Page 23 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

23

T he kiss was nothing like the ones I’d shared with Livia. It was brutal, dominating, a clash of teeth and tongues that tasted of blood and rage and forbidden desire. I shouldn’t have done it, I should have pushed him away. I expected him to. Actually, I expected him to drive the sword he held into my chest, or slit my throat with it.

What I didn’t expect was to hear the blade clatter to the ground as he grabbed my shirt with his hands and dragged me closer, kissing me back with equal ferocity.

When we finally broke apart, both gasping for breath, reality came crashing back. We stood in an alley surrounded by corpses, covered in blood, having just crossed a line I hadn’t even acknowledged existed until this moment.

“What in the name of the gods was that?” Septimus growled, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with something between rage and lust.

I couldn’t answer. My heart hammered against my ribs like a war drum. The metallic scent of blood mingled with sweat and something else — something primal that hung in the air between us.

“Tarshi,” he said, my name a warning on his lips.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” I snarled back, closing the distance between us again. “I’ve seen how you look at me.”

His back hit the alley wall. The flickering light from a nearby torch cast half his face in shadow, but I could see the conflict there — hatred warring with desire, and it set a fire burning inside me.

“I…” The words died in his throat as my hand slid up to grasp his jaw, thumb pressing against his lower lip with just enough pressure to hurt.

“I’ve watched you for months,” I said, voice raw. “And I know you’ve watched me. Even at the arena, I felt your eyes on me.”

“You’re a filthy half-breed,” he spat. “I was making sure you weren’t a danger to anyone.”

I stepped close enough to feel his body pressing against mine, but he didn’t push me away.

“And am I a danger to you, Septimus?” I asked, my hand sliding down his throat, feeling his pulse race beneath my fingers. “Because right now, I think I am.”

His eyes flashed, but instead of shoving me away, he grabbed the back of my neck and crushed his mouth to mine again. This kiss was even more vicious than the first, all teeth and dominance. I tasted blood — his or mine, I couldn’t tell.

When he pulled back, his breath came in ragged pants. “This changes nothing between us,” he growled.

“Of course not,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You still hate me. I still think you’re an arrogant bastard.”

My hand trailed lower, past the leather straps of his armour, feeling the hardness beneath his tunic. Septimus hissed, his head falling back against the wall.

“Tell me to stop,” I challenged him, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

His eyes met mine, defiant even now. “I should kill you for this.”

“You can try,” I whispered against his ear, nipping the lobe hard enough to make him jerk. “Later.”

I crashed my lips against his again, swallowing whatever words might have followed. This time there was no hesitation. His hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of my tunic as I pressed him harder against the wall.

The kiss deepened, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. I bit his lower lip, drawing blood, and he groaned into my mouth — a sound that shot straight to my groin. My hand slid from his throat to his hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling just hard enough to make him gasp.

“Tell me to stop,” I growled against his mouth, giving him one last chance to retreat.

His eyes, normally cold as winter steel, burned now. “I can’t.”

Those two words snapped something inside me. I yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, and dragged my teeth along the sensitive skin there. He shuddered against me, a tremor running through his entire body.

“On your knees,” I commanded, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

“What?”

“I said, get on your knees.” A confidence I’d never felt before filled me, and I knew somehow he’d obey.

For a heartbeat, defiance flashed in his eyes — that familiar arrogance that had made me want to throttle him so many times before. But something else lurked beneath it now. Curiosity. Hunger.

“Make me,” he whispered.

I moved fast, one hand still tangled in his hair as I forced him down. He fought me — of course he did — but not with the strength I knew he possessed. His resistance was token, performative, even as his breath quickened and his pupils dilated further.

When his knees hit the dirt, I held him there, my grip on his hair unyielding. Blood from the earlier fight had dried on my knuckles, flaking off as I tightened my fist. The torch nearby cast dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the swollen curve of his lips.

“Is this what you wanted all along?” I asked, my voice rough. “The mighty Septimus, on his knees for a demon in a filthy alley?”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck you.”

“Not yet,” I replied, thumb tracing his lower lip. “First, I want to see that mouth of yours put to better use than spewing hatred.”

I unlaced my breeches with my free hand, never breaking eye contact. His gaze dropped, then lifted again, something like shock mingling with the desire in his expression. The sight of Septimus with his sheer contempt for my kind kneeling before me sent a surge of dark satisfaction through my veins and a rush of heat to my cock. I felt myself harden further as I pulled it free, my hand running slowly up and down its length.

His eyes widened slightly. I saw a flicker of uncertainty pass over his face before it hardened into determination.

