Page 32 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little imposter?” he growled, grip tightening.

“Yes.” I battled for air, arms trembling as I attempted to remain upright when all I wanted to do was collapse.

Sweat beaded my forehead and dripped down my back as Rokath pounded into me.

“More. Please.” Each word strangled out of me as the world spun.

Specks flew in my vision, and I was wound so tight, it wouldn’t take much for me to snap.

He leaned over me, so fucking deep I thought I might split in two. Another cry tore from my throat. “Come for me while you think about what would happen to the unfortunate soldier who witnessed me claiming you.”

With expert fingers, he rubbed my clit, and then, I was gone. With more force than the waves below, pleasure crested and then crashed into me. Brows pinched, mouth open in a silent scream, I rode the tide of pleasure in and out.

“You’d like me killing in your name as much as you liked me punishing in your name. You know, I never did tell you that when those fucking fanatics took you from me, I beat a dozen soldiers bloody for allowing them so close to you. It wasn’t enough.”

Our bond swirled with violent promise and carnal pleasure. Wave after wave of dark desire swept from Rokath to me, prolonging my orgasm. Air flooded my lungs again after he surrendered my neck.

“I would,” I panted, blood thrumming in my veins with the anticipation of the slaughter to come. With the thought of the vengeance Rokath and I would seek against the Angels.

A massive gong reverberated, overtaking the sound of our slapping skin and my moans. “Fuck,” Rokath cursed, quickening his pace. “The Fates made you perfectly for me, Assyria. Our darkness. Our pain. Our pleasure .” To emphasize his point, he sank himself to the hilt and circled his hips .

“Yes,” I hissed, pressing into him. He grabbed my braid and wrapped it around his fist, forcing my spine to arch again.

“You are mine, Assyria. Always have been. Always will be. In every life, in every world, in every form.” All barriers between us swept away as he opened himself to me through the bond.

His reflection darkened, much like his mood.

That possessive protectiveness in him rose as his orgasm closed in on him.

That only served to heighten my pleasure, and my toes curled as my core tightened again.

“Give me one more, since we’re already going to be late,” Rokath commanded, and I did, already so close to the edge. His name ripped from my throat as he thrust brutally into me, over and over and over. My mind went blank of everything but my mate.

He groaned, low, masculine, primal , and slipped out of me. Pumping himself, he coated my back in ropes of his hot cum.

Our breaths came in serrated drags as he gathered me in his arms and flipped me. His lips collided with mine, stealing what little air I had regained. With him, it was never enough—was never going to be enough.

He ended our kiss, bracing his forehead against mine. “Why do you cause me to break all my own rules?”

“You could adjust them,” I pointed out, a small smile curving my lips. I couldn’t deny that I loved the power I held over him though. From our very first interaction, he’d disregarded his carefully crafted regulations for me.

His confession and his story about Thast cast all of those choices into a new light. To Rokath, the strict enforcement had been a way to ensure that never happened again. For him to continue to bend and break them for me was a testament to his adoration. To the way we loved each other.

I scratched his beard, then hooked my fingers together at the base of his neck. Staring into his dark eyes, I professed with words what the bond already told him. “I love you.”

He grabbed my wrists and freed his head, kissing each of the H’s he’d carved into them. “And I you, Assyria.”

Our lips met again with tender care, and he ran his knuckles up and down my ribcage. With a sigh, I pulled back.

“Hurry with your hair. You can bathe again later while I speak with Olet,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Then, he released me to turn on the taps again.

Grabbing a bar of soap from atop a now-soaked pile of bath sheets, I quickly worked it into a lather and cleansed myself.

Then, I unbraided my hair and dunked beneath the flow of water.

Scratching my scalp, I attempted to remove as much sand as possible.

Unfortunately, my locks would take more than a single wash to return to normal.

With a huff, I gave up, deciding I was refreshed enough to eat among the males—especially given that even in this state, I was still cleaner than they were in the war camp.

