Page 17 of Chaos Carnival (Cirque de Sanguine #2)

Chapter 16: Ritual Surrender

Tess

The Paris twilight enveloped us as we hurried away. Maverick's cold hand gripped my arm, trying to keep him upright. The poison had spread thicker now, darkness coating his neck completely.

“A wraithshade expert.” I couldn't keep the hope from my voice as I steered him around a corner. “Maverick, this could be our chance to save Addie. If Lilith knows how to break Ivan's bond with the wraithshade—“

“At what cost?” Maverick's breath came in short gasps. His fingers tightened on my arm. “These deals—“

“I know the risks.” I laid my palm to his chest against his heart's erratic rhythm. “But we have to do something. The book's ritual might heal you, but it won't help us get past Ivan.” The image of Addie trapped in that evil carnival flashed through my mind again. “We can't leave her there.”

His laugh came out strained. “Since when are you the one arguing for demon deals?”

“Since it might be our only shot.” I steadied him as he stumbled against a wall. His eyes met mine, fever-bright. “Unless you have a better idea for handling a wraithshade?”

“What I have—” His hand found my waist, pulling me closer. Even poisoned, his touch sent electricity through my skin. “Is a very immediate problem.”

“I know.” I glanced up at the moon peeking through the clouds. “The ritual needs moonlight. We have to hope these clouds roll off.” I squeezed his hand, my determination rising. “Let's get you stable. Then we can figure out how to deal with Baphomet and Lilith—and save Addie.”

“The old theater district.” Maverick pushed off the wall. “Stone mentioned a safehouse in the ruins. Warded.”

“Can you make it that far?”

“Watch me.” He flashed that infuriating grin, though sweat beaded on his forehead. “Unless you're offering to carry me?”

“In your dreams, feathers.”

“Every night, witch.”

I rolled my eyes, but kept my arm around him as we moved through the creeping night. The weight of the book pressed to my side, a constant reminder of what waited ahead.

“Wait.” Maverick jerked to a stop, nearly pulling us both down. “Fuck. The safehouse.”

“What about it?”

“Cross and Zara mentioned they're all compromised.” His jaw clenched.

Heat rushed to my face. “And you're just remembering this now? When we're halfway there?”

“Sorry, the lethal poison coursing through my body must be affecting my memory.” He slumped into me. “What's your excuse?”

I shoved him, gentler than I wanted to. “This isn't funny. We need somewhere private, warded, and moonlit in“—I checked my phone—“ninety minutes.”

“We could break into Notre Dame.” His hand slid lower on my hip. “Always wanted to defile a holy place.”

“Focus, you ass.” But I didn't move his hand. “Besides, it's crawling with tourists, even at night.”

“Hotel?”

“Too exposed. And the wards would take too long to set up.” The book quivered against my ribs, an impatient reminder. “What about the catacombs?”

“No moonlight.” His fingers traced patterns on my skin through my shirt. “Though I like where your head's at. Dark, private...”

“You're impossible.” I leaned closer, steadying him as he swayed. “And dying, in case you forgot.”

“Trust me, I haven't.” His breath ghosted my neck. “But if these are my last hours, I'm spending them appreciating the view.”

“They won't be your last hours if you help me think.” I pulled back enough to meet his eyes, trying to ignore how the poison had spread further. “There has to be somewhere in this city we can use.”

“Somewhere the hunters won't look.” His expression darkened. “Somewhere they wouldn't expect a seraph to go.”

I caught his meaning. “No. Absolutely not.”

“The Demon's Rest,” Maverick wheezed over my shoulder. “It’s on consecrated ground. Off Rue Saint-Jacques.”

“A demon motel? On consecrated ground?” My skin crawled at the thought. “That's—“

“Genius, actually.” He straightened, though his legs still shook. “Hunters would never check there. Holy ground masks seraphim energy, demon wards keep out everything else.”

I shifted his weight, trying to ignore how cold his skin felt. “And the fact that it's an abomination doesn't bother you?”

“Says the witch carrying a cursed book.” His fingers tightened on my hip. “Besides, demons make excellent innkeepers. Very accommodating.”

“If you're trying to make me feel better, you're failing.” But I was already steering us in that direction. The poison had reached his jaw now, dark veins creeping toward his temple.

As we turned down a narrow street, a clash of energies rolled over us, like oil and water, holy and unholy, refusing to mix. An old Gothic church rose before us, its stone walls blackened with age. Neon signs flickered in the windows where stained glass should have been.

“Home sweet home.” Maverick stumbled on the steps. “Used to crash here when—” He broke off, doubling over in pain.