“Have you never seen one this big before?” I taunted, enjoying the way his throat worked as he swallowed. “Or is it that you’ve never seen a demon’s cock?”

“I’ve killed demons twice your size,” he replied, but his voice had lost its usual edge.

“But you’ve never tasted one, have you?” I tightened my grip in his hair, pulling his head back until his throat was exposed. “Open your mouth.”

For a moment I thought he might refuse, might fight back and end this madness. Instead, his lips parted, and the sight nearly undid me. I guided his head forward, pressing the tip of my cock against his lips.

“Take it,” I commanded.

He hesitated only a moment before opening wider, taking me into the wet heat of his mouth. I couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped me as his lips closed around me, his tongue pressing flat against the underside.

“That’s it,” I hissed, watching his eyes flutter closed. “Gods, look at you. My own slave on his knees.”

His eyes snapped open, glaring up at me with hatred even as he took me deeper. The contradiction was intoxicating — his mouth working eagerly while his eyes promised retribution. I thrust forward, feeling him gag and smiled.

His hands flew up to my thighs, fingers digging in like he might push me away, but instead they gripped hard, steadying himself as I pushed deeper into his throat. Each time he gagged, his throat constricted around me, pulling a groan from deep in my chest.

“That’s it,” I growled, both hands now tangled in his hair, controlling his movements. “Take all of it.”

A muffled sound of protest vibrated around my length, but he didn’t pull away. There was a gleam in his eyes now — defiance, yes, but also determination. Like everything else in his life, Septimus wouldn’t accept failure, even at this.

I withdrew slightly, giving him a moment to breathe. His lips were slick and reddened, a trail of saliva connecting them to my cock. The sight was more arousing than anything I’d ever seen.

“Had enough?” I taunted.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, that familiar arrogance returning. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Before I could respond, he leaned forward again, taking me into his mouth with such sudden enthusiasm that I nearly lost my balance.

“Fuck,” I hissed, watching as he hollowed his cheeks, one hand now wrapped around the base of my cock, the other still gripping my thigh.

He made a sound — half protest, half moan — that vibrated around my cock and sent sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine. I guided his movements with the hand in his hair, setting a rhythm that had him struggling to breathe around my length.

“Look at me,” I commanded.

His eyes flicked up, meeting mine. Tears gathered at the corners from the strain, yet there was defiance there still — and unmistakable hunger. Those eyes that had looked at me with contempt for so long now gazed up at me with his lips stretched around my cock. The sight was more intoxicating than any wine and I pushed deeper into his throat.

He tried to pull back at that, but I held him firmly in place.

“No, you don’t get to stop now,” I growled. “Not when you’re taking it so well.”

Septimus made a sound that might have been anger or arousal — probably both — and took me deeper than before. His technique was enthusiastic, and the sight of his proud face with my cock disappearing between his lips was almost enough to finish me then and there.

“Gods,” I groaned, watching his lips stretch wider. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? All that talk about demon filth, and here you are, choking on my cock.”

He made a noise of protest that only vibrated around my length, sending another jolt of pleasure through me. His fingers dug harder into my thighs, leaving marks I knew would bruise by morning. Good. I wanted the reminder of this moment.

I felt the pressure building at the base of my spine, my rhythm becoming more erratic. “I’m going to come down your throat,” I warned him, voice strained. “And you’re going to swallow every drop.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, something dangerous flashed in his gaze as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder. The challenge was clear even without words — he wouldn’t back down, not even from this.

My grip in his hair tightened as my control frayed. The wet heat of his mouth, the sight of his proud face debased by my cock, the knowledge that this was Septimus — the man who’d looked at me with nothing but contempt — it all crashed over me at once.

“Fuck,” I growled, my hips stuttering forward as release hit me like a blow from a war hammer, crashing through me as I spilled down his throat. I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to let him look away as he swallowed reflexively, again and again. A small trickle escaped the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin.

When the last pulses subsided, I loosened my grip on his hair but didn’t release him completely. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he pulled back slightly, my cock slipping from between his swollen lips.

“Good,” I murmured, using my thumb to wipe away the evidence from his chin. “Very good.”

He said nothing, just stared up at me with an unreadable expression. His own arousal was evident, straining against his breeches. I reached down, offering my hand.

“Get up.”

“Is that what you wanted?” he rasped, voice hoarse from the abuse. “To degrade me?”

I tucked myself away, my breathing still uneven. “Fuck yes, and don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

I shoved him back against the wall, dragging his hard cock from his breeches, and gripping it tightly. His cock was thick and hard in my hand, pulsing with need. I squeezed, watching his face contort with pleasure and frustration.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenged, stroking him roughly. “Tell me to stop.”

