Chapter 19 Rhyland
Rhyland
"When do we leave?"
Dani's curled up on our bed, breaking down everything she and Seraphina discovered about Zephyria. Or should I say fucking ásgard? Because apparently, they're in the same goddamn realm. Perfect.
"Whenever you're ready," she says calmly, which makes my predator instinct go haywire.
The thought of leaving the mansion ties my guts in knots.
That psychotic bitch Lilith is out there somewhere, probably plotting her next twisted move with half of my mother's cursed stone.
Yeah, Emily and Sable turned this place into a supernatural fortress—their magic could probably handle an atomic blast. But this is Lilith we're talking about.
That sadistic cunt will burn the world to get what she wants.
And what she wants is me.
That fucking nightmare still haunts me—watching her rip out Lucian's heart, using Dani like a plaything. The worst part? I wouldn't put any of that shit past her. My maker's got millennia of practice turning people's worst fears into reality.
"Hey..." Dani slides off the bed with that grace that makes my mouth go dry. Her hand finds my chest, trailing up to my neck like she owns every fucking inch—which she does. "Stop brooding, Mr. Growly. You'll give yourself wrinkles, and then what will the other demigods think?"
She forces me to meet her gold eyes swirling with flecks of silver.
"The fortress of supernatural sass is locked down tight.
Seraphina and the walking smartass will keep the council in line—probably with a healthy mix of wisdom and inappropriate jokes.
It's just you, me, and Mr. Stoic on this field trip to Cloud City.
We'll grab the shiny rock and be back before you know it. '"
Her confidence makes me fucking melt. After everything she's been through—the assault, the blood violation, the whole fucking nightmare—she's still standing here, stronger than ever.
When I think something might finally break her, she comes back swinging with that sass and fire that made me fall for her in the first place.
She's handled every cosmic curveball like a champ—finding out about her sister and dealing with her father's gold-plated indifference when she needed him most. My fierce little warrior just takes it all in stride, turning trauma into armor and pain into power.
I crush her against me, my hands spanning her waist as I yank her flush to my body. Those molten-gold eyes darken instantly, pupils blown wide with desire until only a thin ring of gold remains. "Mr. Growly? The fuck? I don't growl—that much, Angel."
"Oh please," Dani laughs, the sound going straight to my cock as I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her addictive scent that makes my fangs ache with need.
She smells like sunshine and sin, a combination that turns my brain to static.
Her fingers thread through my hair, nails scratching my scalp in that way that drives me fucking wild.
A growl rumbles through my chest before I can stop it.
"You were saying?" she teases, with her signature sass. "Because that definitely sounded like a growl to me. Want to try that denial again, or should I start keeping score?"
I land a sharp smack on that perfect ass, making her yelp.
The little minx retaliates by sinking her teeth into my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my already hardening cock.
"Down, boy," she pants, pushing against my chest. "We've got places to be and stones to steal, O' Mighty Dick of the North. "
The title startles a laugh from me, but I'm already pulling her closer, dragging my fangs along her ear before licking that sweet spot on her neck that makes her melt.
Her moan hits me like lightning, her body going soft and pliant against mine.
"You sure about that, Angel?" I grumble, rolling my hips against her.
"Pretty sure I can have you screaming my name—any of them—in record time. Want to test that theory?"
Her arousal slams into me, that sweet fucking scent demolishing any self-control I've got left.
I haul her up by that delicious ass and throw her onto our bed before she can fire off another smart-ass comment.
Her shirt is gone in seconds, revealing those gorgeous tits that drive me fucking insane.
My mouth latches onto one dusky pink nipple, sucking hard until it peaks, drawing those desperate little moans from her throat as she clutches me tighter.
That first night after I brought her home, after what those bastards did to her—Christ, I thought I'd lose my mind.
Couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight until I saw those sparkly eyes looking at me with pure love and need.
I was sure she'd flinch from my touch, that the trauma would create a wall between us.
But my fierce little angel surprised me again—demanding I replace every violated memory with pleasure only I can give her, turning horror into healing with every kiss, every touch, every claiming.
I blaze a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her tight stomach, feeling those muscles jump under my tongue.
Each nibble and lick draws those sweet little gasps from her throat as I work my way toward paradise.
She's already surrendering, spreading those thighs wider, grinding against me like she's dying for it.
"I'm thirsty," I growl against her skin. "And this sweet pussy's the only thing that'll quench it." I grab her yoga pants and tear them off. Her perfect cunt gleams in the light, wet, slick, and ready, making my mouth water.
Dropping to my knees, I drag her to the edge of the bed with one rough pull, drawing a surprised yelp from those perfect lips. "Hold on tight, Angel," I command, my voice dark with hunger. "Because I'm not fucking stopping until you're screaming my name and soaking my tongue."
