Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Life doesn’t stop because death has its eyes on you.
LUCA
Hearing Celine tell Ciprian she loves him should bother me, right? She had such a hard time telling me, so why do I feel like another piece of the puzzle is sliding into place?
With her hands wrapped around us both, I’m just proud of her for admitting her feelings. And horny as hell.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been suspicious of Ciprian’s motivations, and I’ve been curious about him for even longer. All those flirty conversations over the bar at the Fang. His obsession with the sugary drinks I racked my brain to come up with.
“I love you too,” I tell Celine, kissing her, then glancing at Ciprian. He’s one hundred percent my type, and I’m not interested in pretending he isn’t anymore.
Unless he doesn’t say it back to Celine, in which case I’ll kick his ass.
He doesn’t notice me at all, though. He’s too busy staring at her, devotion written all over his face. Peppering kisses along her arm and neck, he grazes his lips against hers and whispers, “I love you more.”
Oh, he’s down bad, and it’s absurdly cute. My dick piercing grazes the side of his cock, and I’m struck with the best idea I’ve ever had.
I grab Celine by the waist and hoist her off the shower floor, tucking her back against my chest. “Wrap your legs around him.”
She relaxes in my arms and does exactly as I suggest.
Ciprian’s eyes drop and he grunts. “You’re killing me.”
“Yeah?” I thrust my dick against his, grazing Celine’s pussy at the same time. “Do something about it then.”
His black eyes glitter, and he drops his hands.
Rough fingers grip my length and press it against his. Celine moans.
“What’s he doing to you, baby?”
“H-he’s fingering me,” she gasps.
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Anything else?”
“He’s rubbing my clit with your dicks and . . . his thumb, I think.” Gods, I love how she says it exactly how it is. No shyness. No blushing or awkwardness. Celine’s confidence is fucking hot.
I kiss her throat. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she hisses.
I scrape my teeth over the lean muscle of her neck. I’m not much of a biter, but spending time with, on top of, or under Alistair has a way of expanding your kinks. Gloom rolls through me, but I stifle it. He and Malach will be fine.
Celine deserves all my attention, and she’s going to get it.
The friction is too perfect. Pleasure throbs low in my belly, and I know none of us will last long. This is stress relief and proof of life; there will be time for a more thorough exploration later.
I meet Ciprian’s eyes, and our lips collide over Celine’s shoulder as I do my best to tell him without words that I haven’t gotten nearly enough of him yet.
When Celine twitches and cries out between us, Ciprian tweaks my piercing. That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. I come hard, coating his hand and cock with cum. He runs his fingers through it and jerks himself three times before he explodes.
Boneless in our arms, Celine stretches and yawns, cracking her eyes to study Ciprian. “Did you negotiate for a bigger bed while I was unconscious?”
He smirks and kisses her. “Of course I did, hot wings. There’s room for us all.”
We don’t end up needing the entire bed.
After a soak in the tub, we curl up under the covers, three parts of one whole, leaving space for two more. Celine won’t give up on them, and neither will I.
I hope it’s enough.
“How cozy.”
I’m wrenched from sleep by the most annoying voice in the universe.
“Go away,” Celine groans.
“It’s remarkable how often you forget you’re the one being held hostage.”
I glare at the veydra, hating the sight of him. Riven is everything wrong with this hunk of frozen rock and the mainland. Veydran are nothing but the faceless weapons the ruling shifters use to keep monsters under their heels.
The brutality of the arena and the coerced binding of more “dangerous” shifters is way more barbaric than anything a basilisk might do on a rampage. Shrinking and controlling the monster populations is normalized at this point, though. It’s difficult to be anything but bitter about it.
We’re on the losing side of history; the one that gets erased.
One day, it will be as if we never existed.
“You hate me, don’t you, basilisk?”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”
He shrugs. “I can’t.”
Riven retrieves his cloak from the floor. He wrapped it around Celine while she was unconscious after the fight. I hated it, but what was I supposed to do? She was ice-cold, and I had no way to help her—only reminders that my home has never been a safe place for me or anyone I care about.
Rage bubbles up inside me and overflows before I can stop it.
I sit up fast, and the blanket pools in my lap.
“Veydran love to pretend they have no choice,” I snarl.
“They line up in neat, faceless rows, follow orders, and kill, kill, kill. A basilisk here, a griffin there—does it even matter to you?”