I caught him, pressing my hand to his chest. His heart stuttered under my palm. “When what?”

“When running from my last mate.” He gave a weak laugh. “She was you, too. Ironic, bringing you here now.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “We're not—this isn't—”

“Sure it's not.” He straightened enough to brush his lips to my ear. “Keep telling yourself that, babe.”

I shoved him toward the door, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. “Shut up and focus on not dying.”

“Yes ma'am.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Love it when you get bossy.”

“I will let you fall.”

“No.” His voice softened. “You won't.”

I held his gaze for a moment, hating that he was right. The book shuddered at my side, reminding me why we were here. Whatever this thing was between us, it would have to wait.

The demon at the front desk had dark hair and an Amy Winehouse thing going on. She smiled with crinkles in her perfectly lined eyes as she handed over a rusted key.

“Room 68.” Her voice echoed like it came from everywhere, the sound reverberating through the dingy hotel lobby. “Our honeymoon suite. Very romantic.”

“We're not—” I started, the heat rising to my face at the implication.

“You don't have the next room free?” Maverick asked, leaning heavily against the counter with exaggerated interest.

I glared at him, fighting the urge to slap his arm. “Are you twelve?”

He smiled that infuriating smile of his, the one that always made my stomach do little flips despite my best efforts. “Oh fine.” Maverick snatched the key from the demon's manicured fingers, nearly collapsing into me as his legs wobbled. His breath tickled my ear as he added, “Just like our first time, right darling?”

I dug my fingers into his side hard enough to leave bruises, making him wince and let out a dramatic little growl. “You're delirious. And if you keep this up, I'll leave you here to crawl up those stairs by yourself.”

“Only with love, darling. Only ever with love.” He stumbled toward the stairs, dragging me with him, his normally graceful movements reduced to an awkward sideways lurch that had us bouncing off the wall.

“Nothing to do with poison,” I added dryly, adjusting my grip around his waist to keep him somewhat upright.

The stairs creaked with sounds that weren't quite wood splitting. Blood-red wallpaper writhed with fingers of darkness that reached for us as we passed. I clutched the book tighter, its pulse still syncing with my racing heart.

“Almost there.” Maverick's breath came in short gasps, each more labored than the last. The poison had reached his temples now, dark lines threading through his hair like ink bleeding through parchment. Even in the dim light, I could see the veins pulsing beneath his skin, a macabre roadmap of whatever was killing him.

“I thought you were dying, not losing your legs,” I muttered, trying to mask my growing concern with sarcasm. The way he leaned against me, getting heavier with each step, wasn't helping my nerves.

“Both, probably.” His hand slipped under my shirt, ice-cold fingers tracing my spine with an intimacy that made me shiver despite our dire situation. “But what a way to go, hey?” Even dying, he managed to inject that insufferable flirtation into his voice, though it was weaker now, strained around the edges.

The intimacy of the moment felt wrong given how close he was to death, but somehow perfectly right too. “Focus on walking,” I managed to say, trying to keep my voice steady as we stumbled forward together. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Room 68 waited at the end of the hall. Inside, moonlight filtered through stained glass windows that shouldn't have been there, casting crimson shadows across a massive four-poster bed.

“Cozy.” Maverick collapsed onto black silk sheets, his body making barely a sound as it hit the mattress. “Though the pentagram on the ceiling is a bit much.” His eyes traced the intricate symbol carved into the dark wood above us, managing to sound judgmental even while dying.

I locked the door with trembling fingers, methodically laying out the supplies we'd need for the ritual—herbs, crystals, chalk, each item heavier than the last. “At least there's moonlight.” The crimson-tinted beams would help amplify the magic, if I could just keep my hands steady enough to perform it.

“And privacy.” He patted the space beside him, the gesture weaker than his usual confident movements. “Come here. I'm getting colder.” His voice had taken on that raspy quality I'd been dreading.

“That's the poison.” My throat felt tight as I arranged the final components.

“Then warm me up.” The words were hardly more than a whisper, but they still carried that trademark suggestive tone that made my chest ache with familiar irritation and something deeper I wasn't ready to name.

I turned to snap at him but stopped, the sharp retort dying in my throat. In the blood-tinted moonlight filtering through the window, the dark veins of poison stood out stark against his pale skin. His normally golden complexion had taken on an ashen cast that made my stomach clench. His eyes met mine, fear and raw vulnerability he so rarely allowed anyone to witness showing through the humor he'd been wielding like a shield.

