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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ROOK

I jolt back into the waking world. I’m alone in the abandoned royal baths but not for long. She can shift into a dragon again, which means she can fly over from her cave and meet me here.

My muscles remain tense with unspent energy. I pace around the edge of the pool like a caged beast before jumping into the water. I wash myself again, trying to remove every trace of the dungeons from me, wishing I had a decent bar of soap.

I have nothing. All my belongings were taken from me. My daggers, my sword, my armor. My stomach swoops in an unpleasant lurch, reminding me of what I have lost. I never should have returned to Netherhaven. Never should have tried to find the soulstone for Pyrah.

What a fool I was, still clinging to hope. Queen Dulcamara’s power crawls into every aspect of my life like a strangling vine. Even here, I can’t stop remembering what it felt like to be caged in her dungeon.

I hate that the queen holds so much power over me. I’m no longer a child, but it’s all too easy to remember the choking sensation of dread that filled much of my childhood solely due to her reign over me.

My father, too, was to blame. Even being his son granted me no protection.

I lean back against a corner of the pool. Outside the eye of the dome, it’s nearly dawn, the sky turning gray.

I focus on that hint of light. I force myself to count my breaths until the choking sensation loosens around my throat. The cold water of the bath embraces me and numbs me to my emotions.

I’m here. I’m safe.

Hexfall has always been a place of solace for me, my lair in the Thornwood. I often crave the scent of the cursed roses, for they remind me of safety.

Red flashes through the heavens, the color unmistakably familiar, brighter even than the crimson petals of the roses.

My pulse starts pounding. Hunger sharpens to the edge of a knife, the pain almost sweet in its intensity. I climb out of the pool, the muscles in my shoulders flexing, and my shadow wings burst free. They fling aside droplets of water.

I stride to the door and halt on the threshold. My tail uncurls from my spine and whips behind me, betraying my impatience.

Outside, among the cursed roses, a red dragon shifts into a woman.

Pyrah.

It’s impossible to hide my arousal. My cock rises to greet her as the first rays of sun touch her beautiful hair.

She stares at me with eyes that still linger gold. Her gaze travels over my wings before dropping to my erection. My tail curls around my cock. Unable to resist, I stroke myself, an obscene gesture that drags out a slippery hint of seed.

“Fuck,” she breathes. She’s looking at my tail with obvious jealousy.

When she advances, I retreat.

“Wait.” Gravel roughens my voice. I raise my hand to stop her, and I’m ashamed to admit it’s shaking.

“What is it?”

“Pyrah.” Her name comes out as a soft growl, a predatory snarl of anticipation. “We must be cautious.”

Her throat works as she swallows. Her eyes have turned from gold to blue, no trace of the dragon remaining. I don’t know what this means, but I watch her without blinking, desperate to understand her every move.

“Should I be afraid of you?” she asks.

I tell her the truth. “Yes.”

Her sharp intake of breath betrays her fear. “How much?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It sounds like a threat, which wasn’t my intent, and I grimace. “But the urge to devour you is…overwhelming.”

“Rook,” she says, her voice gaining certainty as she speaks. “Come here.”

I stalk into the courtyard of the ruined castle. The claws on my toes dig into the moss beneath my feet.

“Kneel,” she tells me.

I fall to my knees and await her next command. Lust clouds my mind, and it’s difficult to resist the urge to stroke my cock while she watches me.

“You told me once that devouring me is like drinking wine from a glass. Can you stop before you drain me empty?”

My tail curls behind me, unable to remain motionless. “That is my intent.”

She hesitates. “Will you stop if I’m unconscious?”

Shame chokes my throat, making it hard to breathe. She deserves so much better than me and the curse of my demonic hunger.

“Without question,” I reply. “I would never violate you like that. I need you to want me.”

“You always care so much about consent and desire,” she says, “but you rarely tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want to feel this way.” My own confession shocks me into silence.

“Like what?” Her question holds no judgment, her eyes wondering, and she waits for me to speak again.

“Ashamed. Desperate. Afraid.” I spit out each of the words like bitter seeds. “Ashamed of my own desires. Desperate to escape my own body. Afraid that I might lose control.”

While I remain kneeling, Pyrah walks over to me. She places her hand on my cheek and I lean in to her touch. She’s trembling.

“When we met,” she says, “I was a virgin afraid of my first heat. You helped me through my own shame, fear, and desperation. You gave me everything I needed and more. Let me help you now.”

“Pyrah.”

I don’t know what else to say. Words crumble away to dust, unspoken, in my mind. I’m left with nothing but my body, though I know this language well. I’m an incubus, and I understand how to communicate through fucking.

My already frayed control snaps.

I’m wordless. Shaking. Nothing more than a wild animal.

With a feral growl, I drag her down to the ground and cage her between my arms. My claws bite into the earth, bracketing her face and trapping her there. My shadow wings arch above us and hide my prey from the sky. I cut off her startled gasp with a kiss.

Fuck .

She tastes like paradise. A hint of her desire flows into my mouth, as rich and thick as honey.

With a soft moan, she melts under my weight.

Her legs hook behind my hips and pull me closer.

She welcomes me into her body. On the brink of penetration, though, I meet resistance.

I stop, not wanting to hurt her, and consider what should happen next.

I know exactly how to make her even wetter.