“Control yourself,” Riven hisses, hands trembling at his sides.
I ignore him. “Do you get off on making us bend until we’re nothing but shells of ourselves? I bet you fucking love it, huh? After all, if we’re as empty as you, no one will notice that you’re nothing.”
“Shut up!”
I cover my mouth with one hand sarcastically. “Oh no, I’ve upset Riven. Tell me, Riven, is that even your name? You don’t have a face of your own, so why would you need a name? I bet no one bothered to give you one—”
“I don’t know,” he shouts. “Is that what you want to hear?”
His face goes haywire, striped bands flickering from the top of his head to the curve of his amber chin.
He turns away from me, his shoulders hunching as he shudders.
It’s a shared shifter issue—the shaking—and it only happens when someone has poor control of their transformation or gets overwhelmed by extreme emotion.
Which is it for him?
“Let’s take a few deep breaths,” Ciprian says. He runs his hand along my arm in warning as much as comfort.
I sneer, pleased to have scored a hit against our enemy. “I’ve said all I plan to.”
The silence is tense. Celine gives me a look, her brow pinched, as if she’s disappointed . . . in me? “Thanks for the upgrades and the cloak,” she whispers.
I scowl. He’s the enemy. We’re trapped here because of him. The veydran are profiting directly off her torment. If he gave her that cloak and a better cell, it wasn’t to be nice; it was to protect his asset and ensure she survives to earn him more money.
Am I the only one who sees or cares about that?
“Have you recovered from your chill?” Riven asks, his tone wooden. “I can send Hyacinth.” Who the fuck is that?
“I’m fine,” Celine says.
Riven strides from the cabin, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Celine and Ciprian face me warily, like they’re unsure what I’m going to do next. My skin prickles. Do they see me or the monster I’ve warned them about all along?
I need to get out of here. But I can’t, not unless I tear through a foot of magically enforced wood.
Trapped, no matter what. I’m doomed. Unregistered, unbound, and they know it.
Even if Celine keeps winning in the arena, I’ve seen the writing on the wall.
They won’t let me go. This only ends one way for me: with my basilisk bound and my parents’ sacrifice erased.
I climb out of bed, and the chill sinks into my bare skin. Fuck. Where are my pants? And why do I feel so exposed? Every word I said to Riven was true, but he barely fought back. There’s no reason for me to be this raw.
“Luca,” Celine whispers.
“I’m sorry.” I tug on my hair. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t, slow down.” Her feet hit the floor, then her hand is on my back.
I shrug it off.
Her intake of breath is sharp. She doesn’t try to touch me again.
I wish she would.
“I can’t do this,” I hiss at the ceiling, then pace to the furthest wall from the bed. With my forehead pressed to the wood, I search desperately for the calm I’m known for. Fear and resentment are all I find. I’m overflowing with both.
Something scrapes against the floor. Something heavy. I hear a few mutters, but I can’t focus on them right now. Maybe they’ll understand; maybe they won’t, but I’m crawling out of my skin.
Eventually, Celine calls my name, her voice firm.
I glance over my shoulder and blink twice. They’ve pushed everything that wasn’t bolted down to the edge of the room, including the massive bed.
“Let’s go on a walk,” Celine says. “Or you can go alone if you want.”
Ciprian sighs. “You’re shit at explaining, hot wings.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “Then you do it.”
He winks at me, then claps his hands. “Let me tell you about this thing called a rampage ramble.”
Somehow, he convinces me to pace.
Back and forth—around the center of the room—through the shower.
I play along to make up for being a dick, then words start spilling from my mouth. They pour out faster than I can handle, some landing on top of others. Half of them make no sense. But I don’t stop. I wave my arms, and I shout. Digging up everything I’ve kept buried.
I tell them it’s unfair.
That I’m a danger to them.
That I should be glad that my basilisk won’t survive this realm.
Celine and Ciprian listen quietly and match me step for step. Short strides, with creative paths to dodge the furniture they couldn’t move. Our arms graze, simple touches that tell me I’m not alone.
We pace our cage for hours until my stomach growls and I’m out of words.
Then I collapse to my knees and cry.
“Let it out,” Celine says, her voice thick with unshed tears.
Ciprian wraps his arms around me. “We’ve got you.”
Fuck me, in this moment, I believe them.