“Finally getting me naked again, huh?” His smirk crumbled into a grimace of pain. “Not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Shut up and strip.” I yanked my shirt over my head, keeping my back turned. “Before I change my mind and let you die.”

“Promises, promises.” Fabric rustled behind me, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, that hurts.”

I turned, trying to ignore how my hands shook as I helped him out of his clothes. The poison had spread across his chest in intricate patterns, like a spiderweb.

“Under the covers.” I slid in beside him, pulling the silk sheets up to our shoulders. “Don't make this weird.”

“Me? Never.” His arms wrapped around me, drawing me closer until we were chest to chest, legs tangled together. “You're the one who got us a honeymoon suite.”

“I will end you.” But I moved closer, telling myself it was just for the ritual. His heart beat erratically against my palm.

“Already dying, witch.” His fingers traced contours on my back, leaving trails of ice in their wake.

“You're not going anywhere.” I grabbed the book, trying to focus on the words through the distracting press of his body. “Now shut up and let me save your ungrateful ass.”

His laugh vibrated through my chest. “Yes ma'am.” His lips brushed my temple, gentle despite everything. “My ungrateful ass is yours.”

I began the incantation, ancient words falling from my lips and the first brush of enchantment felt like static, crackling between our pressed skin.

“Your accent is terrible,” Maverick mumbled into my collarbone.

“Do you want to do this yourself?” I dug my nails into his shoulder, earning a hiss that wasn't entirely from pain.

“Just trying to—fuck!” His body went rigid as the first wave hit, demon magic colliding with the ritual's. Dark energy surged through us both, tasting of copper and embers.

“Breathe.” I shifted closer, ignoring how right it felt. “Let it flow.”

“Easy for you to say.” His fingers flexed, brushing my spine. “You're not the one being unmade.”

The book hummed between us, its alchemy twining with Baphomet's protection in ways that set my hair on end. Where they met, sparks of power skittered across our skin like lightning.

“This isn't—” Maverick's voice broke as another wave hit. “This isn't how it usually works.”

“Usually?” I tried to keep my tone light despite the way his pain echoed through our bond. “Do you make a habit of getting poisoned and crawling into bed with witches?”

“Only the pretty ones.” His grin dissolved into a grimace. “Which is you, by the way.”

“Charming.” But I held him tighter as tremors wracked his frame. The poison was retreating, but something else was taking its place. Something that glowed with unholy light beneath his skin.

“Tess.” My name came out broken, desperate. His walls crumbled, letting me into everything he'd been hiding—fear, desire, a bone-deep loneliness that matched my own. “I can't—“

“I know.” I pressed my forehead to his, letting my own barriers fall. “I know.”

The magic surged between us, demon and divine, witch and seraph. It felt like breaking and remaking something fundamental in its wake. I tried not to worry, to just trust in the process. But it was terrifying to wonder if we’d relied on the wrong people.

Then it settled into a steady thrum, like electricity humming beneath my skin. Maverick's temperature slowly rose from deathly cold to merely chilly, though his arms stayed locked around me as if afraid I'd slip away. I relaxed a smidge.

“You’re starting to feel less like a corpse.” I traced one of the fading poison lines on his chest, watching it retreat under my touch.

“Disappointed?” His voice was stronger now, though still rough around the edges. “Here I thought you liked me better when I couldn't talk back.”

“You never stopped talking back.” But I didn't move away, even as the initial urgency faded. The connection between us felt rawer now, stripped of its usual barriers. Every brush of skin sent echoes of sensation bouncing between us.

“You're quiet.” His fingers drew idly on my back, each touch sending sparks through our heightened bond. “Having second thoughts?”

“About sharing a bed with you? Always.” I tried to maintain my usual sharp tone, but it came out softer than intended. “The ego boost alone will be unbearable.”

“You’re the one who dragged me into a demon love nest.” His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “I suppose it's one way to get me naked.”

“You're impossible.” Heat crept up my neck as his amusement rippled through our connection. “It’s not difficult to get you naked. And this isn't—we're not—“

“Not what?” His hand slid lower, testing boundaries. “Because this feels very much like something.”

I flattened my palm to his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong where it’d been faltering before. The ritual's alchemy thrummed between us, making it harder to maintain that careful distance.

“This is just the magic.” But I didn't even believe the lie as I spoke it. “It'll fade.”

“Will it?” His other hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my bottom lip. “Feels exactly like what’s always been there.”

He kissed me then, moving with the same swiftness that always left me breathless. My body tensed instinctively to the sudden invasion, the terrifying vulnerability of letting someone like Maverick in. And yet, even as my mind scrambled for excuses to push him away, my body softened into his, as if it knew what my heart had already begun to suspect: that I didn't really want him to stop.

