The Sa’Sharos Den
The Sa’Sharos Den
NOX
Eryndor, The Eastern Court of Veynar
Nox likes Eryndor. It is the Queen Dowager’s domain, where order exists only where she chooses to look, and it is common knowledge she rarely looks at anything but herself.
Sa’sharos sits at the edge of that neglect.
The air inside is thick with smoke and something sweeter beneath it, something that clings to the back of the throat and refuses to leave.
Bodies press too close, too careless, feeding out in the open like no one here has anything left to lose.
Threns, mostly. Exiles. Creatures that were pushed out of their own lands and found something worse to become here.
Music bleeds through the walls, uneven and loud, blending into the low hum of voices and the sharper sounds that cut through it. Laughter. Struggling. The dull crack of bone somewhere deeper in the room that no one turns to acknowledge.
Sa’sharos. Even the name feels wrong. Nox steps inside and lets the skin fall.
Brinette dissolves off her in a slow curl of smoke, slipping away from her shoulders, her face, her hands, until there is nothing left of it.
Her own form presses back into place, stronger, more defined, more real.
No one reacts, because this place doesn’t care who you are. Only what you take.
He’s where he always is. Corner, cloak, hood drawn low, though it does nothing to hide him. It never has.
Nox crosses the room without hesitation, ignoring the hands that almost reach for her and the bodies that shift just a little too late to get out of her way. Someone offers her a pipe as she passes. She takes it without looking, bringing it to her lips as she drops into the seat across from him.
“Did you start?” she asks.
Teorin doesn’t move much, only a slight tilt of his head beneath the hood. “I waited.”
Nox exhales slowly, the smoke curling from her mouth as she studies him. “How thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “I was bored.”
She snorts softly, leaning back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she lets her eyes move over the room again. “You’re always bored.”
“And you’re always late.”
“I only rush toward the things I find interesting,” she says with a shrug.
Then she looks closer. There’s a woman between his legs. Nox doesn’t react at first. Just watches, slow and quiet, smoke drifting from her mouth as she studies the movement, the lack of restraint, the way he lets it happen like it means nothing.
“You disappeared after the ship incident,” she says.
Teorin’s hand rests lazily in the woman’s hair, not guiding, not stopping. “I was busy.”
“You didn’t send word.”
“I don’t die. You of all people should know that."
“The girl, Asharin. Did you take care of it?”
“It’s done.” Her words were sharp, final.
Nox hums softly. “Good." Then she looks down at the woman between his legs again. “Come here, sweetheart,” she says.
The woman pauses, just for a second, then pulls away from him and turns, crawling toward Nox like she’s been called to it.
Teorin’s hand drops. “She wasn’t finished,” he says.
Nox doesn’t look at him. The woman reaches her, mouth already parted, and Nox catches her chin, dragging her closer. Her hand slides down the woman’s leg, slow, deliberate, her nails grazing skin just enough to draw a reaction.
Then higher. Her fingers brush the woman’s throat. A pause. Then she snaps it. The crack is clean. The body drops immediately, folding at her feet.
Nox doesn’t hesitate. She crouches, dragging the body slightly, her mouth finding the leg where she’d already marked it, pulling blood free without urgency.
Behind her, Teorin exhales. “I wasn’t finished,” he says again.
Nox pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before letting the body fall fully to the floor. “What did I tell you,” she says, finally looking at him, “about letting them touch what is mine?”
Teorin pushes back his hood just enough for the dim light to catch the hard lines of his face as he stood and crossed to her. He snatched the Kolveil pipe from her fingers, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke directly into her face.
“What have you been doing?” he asked. “Have you accomplished anything?”
Nox rises slowly, her movements predatory, and slapped him hard across the face, the sound cutting clean through the den’s noise.
“Fuck you, Teorin.”
His laughter was dark and unhinged as he seized her by the neck, dragging her up the narrow stairs and into a shadowed hallway. He unlocked a door in the corner with a rusted key, shoving it open before turning on her.
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Not a slap.”
She spat at him.
