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CHAPTER ELEVEN

ROOK

When I open my eyes, I’m lying on my back in the mud. Pyrah bends over me, her hand gripping mine. How long was I out?

“Pyrah.”

God, my voice sounds unbelievably hoarse. Was I screaming? I don’t recall screaming, though I must have been before I passed out. Nothing else would make my throat feel this raw.

Lark nudges my arm. “Drink.”

She’s holding out a bottle of red liquid. I recognize it as a healing potion. I take the bottle from her and push myself into a sitting position. When I swallow, I grimace at the bitter sludge.

“Did you brew this yourself?” I ask.

My sister scoffs at me. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” My response comes out gruffer than I intended.

Corpses litter the ground and the iron scent of blood is heavy in the air. The stench clings to my nose and turns my stomach. Rather than lie among the dead, I stagger to my feet and pretend to be alive.

I'm weak with hunger.

Healing consumed most of the energy in my body. I need to eat—and food won't be enough. I can’t deny my appetite as an incubus.

I must consume lust to survive.

“Rook?” Pyrah asks, and I wonder if she can tell what's wrong with me. I force myself to focus on the task at hand.

“We need to burn the bodies. Loot any treasure you find.”

“This isn’t even close to all the stolen treasure. Where's the rest of it?”

“Some of the horses escaped.”

“Help me find them.”

I jerk my head in a nod. “Lark?”

My sister cracks her knuckles. I can tell her fingers are stiff from summoning so much magic in battle. “Let me stay here and cast a spell. One that can help us return this treasure to Pyrah's cave.”

“Good.”

I crouch at the edge of the meadow. Horses scarred the mud with their hooves before they fled deeper into the trees.

When I stand up, a wave of dizziness crashes over me.

Hunger gnaws inside me, a persistent need.

My hands tremble until I clench them into fists.

I enter the forest, ducking beneath low-hanging branches that scrape my horns.

There's a pond near the meadow, choked by water lilies. I strip off my leather trousers and boots before I venture into the pond. Filthy with mud and blood, I want to scour the battlefield from my body.

When Pyrah wades in after me, she’s too damn close to me. Still naked. Still tempting me. I take a deep breath to steel my nerves, but that only makes matters worse. Her scent, clovers and smoke, mingles with the perfume of lilies and invites me to do wicked things.

She smells… delicious .

I need to calm the fuck down. I have had years of practice denying my hunger, starving myself as an incubus. Ever since adulthood, my life has been one of painstaking discipline and restraint.

I would be a fool to lose control now.

I cup my hands in the pond and pour water over her shoulders. She shivers, her nipples hard from the cold. Gently, I wash the back of her neck, careful not to hurt her where she was wounded by the knights. I don't want to bring her any more pain than she has already endured.

Her long, wet hair clings to the curves of her body.

My hand traces one of her collarbones before drifting between her breasts.

I wash her without hesitation, my movements curt and efficient.

I'm not trying to seduce her, I swear, but blood rushes to my cock.

My erection nearly juts out of the water.

I can't leave the pond without betraying my arousal.

God, she's beautiful.

My hand cradles her breast, my dark claws a stark contrast against her pale skin. I can't resist gliding my thumb over her nipple, just the slightest touch, and even that is enough to make her gasp.

My shadow wings unfurl from my shoulder blades. I fold them flat against my spine, but it’s already too late.

“Your wings,” she murmurs.

Her unspoken question lingers between us. Though I can hide my hard cock from her, I can't hide my wings. She already knows why they unfurled—it's an unmistakable sign of strong emotion or arousal.

There’s a thin line between blood lust and lust.

The urge to fight has ebbed from my blood, replaced by the urge to fuck.

I stride out of the pond, trying to put some distance between us, but she follows me onto land. Water trickles over my body and guides her gaze downward. She can't stop staring at my cock. I close my eyes for a moment and recite a silent prayer for fortitude.

“Pyrah.” I growl out her name.

