Page 14 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

“Let them hear you, little imposter. Let them know who your mate is, and how well I make your body tremble.” Without further teasing, Rokath yanked at the ties of my pants and tore the sides apart.

He made quick work of opening the leather tunic too, until my bound breasts heaved against the musky air.

Palming the roundness, he lifted them and squeezed before rubbing his thumbs over the hard points beneath them.

“Rise,” he ordered, backing away and leaving my skin far too overheated. Without hesitation, I did. Rokath shoved the tunic over my shoulders, then dug his fingers between my ribs and the wrap of fabric around my chest. In one powerful motion, he ripped it away, drawing a gasp from my lungs .

A masculine groan rumbled out of him as he leaned down and took each nipple in his mouth, raking his teeth for good measure. The world spun while he worked his tongue around the buds, and I melted into him.

His hands hooked under my waistband and shoved my pants to my ankles. The moment they touched the ground, I stepped out of them, because fuck, I needed to feel him between my thighs and the only way that would happen was if I spread them.

I backed away from Rokath, eyes never leaving him.

Through hooded lids, he watched me sink onto his throne and wrap my fingers over the skulls at the edge of the arms. His cock pointed straight at me, dripping from the tip.

Bronze gleamed at his thighs, the dark fabric stretching taught beneath the weight of his armor.

Motionless, but lethal, the kind of coiled stillness that sent a shiver along my spine.

One leg, then the other, dropped out. His eyes sliced straight to the glistening arousal slicking my center.

“So wet for me,” he rumbled, stepping forward.

Like boulders falling from the mountains, his knees hit the floor.

The earth tremored even more than I did.

When he lowered his mouth to my core, I thought I might faint.

As his hot breath ghosted over me, I clenched. “Please,” I said again, my voice hoarse.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me. Please give me pleasure. Please let me feel you inside me.” Each sentence was more desperate than the last, but I was well beyond the point of caring.

With a feral groan, he dipped his head and licked me back to front.

The cry that burst from my throat when his teeth grazed my clit echoed around the canvas walls.

When he flattened his tongue and lapped at me like fresh cream, my head lolled back.

Air flooded my lungs as he parted my folds.

It fled when he slipped the first finger inside.

“Rokath,” I panted, voice no louder than a frantic breath.

“So tight, Assyria. I’ll need to stretch you thoroughly to accommodate me.”

A second finger entered me. He flexed them wide before curling them against a spot deep inside. More wetness gushed out of me as he continued to lavish attention there. Mewls and incoherent words battled with my breath as he worked me into a frenzy.

Nothing else existed in that moment other than us—no war, no Angels, no Demons.

Only the mate the Fates had blessed me with, his masterful movements, and the love that bled between us.

Rokath’s devotion was unquestionable as he ravished my core, yanking me to the edge of the cliffs of pleasure.

For Rokath ruled that domain as much as he ruled on the battlefield.

Images of him slaughtering hordes of Angels, then reanimating their corpses and bending them to his will flooded my mind. His undeniable power, his demonstrated mercilessness, his dark command, all of it enthralled me in a way that transcended our mating bond.

The pain in him called to the pain in me.

And I needed a hint of that to fall over that edge.

“Hurt me,” I whimpered, hips shoving into his face as I sought more.

The grip he held over my thigh turned bruising, and he shoved them further apart with elbow and hand. The edges of bones dug into my soft flesh, bringing me a bite among the pleasure of his fingers and tongue.

“Yes,” I hissed, head tipping back.

“Eyes on me, little imposter,” Rokath commanded in my mind. I snapped my attention down, catching his wicked gaze. His heavy brows pinched, his focus on utterly ravishing me. “You come when I say you come, Assyria. You are mine to command, mine to protect, mine to pleasure.”

My walls clenched over his fingers. Rokath dragged them out to the first knuckle.

A cry of protest slipped out of me. He slammed them into the hilt before the sound had died on my lips.

Again, my walls fluttered. Especially as he curled over that spot again.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” I said, lips morphing into an O as he sucked my clit. “Fuck. Do that again. Please.”