Septimus’s head fell back against the wall, teeth clenched, a battle raging behind those steel eyes. “I fucking hate you,” he gasped, hips jerking forward into my grip.

“That’s not what I asked,” I said, slowing my pace to an agonizing crawl. “Do you want me to stop?”

A groan tore from his throat. “No,” he admitted, the word seeming to cost him something precious. “Don’t stop.”

Victory surged through me, sweeter than any I’d tasted in the arena. I increased my pace, watching his composure crumble with each stroke. The proud Septimus, coming undone by my hand in a blood-soaked alley. He groaned as my hand closed around him, his head falling back against the wall with a thud. I stroked him roughly, watching his face contort with pleasure and shame. His cock was impressive — thick and hard in my palm, the head already slick with need.

“Look at you,” I growled, squeezing just hard enough to make him gasp. “So eager after sucking my cock. Is this what you’ve been wanting all this time?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, but his hips betrayed him, thrusting into my grip.

I leaned closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “You hate yourself for wanting this, don’t you? For wanting me.”

His breath hitched, eyes squeezed shut as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. I wouldn’t allow that escape.

“Open your eyes,” I commanded, slowing my strokes to a torturous pace. “Look at me while I make you come.”

“I can’t—” he started, but I cut him off with a vicious squeeze.

“You can. I command it.”

His eyes snapped open, blazing with a mixture of rage and need that made my spent cock twitch with renewed interest. I captured his mouth in another brutal kiss, swallowing his groan as I increased the pace of my hand. His nails dug into my shoulders, hard enough to draw blood even through the fabric of my tunic.

I felt him tense, his cock pulsing in my hand as he approached the edge. Part of me wanted to stop, to leave him aching and desperate — to make him beg. But the sight of him coming undone was too intoxicating to delay.

“Come for me,” I growled against his mouth. “Let me see you break.”

“Fuck you,” he gasped, but there was no heat in it, just desperate need.

I laughed low in my throat. “Maybe next time. Right now, I want to watch you come for me.”

His breathing grew ragged, hips jerking erratically into my hand. I could feel his release building, his cock growing impossibly harder. I slowed my pace deliberately, drawing a frustrated groan from him.

“What do you want, Septimus?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. “Tell me.”

His jaw clenched, pride warring with desire. “Don’t make me say it.”

I stopped moving entirely, my hand squeezing just tight enough to deny him release. “Say it.”

A tremor ran through him. “Make me come,” he finally rasped, the words barely audible.

“Louder.”

His eyes flashed with fury. “Make me come, damn you!”

I smiled, savage satisfaction burning through me as I resumed my strokes, harder and faster than before. “Good boy.”

His body went rigid against mine, muscles tensing as he fought it for one last moment of defiance. Then he broke with a strangled cry, hot pulses spilling over my hand as his hips jerked uncontrollably. I held him through it, watching his face contort in pleasure, memorizing every detail of his surrender.

When the last tremors subsided, he sagged against the wall, chest heaving. Reality seemed to return to his eyes, the haze of lust clearing to reveal horror at what we’d done.

I released him and stepped back, wiping my hand on my already blood-stained tunic. The silence between us stretched, heavy with unspoken accusations.

“This never happened,” he finally said, voice rough as he tucked himself away, fingers fumbling with the laces.

“Of course not,” I replied, the corner of my mouth lifting in a mocking smile. “The noble Septimus would never debase himself with demon filth. But I think we both know it won’t be the last time.”

His jaw clenched. “This was a mistake.”

“A mistake you enjoyed thoroughly,” I countered, leaning closer again, savouring how he tensed but didn’t retreat. “A mistake you’ll think about tonight when you’re alone.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, but there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion and confusion.

He pushed away from the wall, stumbling slightly. The vulnerability in that small movement struck me harder than I expected. For a moment, I saw beneath the armour of his arrogance to something raw and uncertain, and something stronger than lust made me reach out and drag his mouth to mine once again.

This time though, he jerked back after a few moments. His fist connected with my jaw before I saw it coming. Pain exploded across my face, and I tasted blood. I spat it onto the ground between us, grinning despite the ache. “There he is. The Septimus I know.”

“We need to leave,” he said, voice steady now as he retrieved his sword from the ground. “Someone will have heard.”

I glanced at the bodies surrounding us. Five men, one a noble. We’d be executed if we were discovered.

“After you,” I said, gesturing toward the alley’s exit with mock deference.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the Imperial City with the grace of a predator returning to its hunting grounds.

I stood alone for a moment among the dead, the taste of him still on my lips, wondering what kind of monster I’d just embraced — and what kind of monster that made me.