"Why are you hard?" she asks, breathless, as if this surprises her.

I back her against a tree and trap her there, my arms bracketing her head. "I need…I need to request your consent.”

“For what?”

My cock bobs, an involuntary movement, and aches to be touched by her.

“Let me devour you.” I close my eyes and inhale against her neck, greedy for her scent. “Tell me you want it.”

She nods.

“Use your words.”

Her gasp betrays her desire. “Yes.”

My claws bite into the bark of the tree with a crunch. I force myself not to lose control. She’s willing and she wants me, but the kiss of an incubus could be dangerous.

Deadly, even.

I took too much from her once and vowed never to do it again.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Ravenous.”

I guide her hand to my cock. She strokes me in her fist, tormenting me, dragging out a pearl of arousal. I suck in my breath through my clenched teeth. I’m so hard that my erection has become almost painful.

“Are you always hard when you’re hungry?”

“Not always.” My fangs test her neck with no more than a hint of a bite, and her hand tightens around my cock. “But I know you like to be devoured by an incubus. Fucked by an incubus.”

"I do," she confesses.

“I want to fuck you.” My voice rasps on the words. It’s both a request and a demand. “Tell me what you desire.”

“You.”

“Give me more detail than that.”

She smirks, still teasing me. “Your cock.”

I brace her against the tree, hooking her legs around my hips, and grab my cock in my fist. My ass clenches as my hips jerk forward. I'm trying to be slow, trying to be cautious, but I enter her fully with one savage thrust. That knocks the teasing smirk from her mouth.

“Fuck,” she gasps.

She tenses, her body trembling, and I know she needs a moment to take the spikes on my cock. I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m too far gone to hold back. I can’t pretend to be more human than incubus any longer.

She was a virgin when she met me. Never had any other cock but mine. I need to be gentle with her, especially since I’m big.

I bend down and bring my mouth to the curve of her neck. When I lick her there, her heartbeat pounds beneath my lingering tongue. She melts under my touch. Her hips arch as she takes me even deeper.

“I need this," I murmur. "Need you."

I bring my mouth to hers and slide my tongue inside, just tasting her desire. The tiniest of whimpers escapes her throat.

I want to turn her whimpers into screams of bliss.

Her heels dig into my ass. She grabs me by the horns and clings to me while I fuck her harder and harder. I’m rutting into her like an animal, her back jolting against the tree. I curl my hand behind her neck to protect her skin.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” She chants the words.

My shadow tail uncurls from my spine. It’s hard at the end, the same as my horns, perfect for sliding between her soft thighs. I toy with her wet cunt. She gasps and rocks her hips, desperate for more sensation. When I kiss her on the mouth, I taste her desire.

She’s close.

I want to break her just a little, just enough that she will never forget what it feels like to be fucked by me.

Feral, I pound into her until she opens her mouth in a silent scream.

I kiss her open mouth in a devouring kiss, the kiss of an incubus. Her lust flows down my throat like milk and honey.

I have fed a thousand times before, but none have ever tasted sweeter. I have fucked a thousand times before, but none have ever made me feel such bliss.

She comes hard, her cunt gripping me, milking my cock as if she wants to drain every drop of seed from my balls.

I lose control.

With a hoarse grunt, I slam my hips forward, my toes digging into the dirt. Pleasure roars through my mind and obliterates all thought. I unload my seed deep inside her. Pulse after pulse of my release fills her until it overflows down her legs.

I keep devouring her while I come, and it prolongs her own climax. She’s whimpering, almost sobbing with bliss.

Enough.

I have to stop.

I wrench my mouth away from hers. Gasping, I close my eyes for a moment. I’m still hard, still deep inside her, because I’m an incubus and my body is designed to fuck without stopping.

I’m not a good man, because I don’t want to stop. I want to keep drinking her lust until it slakes my thirst and pours down my parched throat.

Hell, I’m not just a bad man, but a monster.

“More,” she begs. She’s intoxicated by my kiss.

