back against my throne, my eyes rolling into my skull.
Before I could fully recover, he pulled it out and shoved it back in rapid succession, each thrust perfectly measured.
He knew my limits, and got so close each time, only to draw back and give me just enough recovery time before pushing me to the brink all over again.
His ministrations set every part of my being on fire.
“I–I’m about to come,” I babbled. My hands gripped the arms of my throne, holding on for dear life, as he fucked me with the weapon handle. With the way it was shaped, tapered on both ends and a swell in the middle, it pushed against my walls in a way that brought stars to my eyes.
“Not you’re not.”
He withdrew the dagger from me with an obscene sound as the hilt’s bulge was dislodged from my pussy and tossed it aside. It fell straight into the River Styx, which ran directly in front of our thrones, with a wet plop.
There was no time to mourn my dagger. My world spun as I felt huge claw-tipped hands on me, uprooting me from my throne. For a second, I was floating. Then, Belial sat on my throne, tucking me in his lap. We were chest to chest, with my folded legs flanking his hips.
It was a tight squeeze for both of us in my throne, since he was in his monster form. But we had a knack for making things fit.
“Take me out.” He wasn’t asking. The Lord of Bones had issued a demand, and I was to obey.
More often than not, I liked that power dynamic in bed. He was deliciously dominant with me most of the time, but right now, I was feeling every bit the queen I was.
Instead of following the command, I reached out with my magic, drawing power from my bond with Belial, siphoning his arcane energy like a battery and transferring it into my own. His shoulders flexed, tendons and battle-honed muscle stretching taut as he felt me steal from him.
“Little thief—” His hand came up to take hold of my throat, but he froze when the River Styx began to ripple.
Various bones and bits of rotting flesh bubbled to the surface.
Then, bodies in various states of decomposition emerged from the water, some full forms—others nothing more than hands stretching from the crimson current.
“What are they…” I never heard the Lord of Bones grave-deep baritone so rife with disbelief. The souls in the River Styx rose to my call, forming a line down the river. He muttered something beneath his breath in the Old tongue when he realized what they were doing.
One of the souls had caught the dagger, and they were passing it upstream via the chain they’d created.
As soon as the dagger was in the clutches of a skeleton directly before the throne, he tossed it in my direction. I caught it, removed the scabbard with my teeth, and pressed the knife to my mate’s throat.
Belial didn’t move. Well, save for the swelling in his pants. “You stole my magic and used it to command the legions of the dead.”
The intense atmosphere was so electric now that I could feel it bouncing between us, drawing us closer like magnets.
“Seduced?” I murmured, with the coy arch of a brow.
“Monsterously so,” he growled.
When it came to the matter of his arousal, monstrous was the perfect descriptor. Especially in this form.
Belial was a well-endowed male in his lesser form, bigger than any mortal man I'd ever been with. As the Lord of Bones? It was a good thing he'd given me the gift of immortality, because a girl could seriously hurt herself on the massive weapon he packed between his legs.
"You know what, darling?" I flung him a sweet smile, which reflected in the well-polished blade at his throat. "I think I'm going to be in charge this time around. If you'd like to fuck your queen, you're going to have to beg me for the privilege."
If he had flesh around his nostrils, they would have flared. Instead, he huffed and a cloud of smoke blew from the holes in his snout. "The Lord of Bones doesn't beg."
My smile stretched wider, creeping into manic territory. "You do with me. Now, beg me if you want to fuck me. It's been awhile since you've buried that ribbed cock inside my pussy. I'm sure you're aching for it. Aren't you?"
He didn't answer, but he didn't have to. With the way I was positioned in his lap, I could feel every inch of his reaction to me. He was harder than ever, with a wet spot growing right where his tip sat, pressing into my bare center through his pants.
I pushed the blade of my dagger closer to his throat. "I'm waiting."
He swallowed, and with the position of the blade, the edge sliced his throat. Pearls of blood so dark it was nearly black gathered on the fresh wound and smeared the steel weapon.
I gasped in horror; I didn't mean to hurt him. But when I tried to pull away, he captured my wrist and tugged me closer, the blade cutting him deeper. He didn't so much as waiver, or show any signs of pain.
“You’re hurt!” I tried to pull the blade back but his grip on my wrist was like a manacle. “You need to close this wound.”
