Page 50 of Direbound (The Wolves of Ruin #1)

CHAPTER FIFTY

T he celebration in the Rawbond common lounge tonight is truly unhinged. Today, we survived. Tomorrow, we graduate. I understand it, rationally—and I don’t blame them for celebrating. We’re alive. That’s worth celebrating.

But not everyone can say the same, and I swear there’s still blood trapped beneath my fingernails.

Every peel of laughter is intrusive. Every smile, out of place.

I’m restless, my mind continually returning to Henrey, so I do the only thing I can. I keep moving forward. Surveying the reveling, drunken crowd, I pick out Venna. She’s leaned up against another Kryptos Rawbond—soon to be Bonded —nursing a glass of emberwine and watching the people around her with a subtle smile.

I quickly make my way over to her. Venna’s eyes immediately widen, and she shrugs off the Rawbond attached to her. “Can we talk?” I ask, and then sign the same thing over a loud drunken cheer.

Venna nods and hooks her arm with mine. A chorus of whistles go up around us. I roll my eyes. Clearly, they’re misreading the situation. But I don’t correct them because it’s honestly better that they believe Venna and I are hooking up.

I bring her to the Strategos anteroom. No one’s in here right now; no one would dare miss the party outside. “Did you see what happened at the Unity Trial?” I ask immediately.

Her gaze flashes, and I know she understands what I mean. “What the fuck is under the arena?” she hisses.

I feel sweet relief. “ Thank you, ” I breathe. “We need to find out what’s down there.”

Venna swells with what can only be pride. “You want me to?—?”

“Please,” I beg, taking her shoulders in my hands. “Find out where they took Henrey’s body. But also…” I hesitate, not sure if I should mention it, and then decide I can trust Venna with anything. “I think there’s something buried inside of the drain in the center of the arena.”

“Okay…” she says. “Ominous. Can you be more specific?”

Can I? Will she believe me? “I think… I think it might be a crown. I’m not sure what it’s doing there. I know it sounds crazy. But there’s definitely something metal hidden away inside the drain.”

Venna doesn’t blink, doesn’t ask how I know that. She just says, “I’m on it. I’ll head out now to look around. And I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

I raise a brow. “You’re sure your pack won’t miss the Kryptos Killer?” I tease.

She frowns at me. “Not you, too.”

I laugh and pat her arm before she turns to flee my teasing. The moment she’s gone, the air around me is heavier again.

No part of me wants to join in tonight’s revelry, so I turn and head for my quarters. When I reach it, I shrug off my jacket and move to retrieve Stark’s book. My constant companion.

Thinking about the book reminds me of Anassa, and I realize I can still feel her through our connection. I throw the wall back up, reinforce it. We may have needed to work together today, but I refuse to forgive her fully, not until she starts being honest with me.

Then I kneel on the floor and reach for the book under my bed. I’ve stared at it so much that I swear its words are imprinted on my eyelids. But maybe I missed something in here that could give me answers about the arena. There’s a segment about the castle’s history, so?—

There’s a soft creak, and I startle, whipping my hand away from the bed and jumping to my feet. When I spin around, Killian is stepping out of my wardrobe. Instantly, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

Killian smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I came to check on you,” he tells me. “Are you okay after everything that happened today?”

I have to fight the urge to pick at my fingernails again in an attempt to get the lingering blood out. Am I okay?

I step forward and practically fall into his arms. A lump forms in my throat as he catches me, his embrace strong and steady. I’m just so fucking relieved that someone isn’t too busy celebrating life to acknowledge the iron stench of death still thick in the air.

I want to taste his concern for me on my tongue, swallow it down, and let it warm me like sweetened emberwine.

Lifting my head, I look into his achingly blue eyes. His hands rub gently over my back as he watches me back. “You…” My voice trails off.

I want to ask him about where the servants took Henrey, but accusing his father of something without proof feels too dangerous. There’s only so much Killian can protect me from.

“Me,” Killian says softly. He lifts his hand and dusts his knuckles across my cheek. His thumb tugs my bottom lip, and it’s like he casts a spell on me.

I push onto my toes and kiss him. Hard. I pull away to suck in a shaky breath, and for the second kiss, he meets me with an open mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down against me, practically devouring him.

At first, he’s hesitant. Worried about me, maybe. He kisses me deeply, but he keeps trying to slow it down. I like the taste of all this care, but I need a little pain if I want it to sink beneath my skin and linger like a tattoo.

The hesitation stops abruptly when I let out a needy whine.

“Fuck, the sounds you make,” he groans. Then he hauls me against his body and spins us around, pushing me against the wall and grinding into me.

