Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Imprisonment plays tricks on the mind.
LUCA
We’re trapped in emotional boot camp.
Alistair and Celine are admitting feelings I never thought I’d be able to get them to voice out loud. I want to be thrilled, but I can’t shake the bone-deep suspicion that I won’t make it off this realm to enjoy the benefits.
It’s where I should have been born, right? This reunion between monster and monster realm was delayed by my parents’ escape, yet here I am, trapped with no reasonable option to get away again.
“Riven won’t let us go,” I say. “He’s willing to play games in the arena, but the bed, the shower—they’re treats for chained dogs. He’s keeping us docile. Double-crossing your father would be signing his own death sentence, and he doesn’t strike me as the type.”
Celine scowls. “I know that, but what choice do we have but to play along? If I refuse to fight, he’ll take you away or worse. We can’t kick the door down and hope for a miracle.”
“He’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be,” Malach says.
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Veydra don’t feel pity or anything else.”
“Maybe not.” Malach focuses his green eyes on my face. “But he’s fascinated by Celine.” Something churns in my gut, twisting my insides until it’s hard to breathe.
“Everyone’s fascinated by Celine,” Ciprian says. “Look at her.”
“I think you’re off base with that,” Celine mutters. “He’s a hired assassin. He doesn’t know me, and it wouldn’t change anything if he did.”
“You’re not thinking strategically,” Malach says. “You are truth brought to life, and he is the ultimate lie; I would be more surprised if he didn’t find you fascinating.”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask.
“Creative thinking without antagonism. Perhaps he can be swayed.”
“No way,” I hiss. “I don’t want Celine anywhere near him.”
“I’m not suggesting she climb into his bed—”
“You want me to flirt with him,” Celine says, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”
Malach’s face turns pink. “You’re quite good at it, my truth.”
Celine kisses his blushing cheek. “Do you really think so?” Each word is dripping with seduction. I could be three years dead, but if she talked to me that way, I would resurrect myself to get more of her attention.
Malach grabs her hips and drags her between his legs. “You torment me,” he groans. “Exactly as intended.”
Celine kisses his other cheek, then plops down in his lap. Malach wraps one enormous arm around her. He tries to be casual, but his red face gives him away. I hide my smile. If I tried to steal her attention, I think he would challenge me to a duel or something.
“It’s not a bad plan,” Ciprian says. “If he can get past the death threats, of course. But how is she supposed to get her flirt on when the motherfucker never bothers to show up? I’m starting to think his plan is to bore us to death.”
“You can’t die of boredom,” Alistair says.
“Maybe you can’t, but I have an active brain. It’s withering like a worm on a hot sidewalk.”
“Ew.” Celine shoots him a disgusted look. “Gross metaphor, Casanell.”
He claps a hand over his heart. “It’s Casanell again? I was Ciprian when my cock was inside you.”
“And where is your cock now?” Celine asks drily.
“In my pants.” Ciprian winks. “But I can pull it out whenever you want, hot wings. You only need to say the word.”
“We’re strategizing,” Malach says.
Ciprian groans. “Even if Celine flirts with the faceless fuck, we’re sitting ducks without our magic.”
I nod. “We need to escape while we’re not under any dampeners.”
“Which only happens in the arena with thousands of people watching our every move,” Celine says. “Even if we could pull that off, we’d have an army after us.”
“The blood tourists wouldn’t bother,” I say. “They bet on violence, but most would crumple like a used tissue after one punch.”
Celine sighs. “I guess that’s a plus, but it’s not much. We’ve basically got nothing.”
“No,” Alistair says. “We’ve got each other, which is more than we had three days ago. If we stick together, there’s no problem we can’t solve.”
Ciprian flops down on the bed and groans. “Thanks for the pep talk. I remain unconvinced.” His shirt rides up and reveals a slice of chiseled stomach. Alistair’s eyes lock on the exposed skin, and I hide my grin.
We may be in prison, but that hasn’t done a damn thing to dull the sexual tension. If anything, the boredom and stress are adding to the horny factor.
Malach purses his lips. “If no one has any other ideas, we should train.”
“Fuck no.” Ciprian lifts his head to glare at Malach. “My kidney still hurts from that hit you landed yesterday. I’m lucky I’m not pissing blood.”
“If you spent more time training, the hit would never have landed.”
“Nice try,” Ciprian says. “But I can’t be goaded by macho bullshit. I’m good in a fight, but I’m not suited for brawling.”
Celine grins. “What if you trained with me? I promise not to punch you in the kidneys.”