I trace my claws along the inside of her thigh, where her skin feels softer than silk. “Let me worship at the altar of your cunt.”

Her lips round with shock and delight. “Yes, please.”

Her belly flutters as her breathing turns shallow. I crawl down her body and bow my head to please her with my mouth. While I lick and suck and nip at her, she grabs me by the horns and holds on for dear life.

The nectar of her arousal tastes nearly as good as her desire.

Her fingers slip lower, to the roots of my horns, and I’m so on edge that I groan. My balls tense up with the urge to climax and make a mess all over her skin. My hips jerk, rutting against the air, my cock aching for more friction.

I want her to come first. My tongue and mouth alone might not be enough.

I curse the claws on my fingers, too sharp and wicked for such delicate work.

Instead, I slide my tail between her thighs and rub her with its hard, pointed tip.

I torment her, circling her clitoris without touching it directly.

Her legs kick against the ground, her muscles trembling, and her thighs clench around me. I fuck her with my tail, pushing it deeper and deeper, curling it in just the right place until she breaks.

She cries out, shuddering, her whole body tightening like a bowstring. She throbs around my tail as she comes. Finally, the aftershocks of her pleasure fade away.

“Look at your pretty pink cunt,” I say. “You’re so wet for me.”

I rear back onto my knees and grab my cock in my fist. When I stroke myself, a shimmering thread of arousal drips from the slit. She watches me, her eyelashes fluttering, still panting for breath.

“I want you wetter,” I say.

My fist moves faster, the sound of skin against skin both delicious and obscene.

I’m desperate for release. Pleasure curls at the bottom of my spine before it breaks loose in a flood.

I grunt with every hard pulse of my orgasm.

My cock jerks in my hand, shooting out jet after jet of seed, and I target her already wet cunt. She’s drenched with milky white.

It takes me a minute to catch my breath, my chest heaving. “Perfect.”

She touches herself between her legs as if fascinated by how filthy she has become thanks to me. Not nearly filthy enough. I’m not done with her yet.

“Why haven’t you devoured me yet?” she asks.

Her question hits me like an arrow and pins me to the spot. My throat aches with emotion. “Because I’m afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Rook.” She strokes my cheek. “Trust yourself as much as I do.”

Her words unlock a feeling deep inside me—a small, hesitant hope. It flutters through my ribs like a moth.

Slowly, I bring my mouth above hers, until we are separated by nothing but our breaths. She waits for me to close the distance, giving me the control I need and so desperately desire.

When our lips touch, her lust trickles over my tongue. It’s good, so good, and a muffled grunt escapes me. She grabs my cock, still hard, and brings it to her slick, seed-drenched cunt.

The crown of my cock stretches her flesh before my blunt spikes demand entrance. When I thrust deeper, she takes me all the way to the hilt. My balls hit the curve of her ass. We both gasp at the intensity of sensation. It's a raw, primal kind of intimacy.

“Fuck me,” she demands.

I’m not foolish enough to disobey.

I fuck her like a wild animal in rut, hammering inside her, harder and harder until she’s writhing beneath me and clawing at my back with her nails.

While I’m fucking her, I devour her. Her pleasure floods my mouth and flows down my throat and fills me with such sweet relief that it overwhelms me.

She climaxes hard, her whole body shuddering, and I drink down every last drop of her pleasure. It’s the most delicious ambrosia I have tasted in all my life, and it satisfies me down to the marrow of my bones.

When she collapses beneath me, my heart stops beating for a few seconds. I wrench my mouth from hers. She’s struggling to catch her breath, her eyes closed.

“Pyrah,” I say.

“Wait,” she gasps.

“Are you all right?”

“My mind melted a little.” She laughs. “But I’m alive.”

I exhale hard. “Should I stop?”

“No.” She clings to my ass with both hands. “I love it when you devour me. I love taking you deep.”

My heart aches with fierce pride and longing to please her more. She deserves the most exquisite ecstasy.

“I’m not done with you yet,” I warn.

“Good.”

I slide out of her only long enough to lift her into my arms. I carry her outside the royal baths and brace her back against the marble wall.

Her feet can’t reach the ground, since I’m so much taller than she is.

She’s at my mercy. I hold her by the hips, my claws indenting her flesh but not hard enough to hurt.

She clings to me and surrenders all control.

I lock eyes with her when I penetrate her again, the intensity of it only heightening the intimacy between us.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to worship at the altar of your cunt,” I confess. “Your body is my temple. You are my goddess.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m anything but divine.”

“I want to prove you wrong.”

My wings encircle her, protecting her, and my tail coils around her ankle, possessing her. With every stroke of my cock, I bring her closer to bliss. She’s on the edge. I can taste it and angle my hips until I hit the secret place deep inside her that unlocks her most intense pleasure.

Her climax hits her hard. She flings her head back and moans as she rides out wave after wave. I kiss her on her open mouth and swallow down her lust.

Mine. All mine .

I won’t stop, can’t stop, until I have satisfied my hunger. I have been ravenous for far too long, and my only solution is devouring her completely.

Careful.

In the back of my head, I know that I have to stop. An incubus can drain all the energy from their prey. But the temptation to continue is nearly impossible to resist. I’m fighting the primal instinct of an incubus by refusing to feed.

When I touch her neck, her heartbeat flutters beneath my fingers.

Stop.

I wrench my mouth away from hers.

But she’s limp like a doll in my arms.