I gasp and grip his shoulder. The other hand tangles in his hair. He kisses me roughly this time. It’s bruising.

“Kitten,” he pants. “You?—”

“More,” I beg. “All of it.” I yank his shirt up his body and fumble with his belt. He pulls my leg up over his hip and sinks his hips closer to my warmth. I manage to get his belt unfastened, but then he bends down and starts kissing my neck. I shut my eyes and lean into the sensation.

I hope he can feel the quickness of my pulse beneath his lips.

“Leave a mark,” I whisper. And instantly, his teeth dig into my skin. Not too hard, but hard enough that I know it’ll last. I moan and start to yank his belt out of its loops.

And the door slams open.

“Meryn, have you seen Venn—AGH!” Izabel shrieks and covers her eyes.

Killian and I scramble to fix our clothes. My entire body is one giant blush.

“Izabel, knock !” I shout.

Killian tries to stifle his laughter, even hides it behind his hand, but he can’t quite manage it. I scowl and smack him.

“It’s not funny,” I protest, but that last word breaks apart into a slight giggle. And it makes him laugh harder.

“Sorry,” Izabel squeaks, peeking out from between her fingers. “Are your tits tucked away?”

I scoff. “Your eyes are safe.”

Izabel lowers her hand and curtsies. “Your princeliness.”

Killian laughs again. His hands are shoved in his pockets, likely to help conceal the lingering frenzy I worked him into.

“I didn’t mean to ogle your royal abs. It just happened,” Izabel announces.

I smack a hand over my face. “Goddess, Iz.”

She grins and marches across the room, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you finally. Well, we’ve met. Sort of. I see you places. Up on your pedestals. I’m Izabel.”

I’m briefly concerned Killian might be upset. After all, Izabel did just barge in while we were in the middle of something, and now she’s blowing through possible boundaries and assuming he wants to chat with a half-hard cock.

But he removes a hand from his pockets and accepts hers. “Nice to meet you, too. I know you and Meryn are close.”

“I’d hold her hair while she barfed,” Izabel says like it’s a brag. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I really don’t want my betrothed thinking about me vomiting. “Wow, you’re better-looking up close. I always thought you looked a bit… statuesque? But something about catching you with your pants down makes you more approachable.”

“They weren’t down ,” I scold.

“Practically at my ankles,” Killian says with an easy smile. I relax slightly. He’s clearly managing this better than I am. Of course he is.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “To answer your question, I think Venna is hooking up with someone. He had dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Might be best to give her some space,” I tell Izabel. It’s the description of the man she was cozied up to earlier, so hopefully it’ll lend credit to my lie.

Izabel frowns. “Makes sense.” But apparently, she’s completely oblivious to my subtle give me some space request because she turns to Killian and grins.

“Prince Killian, have you ever played Ten Wolves?”

“Huh? No, never heard of it,” he replies.

“It’s a Bonded drinking game, and they have a good round of it going in the common lounge right now. You should come join us!”

It’s then that I realize she’s a bit toasted. She’s always been good at hiding it—never slurs or starts to tilt over—but she’s definitely been partaking tonight.

Killian raises a brow and glances at me. It’s a very clear, is this okay?

I look at Izabel, a giant ball of sunshiny hope, and just shrug. It’s a little weird. Killian in the common lounge, and with everyone drinking…

But then, if he’s going to be my husband, the other Bonded will need to get comfortable with him, anyway.

Izabel makes an alarmingly high-pitched sound of joy—the squeals are the real indication of her drunkenness—and drags us both back to the party. Her attention is mostly focused on Killian, though. I’m starting to suspect that she’s very intentionally pulling him into the fold, giving my future husband a place alongside the pack.

It makes me love her a little more, despite how badly I currently wish I were alone with him.

There are some whistles and hollers as Killian steps up to the table. The Rawbonds are excited to see their prince. I pause to watch them as Izabel settles him at the table. He sends a playful “ help me ” look back my way, and I just grin back at him, certain he’s going to immediately charm everyone.

Before I can join them, a familiar looming presence prickles up my spine. I tense as his glare sizzles over my skin; I don’t have to see it to know it’s happening.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I tell Stark without even turning.

“When’s the wedding happening, then? You know you ship out to the front right after the graduation ceremony,” he says.

I cross my arms and scratch at my elbow. It helps me focus on something other than how his energy is taking up the whole room and swallowing up the air. Then I force myself to turn and look at him because I don’t want him to think I’m a coward.

Alphas face their problems head-on.

“We haven’t started planning it yet, and it’s actually none of your business.”