He did, adding a rake of his teeth for good measure. “When you come, scream my name. Scream it loud enough that those fucking Angels hear you.”

“Yes, Halálhívó,” I whimpered, for that was the voice he’d used with me. There was no use in denying that in the throes of pleasure, I fucking loved when he spoke to me in that commanding tone.

He moaned, long and low, against me. The vibration mixed with the rapid pulse of his fingers. The edge of ecstasy emerged. Eyes locked on his, I raced toward it, walls pulsing. With one last nip, I leaped. Careening through the air, losing all semblance of space and time, as pleasure swelled.

“Halálhívó!” I screamed, fingers going numb from the way I dug them into the skulls of our enemies.

My mate continued to work me as sweat beaded and tumbled down my brow, entire body trembling from the force of the pleasure wrung from me.

When my breath finally returned, he released me.

I panted as he rose to his full height. The tattoos decorating his frame looked even more deadly in the low light.

He crooked his fingers, and I sat forward. “Suck them clean.”

My arousal glistened over them, and I took them in my mouth much like I had with his cock. I tasted myself, earthy and sweet, while heat flared in his eyes. When I’d finished, I released them with a pop.

Rokath stripped out of the remainder of his clothes, until his entire lethal body was bared to me. He gripped his massive length and stroked.

“Who am I to you, Assyria?” An undercurrent of violence threaded his tone, and my thighs trembled.

“My mate,” I rasped.

He stepped forward, his dick level with my face. With his free hand he cupped my chin and tilted my head to look up at him.

“And?”

“My protector,” I whimpered, tongue flicking over my lips to wet them.

He smoothed my mussed hair before fisting a bundle at the base of my skull. “Keep going.”

A tremor wracking my frame as energy crackled between us. “Please, I need you inside me.” My core wept at how close his cock was to me.

Using my hair, he yanked me to my feet and captured my mouth in a bruising kiss.

His tongue swiped insistently against the seam of my lips, and I opened for him, tasting myself once again.

He tasted himself too, salty tang and musk mixing.

His teeth dug into my bottom lip as he grasped my hips and hauled me up his hard body.

Spinning, he planted himself on the throne so I was straddling him again. I rolled my hips against his, a sob wrenching from me as finally no barrier remained between us.

“I’ll tell you what you are to me, Assyria,” Rokath growled, fisting his hardness and lining himself with my entrance.

I wrapped my hands around his neck to steady myself, preparing for the way he’d stretch me.

“You are why my blade will swing with renewed fervor. ”

He pressed against me, and my breath hitched.

“You are my reason for breathing.”

One. Fucking. Inch. All he gave me when I was dying for the entirety of him.

“You are my pain.”

A whimper escaped me as he offered me a meager amount more.

“You are my pleasure.”

Arousal gushed from my thighs as the tip finally entered me.

“You are the only female I’ve ever loved. The only I will ever love.”

“Rokath,” I breathed, the word utterly wanton. A wet, slick noise filled the air as he slid deeper inside me.

“You are my mate. I’d kill a million soldiers to hear those three words spill from your pretty lips. To hear my name on them as you shatter around my cock. To feel your cunt pulse as I drag out your pleasure.”

“Rokath, please ,” I begged, opening the floodgates to my desperation.

If I don’t have him inside me right now, I’ll perish.

In one powerful thrust, he seated himself to the hilt. Our skin slapped with so much force he sent me bouncing up before I landed roughly on him again. “Fates,” I cursed, stars of desire dancing in my vision.

Rokath dug his fingers into my ass and dragged me against his hardness. My clit rubbed against the squares of his muscles. A ragged breath fled my lungs.

“Only I am your Fate,” Rokath growled, repeating the motion.

He was so deep, so thick inside me, every nerve was alive from the touch of him.

“No one holds power over you like I do.”

“No,” I whimpered back, rolling my hips and setting a rhythm that had me racing to that blissful edge once again. “Just like no one holds power over you but me.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “They are not one in the same.”

“We’ll see about that,” I panted, trembling as I continued to chase my release.