The kiss deepened, demanding a response. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I tasted the desperation we'd both tried to hide, the heat that had simmered beneath the surface of our banter. I fell back against the mattress, his weight settling between my thighs as he held my wrists gently but firmly to the sheets on either side of my head. The press of his body, the searing kiss, everything demanded surrender.

“Maverick.” The word came out in a breathless gasp as he kissed down my neck, teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin. My fingers curled into fists, uncertain whether I wanted him closer or to push him away. I'd never let someone affect me like this, and the power of it made me dizzy.

His name was a plea or a protest; I wasn't sure which. I wanted it to stop, and yet I never wanted him to move. This had to stop, but not yet.

“Shhhhhh...” His lips moved across my collarbone, tracing lower. “I need you. Let me have this.”

A part of me wanted to analyze, to ask if this was the magic at work or us, but I knew it was both, and the distinction didn't matter.

His lips moving on my skin made my breath catch. I dug my fingers into his hair, eyes fluttering closed as he moved lower, trailing kisses down my stomach.

“Maverick.” His name came out in a gasp as his tongue swirled over my nipple, leaving me burning. I arched into him, my body wanting more even as my mind tried to resist.

He unhooked my bra, pulled it off, and tossed it aside, his eyes gleaming with desire. Then his mouth was on mine again, drinking me in like a starved man. I couldn't stop myself from kissing him back, from wanting more.

His lips moved feverishly down my body, igniting my skin wherever he touched. My breasts felt heavy, nipples tight as he kissed lower, his tongue swirling over my belly.

My fingers tightened in his hair, urging him lower. I wanted his mouth on me, needed that spark between us focused right there.

As if reading my mind, he trailed kisses lower, lower, until he reached the juncture of my thighs. I let out a strangled moan as he nuzzled me, his hot breath brushing my eager core.

“Please.” I wasn't sure what I was begging for, but my body was on fire, my mind swimming with want.

He looked up, eyes glowing with hunger in the moonlight. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.” My voice was hoarse, embarrassment warring with need.

He smiled, wicked and wanton, teeth flashing dangerously. Then his mouth was on me, tasting, exploring, driving me wild. His tongue swirled over my pulsing clit, again and again, until I was writhing beneath him, pleasure spiking through me.

Every movement sent sparks of magic dancing over my skin. I bit my lip hard to muffle my moans, but they still escaped, echoing off the walls of the dingy motel room. I didn't care who heard. I wanted the whole world to know it was Maverick doing this to me.

Two fingers slid inside me, stroking, teasing, as I clenched around them. I was burning up, my body bowing off the bed as pleasure built to something unbearable. Maverick's name was a litany on my lips as I shattered into pieces, his mouth still working my pussy, drawing out the orgasm until I thought I'd lose my mind.

Slowly, the sparks faded, leaving me breathless and spent. Maverick kissed his way back up my body, pausing to take in each of my nipples, making me whimper at the overload of sensation.

He settled alongside me, skin to skin, lips to my ear. “You’re delicious.”

“Mmm.” I couldn't form words yet, my mind still fuzzy with pleasure. His smile caressed my skin, smug and satisfied.

I could sense him, a glowing warmth inside that buzzed with closeness and connection. Our bond had strengthened, the poison weakened, and a part of me was terrified of what that meant. But I pushed those thoughts aside, telling myself it was the magic making me sentimental.

“We should do this more often,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck.

“What, nearly die?” My tone lacked my usual bite. I couldn't find it in me to push him away when all I wanted was to pull him closer.

“That’s the one.” His voice was warm, a rumble against my skin that sent pleasant shivers through me. “You’re much nicer when I’m half-dead.”

I laughed, feeling reckless and alive in a way I'd never experienced before. “Shut up and get inside me.”

His answering grin was equal parts challenging and triumphant as he kissed me again. “Mmm, is my needy slut back? I really missed her.”

My cheeks flamed, but I wasn't going to back down with all this need thrumming through me. “Maverick,” I moaned, but he was already lining himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through my slick arousal, teasing me.

“You're so ready for me, monstre.” His voice was rough, sending currents of desire straight to my core.

“Hurry up.” I pressed closer, pleading for him to fill me already.

Instead, he pulled back, a devilish glint in his eye. “Tell me you want my cock, monstre.”

My cheeks flared hotter, but I couldn’t deny what we both knew. “I want your fucking cock!” The words came out like a challenge, urging him on.

