Chapter 37 #3
Cercies kept his silk sheet on and turned his hips away from the female, avoiding her and keeping his gaze at the floor.
Titus took his place in front of the third female bound in chains and kept the same blank stare into nothingness, his body unmoving.
The other two females looked at each other in confusion, wondering why Titus and Cercies were not disrobing.
“Might I remind you, General—and Lord Titus—that the collars around your necks hold daggers tipped in Fae-bane. At any point you refuse to comply, we are within our legal authority to use our magic and trigger those blades through your jugulars. The poison will strip you of your power, and you will bleed out in a matter of seconds. It may sound extreme but given the situation—and how powerful you both are—we deemed it necessary,” Caddver explained.
Fae-bane? Poison? On Cercies’s collar too? Oh… fuck.
That was why they were complying with this. They didn’t have a choice. They would lose their powers and self-healing abilities, and lives.
My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached.
I let out a loud cry, “no,” and I saw Titus flinch, but he still wouldn’t look at me. Other than the occasional rolling ember above his shoulders, he looked unfazed.
Titus parted his silk sheet and complied, and I felt like I died inside. He didn’t respond physically. It was as if he was made of stone.
It was neither of their faults. Not Titus’s nor the slaves. They were both victims, being forced in one way or another to take part in this sick shit, but betrayal didn’t discriminate against nonconsent. It still hurt to see him be intimate with another.
Cercies looked at the ceiling and parted his silks, and I felt like I could hear his soul breaking—or was that my heart? I couldn’t tell because the fucking drum was pounding my brain into madness.
A single tear beaded at the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. There was so much pain in this disgusting room, this wretched place. It all needed to burn to the fucking ground.
The council members watched intently, grinning, whispering to each other like our lives—our bodies—were a performance for their entertainment.
Aurelius began to moan as he got rougher with the slave, but nobody seemed to care. No one stopped it.
I felt like I was in hell. The depravity, the lack of basic rights, it was horrible.
The acolytes dragged me to the seeding chair. I kicked and screamed blood-curdling screams. “Titus!!!! Please help me, don’t let them do this to me!!” I wailed and sobbed.
I saw him tense—one single flame on his shoulder—before I was turned away from him and forcefully thrown onto the chair on my stomach. All I could see was the other wall and the chains on my wrists.
I felt cold, bony fingers grab my ankles. I kicked and kicked, managing to catch one of them in the fucking chin.
“She’s a fiery one, isn’t she…” A council member remarked. “Should make things interesting.” Another responded, and
the rest chuckled in amusement.
I turned my head to the council and glared while I spit out the words, “Fuck…you.”
Despite my best effort, it wasn’t long before the robed females had both my ankles cuffed in the stirrups.
I was in a downward dog position, legs spread and knees bent on a branching piece of the chair on either side.
On full display for Aurelius, Cercies, and Titus.
If it wasn’t for the small silk panel covering the very center of me, I would have been utterly exposed.
“General….” The head council member called, but Cercies didn’t move. He was refusing to take part in this sickening, ritualistic nightmare.
Caddver rotated his wrist and clenched his fist with a snap, and the collar on Cercies’s neck tightened. The dagger clicked twice, inching closer to his throat, then stopped a hair away from scraping his flesh.
I turned my head as far as my restraints would allow and saw him wince and groan at the constriction. He fell to his knees.
“Cercies, NO!” I screamed.
He grabbed at his collar, using all his strength to try and pry it apart, but he couldn’t. And he couldn’t get out of what he had to do to me.
I saw that now. I understood, and as much as I did not want him to touch me, I did not want him to die. His life was not worth the brief, meaningless encounter—not worth what it would do to Calpurnia to lose her mate.
He strained for air, his face purpling, and Caddver released the tightness on his airway with magic, but the dagger remained dangerously close to his throat.
He coughed and caught his breath, then walked toward me, glaring at the council, his eyes promising death— his heart promising it would be a slow and brutal one.
I felt the heat of his body behind me, and my stomach twisted like it tried to fold in on itself. His hand moved the flap of my dress, and I willed Titus with my eyes: please look at me, look at what is happening to me, please just fucking help me, stop this!