He’s wearing his typical glower. His tattoos look darker in the dim light. So does his hair. “Actually, the crown is very much my business, since my family are their sworn protectors,” he tells me.

Fuck . That’s a bleak realization. He’s probably going to become Sovereign Alpha during Killian’s reign. He’s basically destined for the role.

Which means I’m going to have to deal with him constantly .

I’m never going to live a life without mean stares and dramatic looming.

I realize his words have been left lingering too long when his gaze wanders. It finds my neck, and his brow pinches. He’s looking at the mark Killian left , I think to myself, and I hold my head higher. I’m not ashamed.

But then he says with undeserved harshness, “You need your tattoo for tonight.”

“I don’t want you fucking touching me,” I snap instantly.

His lip curls. “ Good . Agreed,” he growls. We stare at each other for a long moment, and unrealized energy gathers in my muscles. I’m really thinking about punching him.

Then he turns and says, “Gamma Elinor.”

A few Rawbonds look over drunkenly, disturbed by Stark’s authoritative voice. But they go back to their business quickly. I drag my eyes from Stark to Elinor, who sweeps her long black hair from her shoulder as she walks over. “Hello, Alpha.”

I bow my head respectfully, relieved.

“She needs her tattoo,” Stark grunts out.

“Ah,” Elinor says with a nod. “Sit, then.”

“How many of these have you done?” I ask as I move to sit in the closest chair.

“Too many, in my years,” she sighs as she produces the ink and needle. To her credit, she says nothing about the love bite on my neck.

Her years. Elinor has a youthfulness to her, but she’s still somewhere in her middle years. Her olive skin is mostly smooth, save from a few very slight hints of aging. I wonder what she’s seen at the front in the decades she’s been in service. If having been here for the last four months has been a good reprieve for her, or if she misses the action of battle.

My quiet hope that Stark would fuck off flickers out when he continues to intrusively loom over us.

The needle digs into my skin. I force my body to remain relaxed, unwilling to let him see my pain right now. Elinor’s needle moves steadily, drawing a horizontal line through the three points of the existing design, bridging the remaining gap.

Collar’s complete, I think.

“Finished,” Elinor says. She straightens and leans in to drag her tongue over my skin. It’s the epitome of unsexy, like getting licked by a lizard. The thought nearly makes me giggle, though my next thought sobers me up.

I guess I can’t keep pretending that it’s the act alone that heats my blood when Stark does it.

As Elinor stands to go, I refuse to think any more about Stark’s stupid tongue. I stand as well, and glare at him. Then I turn on my heel and stalk back to Killian.

When he sees me, his face immediately drops, and he gets up from the table.

“Hey!” someone protests.

“Round’s not over yet.”

“We’re in the middle of a game, man!” Izabel says.

Killian summons a polite smile for them. “I’ll be surrendering, I think. If things keep going this way, I’ll be out the entirety of the crown’s coffers.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, and Killian turns to me and takes my elbow gently.

“You look upset.” His eyes dart over my shoulder. I know Stark’s still there, staring at me. I can feel his malice. Killian’s eyes darken.

“He’s just an enormous asshole,” I grumble.

Killian’s thumb strokes over my skin. “Let’s go, then.”

I nod, relieved. “Please. Thanks.”

He guides me from the busy room and through the pleasantly quiet Strategos anteroom. Then he pushes my door open and ushers me inside, shutting it with a tap and twisting the lock.

I turn to look at him. He leans against the door, hands back in his pockets, hair slightly messier than usual. His eyes glint in the low light.

“Why did you kiss me like that earlier?” he asks immediately.

I’m briefly disoriented by the sudden question. “Wasn’t… it obvious?”

He knows it’s not really an answer. His gaze is prying me open. He steps closer slowly, then reaches up. His fingertip strokes over my fresh tattoo, and I wince from the sting of it. Unexpected pleasure follows the hurt, though, and I shiver.

“You didn’t answer me before, so I’ll ask again.” He wraps his hand gently around my throat, covering up my tattoo. “Are you okay?”

Anxiety pulses through me alongside my already-raised heart rate. I can’t tell him everything. I’m too confused. Too overwhelmed to sort out which steps are safe and which are pitfalls. But I can tell him part of the truth.

“There’s so much in my head. It’s… loud . I want to scream, but when I open my mouth, no sound will come out. I’m stuck. Something is stuck.”

Killian’s gaze changes. He tilts his head down, drenching his eyes in shadow, a storm cloud gathering above the ocean blue. His hand remains on my throat as he steps closer. He’s suddenly entirely in my space.

“I know what you need,” he says. His voice has sunk lower. His fingers rub once, twice over my tattoo, and I wince, but a thousand aching thoughts flood my mind.

