Chapter 37 Roth
ROTH
I don’t know who moves first.
All I know is I’m kissing Nyx.
And she’s kissing me back.
The taste of her on my tongue is—
Not enough.
I draw her into me until her body is flush with mine again, until every point of contact between us burns.
I want more.
I want everything.
She begins to pull away before I can take it.
I follow, desperate to own her next breath.
To consume her.
When she breaks the kiss, my demon shrieks, raging from the depths of my mind at the loss. Her pupils are blown wide with desire, bleeding into the red of her irises, but the air is noticeably absent of the nauseating scent of Calanthe’s power. The fading lust in Nyx’s eyes is entirely her own.
As is the realization that dawns when she remembers where we are.
Who we are.
Who I am.
I watch as her eyes widen with shock.
Cheeks flush with shame.
Breath stutter with anger.
Eyes narrow with detachment so cold it douses the heat between us until there’s nothing left but frigid silence, broken by cheering and whooping as her friends explode into a frenzy.
The rest of us are frozen in place.
When she pulls away, Thane exhales sharply, like she’s taken the breath from his very lungs, and I have to stop myself from reaching her.
Her eyes flick to him, then to me, and finally to Calanthe, who’s too stunned to stop Nyx when she grabs the bottle of rum out of her hand and stalks away through the sandy beach, disappearing into the woods.
Killian finishes his beer and throws the glass into the fire before following moments later as her friends watch and whisper in his wake.
When he disappears too, Calanthe finally speaks from where she sits between Lyra and Cynthia. “You let her kiss you?” she seethes.
“You were the one who dared her to, Calanthe. If you’re upset, it’s your own fault for underestimating her.”
She clenches her jaw at my casual reminder of her own stupidity and grits out, “I am your fiancée, Roth.”
I stand, silencing her with a cold stare.
“You are a pawn, Calanthe. One that’s been bought and paid for.
Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you’ll become queen.
” Luther and Thane flank me as I lead the way past Nyx’s friends, ignoring their pointed looks.
No one speaks as we disappear into the trees, following the path back to campus. For once, I’m lost for words.
Lost in the memory of her eyes locked onto mine as she slid her legs over my hips.
She chose me.
Touched me.
And I let her.
“You good?” Thane asks after a few moments, voice filled with concern.
“You good with this?” she asked. She waited.
So different than Thane asking permission.
She was asking for my consent.
“Yes.” He and Luther share a look over my head, and turn back to me.
“…you are?”
“Yes.” I turn to Thane. “I am.” He swallows thickly as my voice deepens with the threat of my demon rising. Just then, we hear Killian’s haunting howl echo through the trees.
Luther sighs. “I’ll go,” he says, stripping off his clothes and handing them to Thane.
With nothing but his boxer briefs, he lets his demon rise.
Imposing wings sprout from his back, his limbs lengthen and thicken, horns curl from his skull, and the thick, prehensile tail grows from the base of his spine.
When he stretches and stands to his full height, his wings block the dappled moonlight shining through the trees.
“Don’t let him stay out too late,” I command, and he nods before crouching and launching into the air with one powerful downdraft of his wings, punching through the canopy like a missile and disappearing into the night sky. Thane inhales deeply in the gust of wind that follows Luther’s flight.
“Do you smell that?” he asks, and I detect the traces of Nyx’s scent, lingering in the air.
And on my clothes.
At the realization, a wave of feral need spreads beneath my skin, burning me from the inside out.
My mouth forms a predatory grin that makes his pupils dilate, and he swallows thickly.
We don’t speak until the door of our apartment shuts behind us and I collar his throat, backing him up until he’s pinned between me and the wall.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, running my nose along his neck, breathing him in as he bares himself to me.
“Fuck, yes.” He gasps.
“Come.” I release him and walk to my room, activating the silencing rune carved into the door when I close and lock it behind him. He waits for me in the center of my room, for our ritual, before he does anything other than breathe.
“Color?”
“Green.” With his permission, I let my mask fall, here in the safety of our home, and begin.