He didn't need to be told again. With a growl of satisfaction, he surged forward, meeting my hips as I snapped mine up to his. He slid inside, stretching me and we both stilled for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And then we moved, thrusting hard and furiously. The bed creaked beneath us, threatening to collapse from the force. The headboard banged rhythmically against the wall, an echo of each impact.

His hips slammed into mine, again and again, driving my pleasure higher. The way he moved, the drag of his length within my sensitive walls, sent me spiraling toward oblivion. Every movement ignited something deep within, something that had been starving for this connection, for him.

Our mouths met in a kiss that tasted of sweat and desire. Our tongues clashed in a battle as fierce as our bodies' rhythms. Teeth grazed, lips bruised, but I didn't care. I wanted this, wanted him, with an intensity that scared me even as it thrilled me.

Maverick's hands tightened on my hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulled out and flipped me over. My breath caught at the way he bent me to his will, but I didn't protest as he lined himself up and drove back inside with a force that made me curse.

“Fuck.” The word came out in a hiss as he sunk deep, the slight burn of pleasure-pain filling me deliciously.

He held me down, strong hands trapping my wrists to the mattress, his weight a delicious pressure along my spine. His hot breath ghosted my neck, his swollen length sliding out and back in with agonizing slowness.

I moaned at a sharp tug on my hair, the sting heightening the pleasure as he pulled my head back, exposing my throat. “You like it when I take you like this, don't you, monstre?”

“Yes.” My voice was a whimper, a plea, and an encouragement all in one. I loved submitting to Maverick, and only Maverick.

Every wicked game he played, every delicious torment, served to make me yearn for more. I wanted to be his plaything, his toy to do with as he wished.

I craved for him to take me to the edge and beyond.

He lifted a knee, planting his foot beside me. The change in angle had me crying out, meeting his thrusts as he filled me more completely. “How's this?” he murmured, his voice a low, sinful rumble.

I couldn't help the demanding tone that slipped into my response. “Harder.” I wanted him to take me with force, to claim me completely. I wanted to feel him everywhere.

As if reading my mind, he snapped his hips forward, causing the bed to creak and groan in protest beneath us. “You insatiable, little witch,” he teased, his breath hot against my ear. “Can't get enough, can you? Can't get enough of me pounding you into submission.”

My answer was a moan, a plea for more. “Never enough,” I whispered. I bit my lip, wishing I could deny it, but the evidence of my need was throbbing between my legs, eager for more.

“What are you insatiable for, my hungry little whore?” He bit down gently, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth. “Spit it out.”

The words tumbled from my lips, spurred on by my desire. “Your cock, Maverick. Shut up and give it to me.” My voice was breathless, and my heart pounded as I demanded what my body craved.

A shudder ran through him, his grip on my hair tightening. “Good girl.” His voice was rough as he snapped his hips hard, setting a brutal pace.

The headboard thumped, a steady beat that only served to heighten my arousal. My eyes closed as my body welcomed each powerful punch. Our moans filled the room, drowning out the noise of our frenzied movements. The world around me blurred as my senses ignited, the pleasure spinning me into a whirlwind of sensation. Each thrust pushed me further over the edge, my body climbing higher and higher, chasing that peak.

Maverick's onslaught became wilder, more erratic, as he chased his own release. His breath came in desperate pants, matching the rhythm of our bodies. The air was thick with the sounds of our passion—the wet slap of skin, the creak of the bed threatening to break at any moment, and our frantic, heavy breathing. It was a symphony of desire, each note bringing me closer to the precipice.

And then we shattered in unison, our cries and the sound of our heartbeats filling the room. Pleasure crashed over me in relentless waves, my body convulsing and milking him for everything he had until he fell apart, collapsing onto me, his weight a delicious pressure that pinned me to the mattress, exactly where I wanted to be.

For what felt like an eternity, we lay in a tangled heap, our breath slowly returning to normal. Maverick's fingers traced shapes on my back, sending sparks of pleasure across my oversensitive skin. I felt branded by his touch, my body still thrumming.

“Mmm.” I hummed my satisfaction, nuzzling deeper into the pillows. “That was—“

“Best argument I've ever heard for staying alive.” Maverick's voice was warm and rough against my shoulder, his breath stirring my hair.

I smiled, my body humming with satisfaction. “Keep almost dying, then.”

His chuckle rumbled through me, sending aftershocks of pleasure dancing along my nerves. “Only if you promise to reward me like that every time.”

I stretched, savoring the feel of sated muscles. “Only if you're lucky.”

His lips brushed my shoulder, a gentle contrast to the possessive grip he still had on my hair. “I’ll take my chances, monstre.”