A guttural growl, so low it was almost a hum, rumbled from his chest. It rattled through me, down to my bones, and heat spiraled through my core, settling between my thighs.
I squeaked in surprise when he wedged his hand beneath me, freeing his cock from his breeches. “The only thing I need right now is to be buried inside your tight cunt. Please. Please, allow me to fuck you my queen.”
Complete, utter shock had my eyes shooting open. Once I collected myself, I shook my head, but he hit me with another barrage of pleas—this time, the demon’s voice trembled with unbridled need.
Death didn’t give too shits about the fact that his slit throat was oozing blood—he was deathless.
“Finish what you started, human. You want me to beg? Want me to bleed for you? I’ve given you both. If I have yet to earn the privilege of worshipping my queen in every way she deserves, then tell me what else I must do.”
His blood-streaked chest rose and fell slow and heavy, and the flames of his eyes burned so bright and hot I could barely stand to look at him. In spite of the searing pain, I held his gaze, and after what felt like an eternity, I nodded.
Relief and chaos unfolded in the following moments.
The Lord of Bones released my wrist, and I allowed the knife to slip from my clutch; it clattered to the ground a second later. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I lifted myself onto my knees and, without having to exchange a single syllable, he knew what to do.
He gripped the base of his cock and rubbed the shaft against my thigh.
The texture was gloriously tactile. In this form, the underside of his shaft had a series of ridges that branched out, wrapping around the sides.
While the rest of his cock was a faint blue hue, the ridges were bone white, bearing the resemblance of a ribcage.
“Yes. Fuck me, My Lord.”
His hands clutched my hipbones, claws digging into my flesh through the dress and causing it to shred. I didn’t care.
Pushing down on my hips and jerking his upward, he thrust inside me with one ruthless punch. White-hot sizzling pain shot up my back as my body stretched to take the monstrous appendage.
A warbled sound, caught somewhere between a cry of pain and a moan of pleasure, tore from my throat.
“Your mortal cunt is so tight,” he said on a fragmented groan. “And you’re so wet for me.”
In an uncharacteristic act of mercy, he held me there for a heartbeat, allowing my body to adjust to him. The thing was, with how worked up I’d become, I was so wet and eager, I didn’t need that moment. All it did was drive my lust to dangerously heightened levels.
“I said fuck me!” I snarled at the demon, my voice echoing through the throne room.
He didn’t need to be told again. Keeping his grip clamped around my sides, he lifted me up, then drove me back down again—a grunt tripping from his throat each time. The pace quickened. His biceps flexed, the flames in his eyes bringing beads of sweat to my brow.
Blood continued to dribble from his wound, coated his abs and stained my dress. A pool of crimson gathered in his lap, and next thing I knew, we were fucking in it.
When his hands fell away from my hips, one palming my ass and the other knotting in my hair, I took control and bounced on his member with a rhythm that kept up with the one he’d set.
The rippling of his ridges gliding in and out of my pussy had me slack-jawed.
His huge black tongue wriggled out to lap up the bead of drool leaking from the corner of my mouth.
Thick fingers tightened in my hair, making my skull sting as he pushed my head down to direct my attention to my lap. “Lift your dress, but don’t stop.”
I did as I was told, gathering the fabric as best I could while continuing to ride him. The dress was soaking, and when I lifted it up, what met me was obscene. His thick, ribbed member pistoned into me, a creamy ring of my own arousal gathered around the base of his shaft. Blood was everywhere.
I rocked my hips, the sound of my own animal noises, along with the wet slap of his body meeting mine, driving me into a delirious state of madness.
“S–so… cl-close,” I stammered between moans.
He drove his hips up to meet me half way. Ferocious, unhinged movements that rattled my skull turned my brain to soup. “Come for me, my queen.”
The demon lord of death painted a lick to my mouth, the kiss sweet while the rest of his body slammed into me with brutal resolve.
I screamed as this otherworldly sensation took me by the throat.
Then, out of nowhere, a jar appeared in Belial’s hand and he held it to my mouth. My hot breath clouded the glass and he clapped the lid onto the jar in an instant, as if not to let whatever he’d captured loose.
Delirious and confused, I went limp against his chest. “W-what’s that?”
“A woman’s pleasured breath. It was the last ingredient we needed for the spell.”