His expression didn’t change.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled her across the room. She hit hard but landed in a crouch, already braced, already watching him.
“Get on your knees,” she growled, her eyes flashing red. Her power pushed back immediately, forcing his legs to give just enough to feel it, to feel her.
He straightened anyway.
“I’m not one of your little fucking pets, Nox,” he growled.
His own power surged in response, slamming her back against the wall again as the air tightened around her. Fabric tore away from her body under the force of it, leaving her bare, unmoving, her eyes locked on his.
“Have you fucked my brother?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble. “Or is he still waiting his turn?”
She smirked, her fangs glinting. “I hear his cock is bigger than yours.”
His eyes darkened, and with a violent push of his mind, he threw her onto the bed.
She twisted mid-air, landing on top of him, her claws raking across his chest, drawing thin lines of blood.
Straddling him, she pinned his wrists as he looked up at her, his hands breaking free to palm her breasts roughly.
“I wish for rubies on my coronation day,” she murmured, moaning as his thumbs brush over her hardened nipples.
“I thought it was emeralds,” he hissed as she lowered herself onto him, rocking her hips against him.
“That’s for our wedding, you imbecile,” she spat, her claws digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck you, whore.” He flipped her over, pinning her beneath him with a snarl.
“Do you know, before you came today, I let that little human straddle my face?” He flipped her onto her back, gripping her hips.
“Just so I could do this.” With a surge of telekinesis, he forced her mouth open and spat inside, the act raw and possessive.
Her moan came instantly, low and guttural.
"I fucking hate you,” she said, grabbing a handful of his hair roughly. They crashed into a brutal kiss, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. “You were gone,” she whispered against his lips, her voice cracking with something softer, vulnerable. “I was worried.”
He lifted her, placing her on top of him as she began to ride him again, this time her movements hard and desperate. Biting her lip until it bled, he groaned, “We’ve had plans for years. Why would I leave you now, so close to the wedding? So close to getting what is ours?”
The words do something to her. “Besides,” he growled. “You disappeared for an entire year. Me being gone a few days is nothing.”
“That was years ago, Teorin.” She leans down and whispers in his ear. “But I don’t mind paying for it.”
He looks at her, then slaps her across the face. She throws her head back, moaning, her pace quickening.
“And Rathmor?” he says, breath uneven, as her nails dig into his chest.
“Fully infiltrated at this point.”
"Good girl.”
She slowed her hips for a moment. “And Alarna?”
“As I said, in hand.” He grabs her by the neck. "You don't stop fucking me unless I say so.”
She bends down, sinking her fangs into his neck, drinking deep as his blood filled her mouth.
His moan shudders through him, his release hitting hard as he spills inside her.
She pulled back, licking the wound clean, murmuring with a smirk, “Always a disappointment, dear Teorin, why is it that the moment I feed you develop the stamina of a kitten—”
Before she could finish, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her down with brutal force.
He rammed into her again, his length once again rigid, his pace now relentless, driving her to the edge until she screamed his name, her body shuddering with her own climax.
He pulled out at the last moment, spilling across her back as they both panted, spent.
Rolling onto her back beside him, Nox stares at the ceiling. “Your brother is obsessed with that golden-haired whore, by the way.”
The room plunged into complete darkness, Teorin’s power snuffing out every flicker of light as he loomed over her. “Watch that mouth of yours.”
She rolled her eyes, her own power flaring to reignite the dim glow in the room. “Perhaps the bond has ignited some strange affection in you, so I’ll ignore this.”
A distant horn blared through the night, cutting through their tension. Nox sat up, her expression shifting. “My ship.” She began pulling on her torn clothes, piecing herself together with quick, efficient movements.
Standing, she lifted his chin, her touch both tender and possessive. He kissed her hard, then bit her tongue, moaning as he tasted the blood. He pulled back, holding her face in his hands and said quietly, “I hate everything but you.”
“And I you, you bastard,” she replied, a ghost of a smile on her lips before she turned and strode out, heading toward the waiting ship.