But he wasn’t even looking in my direction. His focus stayed where the wall met the ceiling across the room, as if he didn’t see it, then it wasn’t happening.
But it fucking was.
I felt my skirt drop. Cercies released it and it covered me once again. Then I felt the tremble in his body, but he still wasn’t touching me. I heard one choked breath, not from the collar, but from the internal pain of having to do this.
He knew my story. He knew what happened to me, and here he was now, forced by sick, twisted ideologies. He loved Calpurnia. There was no part of him that wanted this. He wanted to stay true to his fated.
“General!!!” Caddver shouted, and my heart lurched. If that dagger got any closer, it would pierce his skin. He would bleed out and die.
“It’s okay,” I cried. “She will understand… she will forgive us… you need to live for her, Cercies.”
“It’s not ok…I’m sorry…tiny warrior.” He whispered, voice breaking with shame and dejection.
His hand moved the fabric covering me to the side and I felt him, barely erect, press against me.
I looked back at Titus, to see if he would look at me now, to see if he would at least witness what I was going through, but his only response was an occasional scattered flame rolling and swirling around him.
Cercies rubbed himself and forced his release. He allowed a few drops to spill into me before he pulled away and another few drops fell to the floor, and that was it. It was over almost immediately. He moved my skirt back in place and walked away.
He spared me the actual penetration, and it seemed as though it was enough to appease the council. I exhaled a calming breath. Cercies would live, and that was the fuel I needed to keep going—to keep enduring this torture.
A hooded female acolyte moved my skirt to the side, examining me. I felt her violating gaze like they were her boney fingers on my skin.
“The seed is confirmed.” She announced.
The council members pounded their chests with one fist over their hearts and chanted, “May the almighty Flame bless us with the heir to rule and conquer all!”
With unrestrained anger, Cercies confronted the council and declared, "I've fulfilled my duty as third in command, and now I want to fucking leave."
The council murmured and one spoke out, “You do not wish to know if your seed has taken root at the end of the ritual?”
“No,” he replied abrasively.
“As you wish General, you are free to go, your collar will fall off when you are a far enough distance from the Temple.” Caddver replied.
Four huge Holy Guards poured in from the hall and escorted Cercies out of the room.
“Lord Titus...” Caddver summoned, and the drum beat that same unnerving rhythm. I felt my pulse quicken.
He kept his gaze upward, focused on nothing at all. It was like he was dissociating. He stepped back from the female and approached me.
My breath hitched, and anxiety pebbled my skin.
I felt him hesitate. The back of his hand brushed down my hip softly. He let out a calming breath, and it was like he was him again. He snapped from his distant state of mind the moment his skin met mine.
That fucking drum began to pick up the pace as the act progressed. Its noise banged against my eardrum, and adrenaline made my heartbeat irregular. I started to breathe erratically.
He leaned over me and wiped a tear from my face and whispered, “Close your eyes, and just pretend it’s you and me, trust me, Pickles.”
I nodded and whimpered. Before I closed my eyes, I looked at the council. They had demonic smiles on their faces, absolutely delighted to be watching.
I felt him rub against my opening, using what Cercies left behind for lubrication. He slowly pushed, and it hurt. I wasn’t aroused. I was barely wet. He was just way too big, and that fucking drum.
My eyes were closed, but it was too loud. Too much. My senses overloaded, my heart overworked. It was all too fucking much.
He pulled back and tried to push in deeper, but my body clenched, refusing to give.
Magic tickled my nose, and suddenly I thought I might be deaf.
Everything that was once so loud and maddening fell silent. I couldn’t hear the chatter of the council or Aurelius’s moans and grunts, or the drums. Alarmed, I flinched.
He tucked my hair around my ear and spoke, and I heard him. It was then that I relaxed because I knew I could hear, but for some reason, I could only hear him.
“Close your eyes princess, it’s just you and me.” His voice
soothed me, and it was the only sound in the vast silence.
My body and pulse calmed. He withdrew and pushed in again, deeper this time.
“It’s just us, Pickles,” he breathed, and all I could hear were his breaths. They became the only thing my mind clung to for sanity, the song to keep my soul from breaking.