“Undress.” He swallows nervously, something I still find endearing even after how many years we’ve turned to one another for comfort when the cruelty of this life threatens to crush us.
Slowly, he removes his clothes one by one, revealing swaths of dark tattoos that follow the muscled lines of his lithe body until he’s bare before me.
“Are you injured or otherwise physically impaired?” I pace slowly around him, letting the suspense build.
“No.”
I graze my fingertips down his spine, smirking when he shivers. “Do you have any new limitations I should know?”
“No.”
“Safeword?”
“Red.”
“What do you need?” I ask quietly, circling back to face him just as he exhales with a shudder.
“I want to touch you.”
“Then undress me, and get on your knees.” His fingers tremble as he slips his hands beneath my shirt and lifts it over my head. His hands shake as he undoes my waistband and drops to his knees, pulling my pants and underwear down together so I can step out of them.
When he looks up at me like a worshipper before my altar, my demon purrs with satisfaction at his submission.
His trust is a precious, sacred gift that soothes the ragged edges of the void hidden in the dark reaches of my mind.
The cold, empty place inside of me that’s been carved away, piece by piece, until all that’s left is an ocean of pain and power.
That is his true gift.
The return of what’s been taken.
The sight of him, eager and desperate, sends fire through my veins.
It’s been so long since he’s needed me like this.
Longer still since I’ve needed him.
This time, however, I’m not straining against the confines of my control.
No, my blood is burning for an entirely different reason.
“You may touch,” I say quietly, and he inhales deeply before running his fingers up my stomach, tracing the runes etched into my skin, hidden by the intricate black lines of his own designs.
His touch is hesitant, but grows bolder as he explores.
It differs from hers—softer, but more confident. Assured.
“I can still smell her on you,” he whispers, brushing his lips across my skin, tasting the memories of her.
When his teasing makes my cock throb desperately, I run my fingers along his scalp and pull him into me until his hot mouth envelops the head of my cock.
He whimpers when I push him down until I hit the back of his throat, and I stay there as he convulses around me before pulling back to let him breathe.
I hold his head between my hands and start a slow, punishing rhythm.
Every breath at my mercy.
“Touch yourself.” I command, and he slips his hands down my thighs while I thrust into his mouth. He gives himself to me, letting the weight of his upper body rest in my hands as he fists his cock and starts stroking.
“She was so soft.” I murmur quietly. His shoulders flex, matching my rhythm as I lose myself to the memory of Nyx.
“Warm and soft. Her skin would mark well, just like yours. How pretty the two of you would be, on your knees, bound and begging for relief. You, forced to watch me do everything to her that you want to. Her, pleading for me to let you. Denying you both until you crave the pain just to feel the bite of pleasure.” He moans around my cock, and I close my eyes as the scene plays out in my mind.
“She’d sing so sweetly for me to end the torment, but you’d show the pretty bird what true submission means, wouldn’t you?
” He looks up at me with tearful eyes from where his lips are pressed against my stomach and nods.
“Good boy.” He whimpers around my cock and I thrust into him on instinct, before pulling him off so he can catch his breath even as we remain connected by a string of spit and precum.
His hips thrust pitifully in search of relief, but he knows not to seek his own pleasure while forgoing mine.
When I pull his face back onto my cock, he swallows me down and desperately starts working his own.
“When she finally yielded to me, I’d wring every ounce of ecstasy from her body until it ran down her thighs, dripping from every hole for you to lick clean so I can do it all over again.
” I lose myself in the fantasy of them together.
Of the messy, desperate, mewling submissives they’d be after I finish with them.
He starts grunting, begging the only way he can for my permission.
“Would you fill her tight, wet cunt after I’ve ruined her?” He moans, voice raw, as I pull him off of me. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, gasping for air through reddened, bruised lips when he leans into my palm, looking up at me like I’m the only one who can save him.
But then I damn us both when I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Or should I give her to Killian first?”
He whines pitifully as I hold him still. “Oh God, Roth—”