Rokath guided me up and down his length, a primal groan escaping him as I rocked harder, faster. Sweat slicked my spine, but I didn’t care. A forceful throb drove into my walls, which tightened in response. I was so, so close…

Rokath tightened his grip on my waist, stilling my movements. My mouth flew open, ready to admonish him, but the merciless expression on his face silenced me. “Say those three words and I’ll let you come.”

I tried to snatch at what I so urgently needed. That only served to make Rokath dig in more. “I love you, Rokath,” I whimpered. He was right, my cunt was a greedy little thing.

“Good girl.” He hardened even more inside me. A gasp wedged in my throat as he angled my hips and dragged me along him again.

“Oh, fuck, Rokath?—”

“That’s it, little imposter, come for me. Scream my name again. My real name,” he ground out, keeping his pace exactly as I needed it as I careened over the edge.

“Rokath!” I cried again, the volume, the intensity of my words unmitigated. My voice echoed in my ears as ecstasy shattered through me like I’d hit the ground after leaping over a cliff. It robbed me of all thought, all sense except for pulse after pulse of my core.

“I love you, Assyria,” he rasped into my neck, sinking his teeth over my fluttering heartbeat like he was digging the words into my skin. He thrust into me from below, skin slapping to accompany his forceful grunts. “When the Weaver wanted to create perfection, she wove you.”

Dizzy, I collapsed into his arms, clinging to him like he was my life—because he was. “I love you, Rokath. Your strength, your protection, your devotion. All of it.”

A low moan escaped him and he clenched me tighter against him. “More,” he spoke into my mind.

“You and I are made for each other. Our fire. Our passion. Our pain,” I panted. My thighs trembled from the position he held me in. Another orgasm rose, fast and hard.

“Come with me,” he commanded.

“Yes,” I managed to get out before I was overcome again. Rokath’s teeth sank in again, and the metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils. He groaned, and then he pulled me off of him, letting his cum spill all over the throne of bones.

Shivers of pleasure wracked my frame as we remained wrapped in one another, coming down from the highs of our coupling. Rokath licked at the spot he’d bloodied on my shoulder, soothing the ache. With our fast healing ability, the wound was already closing over.

“Mine,” he said one last time, planting a kiss on the crook of my neck, my pulse point, and then the spot just below my ear.

“Yours,” I replied, scratching the base of his skull with my nails.

When he finally reared back and locked eyes with me, the darkness in them had abated. No longer drunk on lust, he simply held me like I was his most precious possession. He ran his knuckles along my sweaty temple and smoothed the hair out of my face.

“I think it’s time you told me what happened to you. What shaped you into the male you are today. The full, whole truth. No shutting down or brushing me off anymore. I deserve it after everything,” I murmured, leaning into his comfort .

Rokath stiffened before blowing out a long breath. “Fine. But not here. In our tent. And I need some scale.”

“I thought there was a no alcohol rule?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. A teasing smile rose to my lips, though it was soft from the bliss heavy in my veins.

“There is. But I am the Halálhívó and the rules don’t apply to me.”

I scoffed and slipped off his lap. Typical.

Rokath went to one of the cases at the back of the room and returned with a cloth and a pitcher of water. “Sit, let me clean you.”

His tenderness melted my heart. So I did, only to remember that was exactly where he’d spilled his seed. A laugh burst from me. “Is that the first time you’ve come on your throne?”

“The first, though it will not be the last.” He crowded my back and reached around me to wipe it away. The heat emanating off of him was pure bliss. “Now that I know how much you like to scorn them. Devious little thing.”

He nudged me forward and I finally sat, allowing him to wipe my release from my sensitive center. When he finished, we dressed quickly. From that same case, he pulled a flask and tucked it into his pocket. Then he held his hand to me. “Come, and I will tell you everything.”

I threaded my fingers through his, savoring the rough callouses that brushed against my flesh.

Everything with Rokath was…right. The darkness between us.

The pain. The trauma. All of it was woven by the Fates, not to break us, but to bind us.

So we could bleed, burn, and defend when the other needed it most.

All Rokath had to do now was surrender his hard-won throne and let me in.