Ciprian licks his lips, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’ve seen you fight, hot wings. You’ll flirt me into a headlock, and then I won’t be able to look left for a week. Wrestle with Malach, he’s dying for an excuse to put his hands on you.”
They end up doing just that, colliding like two statuesque wrecking balls and nearly destroying the furniture while they’re at it.
I settle next to Ciprian on the bed to watch. “They’re aggressive,” I murmur as Celine wraps her legs around Malach’s neck and squeezes until his entire face turns red.
“I know.” Ciprian adjusts himself. “I’m developing a weird kink where I get hard as soon as she starts throwing his big ass around.”
“I heard that,” Celine says.
“I wasn’t hiding it, babe. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a normal reaction.” He glances at my crotch. “Luca gets it.”
I drag a pillow over my lap. “Don’t bring me into this.” I chuckle as Alistair sits on the end of the bed next to me. “I’m minding my own business.”
They continue sparring until sweat trickles down Celine’s neck and Malach’s heavy breathing fills the room. My eyes slip closed. The sounds are impossibly hot.
A hand lands on my thigh.
“I want to play,” Ciprian whispers.
My skin pebbles. It was one thing to let him blow me in the dark after a near-death experience. It’s another to have him get me off in the middle of the day, with the lights on, while Celine and Malach wrestle on the fucking floor.
“What did you have in mind?”
“A friendly competition.”
I crack one eye and study Ciprian. His black eyes are focused on my face, hungry and excited. Shit. It’s a deadly combination, and my semi takes notice, trying its best to push through the zipper of my pants.
“You touch me while Celine has the upper hand. I touch you if Malach is winning.”
I tug my lip ring into my mouth. “Who decides which one of them is winning?”
“Me,” Ali says. His voice is a low, delicious rasp. Ciprian’s fingers tense on my thigh, but the lust in his expression is unmistakable.
With her hand braced under Malach’s chin, Celine glances at the bed and grins. “You’re in trouble, Ciprian. I’m not going to lose.”
“Advantage Celine,” Alistair says calmly.
My competitive instinct takes over, and I reach for the zipper of Ciprian’s pants and yank it down. I’ve got my hand wrapped around his dick by the time Malach breaks Celine’s hold and flips her to the floor.
“Malach.” Ali lifts his hand.
Ciprian tackles me and slides his hand into my pants without bothering to open them. I swallow a groan as he rolls his thumb over my piercing and grins. Using his thigh to pin me to the bed, he gives me a tug, then drags his hand out of my pants, licks it, and palms my cock.
A tangle of long red hair whips through the air, and Malach grunts.
“Angel,” Alistair rasps.
I flip our positions until Ciprian’s head hangs off the end of the bed, giving him an upside-down view of their fight. With no time to waste, I wrap my fingers around his neck and run my tongue up the bottom of his cock. He swallows roughly against my hand.
“Gods.” I lick the head. “Was Celine able to walk after taking you?”
Celine growls from the floor. “You underestimate me, Luca. It hurt so good.”
I suck the tip into my mouth. Ciprian moans, Malach rumbles, Celine gasps, and Alistair laughs out loud. “Advantage to the angel of judgment.”
I pull off reluctantly. Ciprian’s shirt has ridden up, and his abs bunch as he sits up and crashes his mouth into mine. The kiss is hot, open-mouthed, and playful. “I want you so bad,” Ciprian says. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?”
I thrust into his hand as we make out. His grip on me is confident—almost rough—but his hair is soft against my fingertips as our tongues tangle. A tingle runs down my spine.
“Dammit, Malach,” Celine says. They hurtle through the crowded space and land again with a crash that rocks the entire treehouse.
Alistair tilts his head. “I’m not sure who has the advantage.” I hear him, but I don’t care who’s winning anymore. I’m too far gone.
Pulling Ciprian to his knees, I press his length against mine. “Fuck, you feel good,” I grunt.
He kisses me again, and my eyes drift shut.
“Eyes on me,” Ciprian demands, rolling his finger over my piercing. “I want you to know who’s touching you.”
My eyes snap open, and the heat in his molten black eyes makes me shudder. “I know exactly whose cock I’m holding,” I say.
Malach groans Celine’s name, then says something in their language. A glance over Ciprian’s shoulder dries my mouth out completely.
Celine has Malach pinned, knees braced on either side of his head. His green eyes are glazed, and something tells me he’s in no hurry to get free. I wait for Alistair to call the shift in advantage, but he’s not watching them anymore. He’s staring at us. Hunger makes the lines of his face harsh.
“Ali,” I say. “Come here.”
He leans forward, then stops. “Casanell?”
Ciprian detaches from my neck and shoots a challenging glare at Alistair. “What?”