“Tell me,” I say. The words come out in a rush of air.

“Sit,” he orders.

I back away from him slowly, never taking my eyes from his. The backs of my knees meet the edge of my bed, and I sit. He steps closer. His belt buckle clings. I watch, flushed, as he slips his belt slowly from his hips. When it’s free, he wraps it around one of his fists.

“Against the headboard.”

I ease backward onto the bed until my back knocks against the headboard. He follows me, moving to rest one knee on the bed and leaning over me. I don’t move as he reaches for me. I let him take one of my hands and lift it above my head, then the other. He moves slowly, maybe waiting for me to protest.

But I won’t. I want this. I want to let everything go.

The leather of the belt slides over my skin. My nipples harden beneath my clothes, and goosebumps shiver over me as he fastens it. Tight. Tighter. So tight that my engagement bracelet digs painfully into my skin, and I grunt.

“Scared, kitten?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Good.” He backs away, and I let out a whine of protest. But he doesn’t leave me entirely. He smiles knowingly as he starts to unlace my boots. Everything he does, he does slowly. “You’re being quiet.”

I realize that he’s right. I haven’t managed a single word since this started. And maybe I want it that way. Maybe I want him to coax and coerce.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” he adds. And he’s suddenly above me, warm and heavy. And his mouth is on mine. I sigh and strain against the belt, wishing I could sink my fingers into his soft hair.

Wishing I could pull him closer and pursue that brutal connection between us again.

But Killian is the one in charge right now. “I have this image. In my head,” he starts to tell me. His voice is like silk. He speaks close to me so that I can feel every word on my skin as he unbuttons my shirt. “You and I are both in it.”

He pushes my shirt open, and my skin prickles from the cold and the sudden sensation of being vulnerably bare. Only for a moment, though, before his warm hands are streaking fire over my ribs. He cups my breasts and squeezes, pressing his thumbs over my nipples. I jolt.

My legs spread instinctively. His eyes are icy fire.

“In this image, I’m sitting on the throne, halfway to making a better world. And you are there with me, perched on my lap.”

He pulls my pants down my body, tossing them aside. Then his fingers play at the edges of my underthings, which are already soaked in anticipation.

“There’s a crown sparkling in your hair,” he tells me, and I nod. “Your pretty silver hair…”

His fingers press into me through the damp fabric, and an unintentional moan escapes me. I quickly stifle it, but his eyes flick to mine and his breath quickens.

“Things change in my imagination. Sometimes you’re on your own throne. Sometimes your hair is long, spilling everywhere. Sometimes it’s up, exposing this pretty neck of yours.” His fingers dance over my tattoo, and I strain against the belt to chase his touch. “But one thing is the same. Every time.”

What? I want to scream. My hips push up against his hand.

He grants me a brief rush of pleasure before his fingers curl beneath my underthings and pull, stripping me entirely naked save for my shirt where it’s trapped at my shoulders.

“Every single time,” he tells me as he pushes my legs farther open. “You’re naked.”

I moan. Just those two words sent me into a spiral of lust. He sees it and sates it. Killian leans over me and slides a finger through my folds. He sinks deep into me, his long fingers reaching deeper than mine ever could.

Then his thumb, pressing my clit. And I moan again, tears welling in my eyes. Already, my body is swelling with need. The sound of his fingers is so fucking filthy.

“Just like this. Naked and spread on my throne as I touch you. And your moans echo through the throne room,” he says right in my ear. “You are my queen, Meryn,” he pants. “All mine.”

The short time it takes him to rip his shirt from his shoulders has me writhing, trying to pull him in with my legs, doing everything I can not to beg for his fingers back.

He falls over me, pressing his chest to mine. I’m breathless from the slide of his heated skin on mine. I arch against him, pressing my breasts to his chest so that I can feel the tiny spikes of pleasure it causes me.

“Let’s hear that voice now,” he says, still stroking me towards my climax.

I shake my head and bite at my lip.

“Still being a stubborn little kitten, then,” he says. His taunting chuckle makes me wild. He kisses me, and it earns another groan. I’m fully riding his hand now. “You want me?”

I nod. My chest heaves, my insides tightening and tightening. It’s good. It’s so fucking good.

And then it stops. Killian leans away from me and removes his hand entirely. I was about to come, and the sensation slips away and sinks back into my muscles, unsatisfied.

“ Killian ,” I beg.

“She speaks,” he says with a laugh. Then I watch as he lifts his hand, the one that was inside me, and sucks his fingers into his mouth. Watching it, my climax flutters back to the surface. Shivers pass back and forth over my entire body. And it gets even more torturously perfect.