After Dani flooded my mouth like the angelic fountain she is—Christ, watching her fall apart—those thighs trembling as she soaked my tongue and beard with that perfect pussy—and then taking her until she's a whimpering, well-fucked mess, we finally pull ourselves away from paradise to deal with reality.
The moment my boots hit the living room floor, AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" blasts through the speakers at ear-splitting volume.
Because, of fucking course, it does. There's my dipshit brother, planted in the middle of the room with that shit-eating grin plastered across his face, air-guitaring like he's auditioning for a rock god position.
"Na na na na na na na na na naaa..." he belts out, like the attention-whoring asshole he is.
I'm going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Right after I figure out how the fuck he rigged the sound system to trigger that specific song the second I walked in.
"THUNDER! na na na na naaa...—THUNDER!" Lucian screeches like a tone-deaf banshee, the bass vibrating through the fucking walls.
Dani's doubled over, clutching her sides as she loses her shit, while our personal peanut gallery—Emily, Sable, and Seraphina—are sprawled across the couch in various states of hysterics.
"I was caught! In the middle of a railroad track—THUNDER!
" The walking, talking smart-ass continues his one-man show, completely ignoring the fact that I'm plotting at least twelve different ways to end him.
Trust Lucian to find the most obnoxious possible way to mock my newfound heritage. Fucking typical.
I stalk over to the stereo like a predator hunting prey, searching for whatever button will end this bullshit.
Screw it—I reach behind the system and rip the cord straight from the wall.
Blessed silence fills the room, though everyone is still cackling like hyenas at a comedy show.
Even Erik is failing miserably at hiding his amusement behind his bourbon glass in his corner fortress of solitude.
"You finished with your little performance, dickhead?" I snarl, fighting the urge to throw the stereo at his face.
"What's wrong, Rhy-Rhy?" Lucian grins like the cat that ate the whole damn aviary. "Don't tell me the God of Thunder's grandson can't take a little AC/DC tribute? The song's practically your origin story now! I've got a whole playlist ready—' Electric Avenue' is up next!"
I level my most lethal glare at the smirking prick, but Dani slides between us, still fighting back giggles as she wraps those arms around my neck. "Come on, Thunder Buns," she grins up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I barely have time to roll my eyes, already knowing this is going to be like throwing raw meat to a starving lion. Lucian's going to be all over this shit like—
"Thunder Buns?!" Lucian howls, practically vibrating with glee. "Oh, Dani-girl, you beautiful, sassy genius! I'm SO using that from now on. Hey, Rhy-Rhy, can I be Lightning Cheeks? We'll be the Electric Ass Avengers!"
I shoot him a glare, but it just bounces off him like everything else. This asshole's got the self-preservation instincts of a fucking lemming.
"Besides," Dani continues, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck in a way that makes me want to purr, "now every time I hear that song, I'll think of my sexy demigod Viking—talk about a playlist upgrade."
Fuck. How's a man supposed to stay pissed when my woman's looking at me like that, all sass and sunshine? My anger melts faster than Lucian's brain cells in a crisis, and I can't help but capture those smart-ass lips in a quick kiss, drinking in her laughter.
"You're welcome, Captain Scowls!" Lucian preens like a peacock on steroids. "See? I'm providing a valuable service here—making your woman laugh while roasting your consecrated ass. I should start charging for this serv—."
"Lucian," Erik interjects, his refined tone barely masking his exasperation with our resident pain in the ass, "I would strongly suggest reconsidering your current course of action. Though I must say, your persistent ability to challenge the depths of your own idiocy remains... fascinating."
"Oh, I'm sorry—did I interrupt your morning routine of color-coding your ammunition and practicing your brooding face in the mirror?
Don't get your tactical panties in a twist, Sergeant Serious.
I've got a whole playlist ready—'Mission Impossible' for when you're skulking around, 'Smooth Criminal' for your fancy-ass walk, and 'Ice Ice Baby' for that frozen stick up your ass! "
Erik's eyes roll skyward, his refined features screaming, 'I cannot believe I'm related to this walking disaster' as he gives Lucian that signature arctic glare—the same one he's perfected through years of enduring our brother's verbal diarrhea.
Meanwhile, Seraphina's angelic composure shatters completely as she dissolves into very unheavenly snorts of laughter, and Dani vibrates against my chest, desperately trying to contain her own hysterics.
Fucking perfect. My dipshit brother managed to corrupt an actual angel and turn my mate into his personal laugh track.
"Alright, enough—playtime's done," I snap, my voice carrying enough authority to cut through the bullshit. "We've got a magical stone to hunt down in Zephyria and shit to sort out here before we leave."
The room's atmosphere changes instantly, like someone flipped a switch. Even Lucian's smart-ass grin fades as everyone straightens up, and the reality of our situation settles over the room like a heavy blanket.
Let's just hope Dani and I can pull this shit off and be back before shit hits the fan here. With my luck lately, that's a pretty fucking tall order.