I force myself not to look at her mouth. “No.” That sounds rougher than I intended, and I gentle my voice. “No, we should stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

When I slide out, more of my release trickles down her thighs.

I put her down, slowly, and she wobbles on unsteady legs.

I hold her with an arm around her waist. She leans against me, borrowing my strength, and it does strange things to my heartbeat.

A fierce urge to protect her rushes through me and aches in my chest.

“Dirty again,” I say, stating the obvious.

She glances at me through her eyelashes. “I like it when you make me dirty.”

A growl of a sigh escapes me. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Tempt you to what?” She smirks. “Fuck me again? Devour me again?”

I shake my head. For years, I have practiced burying my own needs deep. It will take more than that to tempt me. “Follow me.”

Her eyes are wide and bright. “I would follow you anywhere.”

I wish she wouldn’t look at me like that, like I’m the Gray Prince, like I’m a hero. But I’m no hero. I’m nothing more than a demon haunted by memories and ghosts in the night.

I bring her back to the pond where we can bathe again. Careful of my claws, I wash between her legs. She shivers at the cold water, her nipples tight, and I resist the urge to lick them. I’m more than a demon of lust, and I need her to know that I’m capable of love.

“What’s wrong?” she asks me.

“Nothing.” I blink away the thoughts that cling to me like cobwebs.

She tilts her head, studying my face. “You look troubled by something.”

I grunt, a neutral noise. “There’s a lot to be troubled by. Even if we find all your treasure, we haven’t defeated all the queen’s knights, or the queen herself.”

“Maybe Lark was right.” She looks into my eyes. “Maybe this is your destiny.”

Dread throttles my throat like an invisible hand. I don’t want to think about returning to the castle at Netherhaven. I have been back to the city before, and it was hard enough. Once, when I was young and stupid, I called the place home. It will never be my home again.

“Rook?” she asks, and she looks at me as if she sees right through me.

“I don’t want to go back. I haven’t entered the castle since my father died. Since…”

“Queen Dulcamara murdered him.” She finishes my sentence.

“Correct.” I can feel myself turning cold, locking away my hurt. “There’s nothing for me there but death.”

“Why not the queen’s death?”

My eyebrows arch. “You want to assassinate the ruler of Chymeria?”

Her eyes flash gold. “She’s threatening my mate.”

Damn, Pyrah might be even more possessive than me, which is admittedly quite a feat. I shake my head at her ferocity. “Not even a dragon, however fierce, can defeat the queen alone.”

“You’re right.” The gold in her eyes intensifies. “We need an army.”

I don’t know what to say to that. We need to find her treasure before it’s too late and it’s lost to us forever.

I abandon the pond and crouch in the dirt, running my fingers over ground. There. A hoofprint dug into the mud. Together, we track down the missing treasure.

It’s easier than expected, since gold coins glint among the leaves and moss. They must have fallen from the saddlebags when the horses fled from the dragonfire. We find two horses, huddled in the trees, and they have calmed enough for me to take them by the reins.

We bring the horses back to the battlefield, where Lark waits for us.

“What took you so long?” she asks.

Of course, I would rather not tell my sister the indecent truth. But Pyrah can’t hide her blush, not with her pale skin. It’s unexpected from such a fierce dragon shifter. I had no idea she could look so...adorable.

My mouth twitches with a hidden smile. “We found most of the lost treasure.”

Lark snorts as if skeptical. “Help me loot the rest of it from the dead.”

We work together on our morbid task. Blood stains the stolen gold and jewels, a reminder of how many lives were spent to reclaim this treasure. We stack the dead knights like kindling for a bonfire. Finally, Pyrah shifts into a dragon and ignites the corpses with dragonfire.

Flames destroy our enemies. While they burn, the sight fills me with primitive satisfaction. Maybe it’s wrong to enjoy death, and I’m too demonic at heart. Maybe I’m just too fucked-up to care.

Either way, nothing will stop me from protecting my mate.