He leans back on the mattress and frees himself from his pants. My mouth waters as he strokes slowly over his cock, his eyes raking over my body, pausing at my breasts before settling between my legs where I’m still parted and soaked for him.

I clench around nothing and whimper.

“I want to hear you ask for it, Meryn,” he tells me. His voice is husky.

I yank my hands. I don’t know whether I want my hands to break free so that I can grab him or if I want them to remain trapped. All I know is that I like this delicious push and pull. He’s drawing me out. Drawing out the parts of me that I usually keep in the dark.

“Please,” I manage. I pull my thighs closer to my body, opening myself up, testing his will.

But he just smiles. “Please what?”

“Killian, please .”

“Say it, Meryn.”

A strangled growl rips from me, and then I break. “ Please, fuck me, ” I say. It’s a whine. A needy keen. And I don’t fucking care. I’m not afraid to throw this desperate part of me into his hands.

“You’re mine,” he says, drawing closer.

“I’m yours,” I repeat submissively. “Yours.”

“My queen.”

“Your queen,” I whimper, nodding.

Killian slams into me to the hilt. I cry out at the sudden feeling of being split apart. Emotion pours from my chest, broken loose from the force of it. Tears streak down my face as his hands close punishingly hard around my thighs and his hips start to slam his cock deep, again and again.

I’m barely strong enough to push back now, but I try. Deep need has me struggling to match his pace, pushing myself forward to receive everything he’s giving me.

I grip the belt and lift myself off of the mattress, using my legs to meet his thrusts. Killian growls and bends over me, biting the same spot on my neck as the wild, borderline violent thrashing of his hips drives me against the headboard.

I can’t think. All I can focus on is sensation and the release that’s hitting me like a drug, way before my climax is even here. My head bumps against the wood behind me. My wrists are screaming in blissful pain. My legs are spread so wide that my muscles are straining and protesting.

And the sight of Killian’s body moving over me, muscles rippling and sweat beading on his chest, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

That hungry, dominating look in his eyes is mine for the rest of fucking time.

It goes on until my entire body throbs with the rough rhythm of it. Moans are pouring from my throat. He continues to pound into me until the whole world starts to churn and ripple around me, like our bodies are sending reverberations into the air.

I try to warn him that I’m about to tip over the edge, but words won’t come.

This is momentary, total obliteration at his hands.

He’s right there when I need him, his mouth claiming mine in a dizzying kiss and his fingers pressing down on my clit firmly. I’m helpless against it. Everything tightens.

He groans as I come around him. His fingers don’t stop, though, stroking me until it’s too much.

And I scream. I scream loudly , the sound high and so laden with pleasure and release that I can’t believe it came from my own throat.

I’m so lost to it that I struggle to pay attention to Killian’s climax. I want to watch it because he’s always so beautiful when he unravels. But all I can really focus on is the pulsing throb of his cock and the various little pains around my body that make me feel had in an indescribably perfect way.

He groans above me, hips falling still. He doesn’t withdraw, though, choosing to remain close as I twitch with little aftershocks. We stay like that for a while, my wrists still bound, his head on my shoulder, our chests heaving.

Eventually, though, he lifts himself up on powerful arms and meets my eyes. “Got the scream out,” he says.

I laugh and realize that he’s right. I’m so unburdened. So relieved. And maybe it’s just the heady post-sex feelings talking, but I don’t care right now. He was right . It’s what I needed.

He grunts as he withdraws from me. “Let me fix this, kitten.”

If I were actually an alleycat, I would’ve started purring right then and there. Because he reaches up and gently unfastens the belt, brings my red and swollen wrists to his mouth, and trails kisses over the agitated skin.

“Thanks,” I breathe.

His answer is to take my engagement bracelet between his teeth and bite, his eyes darting up to mine. I grin and turn my hand to pull him in. He lets me, and he lets me kiss him, too, soft and slow.

He leaves my side only to fetch something to clean our bodies, then we lay down together to rest. My head is clear. I feel stronger than I have in days. I curl against his side and sleep, glad that I have someone who understands me the way he does.

I wake late in the night to a gentle knock on my door. I lift my head, instantly alert. Killian sleeps right through the sound, his bare body shining in the moonlight from my window.

I let myself hesitate only long enough to gently stroke my fingers through his hair. Then I leap to my feet and slip quietly into my clothes. I ease the door open slowly, peering around it.

Venna is there, her face worried. Before she speaks, I lift a finger to my lips to silence her and glance behind me meaningfully. I step outside and tap the door shut quietly.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“I found something,” she tells me. “You need to come with me. Now.”