Rokath found us clothes while I dried and fixed my hair so it wouldn’t drip all over the floor. Grem and Zeec snoozed on their beds as we reentered the sleeping chamber, neither bothering to crack an eye at our departure.

“So how late are we?” I asked with a little giggle as Rokath strapped daggers to his person. He wasn’t dressed in full armor, at least, though his attire was no less intimidating than it would have been otherwise.

Rokath flicked his attention to the clock on the wall. “By the time we get there, only half an hour.”

“Oops,” I shrugged, pulling on my boots. Rokath grumbled something about me under his breath, and I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it handily before striding over to me and yanking me upright. Then, he wrapped a hand around my throat, stroking my fluttering pulse. “Let’s go before I decide to skip dinner altogether and punish that smart mouth.”

I offered him a saccharine smile. Then, he looped his arm over my shoulders and steered us out of his rooms and into the long spiral staircase that would bring us back to reality.

The roar of voices shook the stone around us as we approached the dining hall, and my stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread reached my nostrils. To put it mildly, camp food was little more than a torture device designed to nourish us.

Real food? At the moment, that was better than any sex Rokath could give me.

“Clearly I did not make you come hard enough, little imposter.”

I stopped in my tracks, a scoff slipping out of me. He’d been drifting in my thoughts and I hadn’t even realized.

Smug satisfaction met me when I cursed him down our bond.

Rokath strode forward with powerful, confident strides, leaving me behind.

With a huff, I jogged to catch up, throwing my shoulders back and embodying his attitude.

These males, for the most part, were all new to me.

I’d held my own with Parancsok Olet earlier, and now it was time to prove myself to the rest of them.

Hopefully the ones who traveled with us would spread the word of my newfound infamy and whispers of my Giver-blessed power would garner their favorable regard.

At the end of the hall, two doors were thrown wide, and inside, the mass of males moved, ate, and spoke to one another.

But when Rokath entered the vast commons, conversation ceased, movement slowed, and mouths stopped chewing.

Though he didn’t don his ebony horned helmet before we departed, his aura alone was enough to intimidate and command respect .

Those standing dropped to one knee. Those seated bowed their heads.

But one word whispered from every mouth as we passed by: Halálhívó .

He didn’t deign to look at a single one as we approached a high table with a view over the entire room.

Parancsok Olet was already there, along with Rapp, who looked more pissed off than when we’d left him with the healer earlier.

Yet when I sat down, he shot me a salacious wink.

My cheeks flamed, then heated more as hundreds of pairs of eyes landed on me.

These ones weren’t accustomed to seeing me veilless.

But I refused to show a hint of indecision.

I’d chosen before we left Gyor Palace to never wear a veil again, and I would not waver in that now.

When I’d first ventured out in the war camp, I’d been judged as Rokath’s fallen.

Whispers of our intimacy—or lack thereof—abounded.

Still more about my burgundy eyes and what I’d done to be shackled to the Halálhívó.

Pointed stares, conversations falling as I approached then rising after I passed, and absolute avoidance of my path had prepared me for this battle.

At this point, I was basically immune to the males’ scrutiny.

So I steeled my spine and ignored the room exactly as Rokath had. “Parancsok Olet, Hadvezér Rapp,” I greeted them formally, since we had an audience.

“Szélhámos,” they replied. The conversation picked up again among the males seated below us, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment later, a young male appeared with mugs and a pitcher, placing one in front of Rokath and me and filling them with a citrus water. I reached for my glass, only to be stymied when another appeared with trays of food.

Roasted fish in some sort of white sauce filled one plate, while another brimmed with wilted greens.

A hunk of bread and some cheese waited at the top corner.

The two backed away quickly, disappearing before I’d had a chance to orient myself to what had occurred.

Rokath wasted no time grabbing a knife and fork and tearing into his meal, so I took my own and mimicked him. Olet and Rapp resumed eating too.

“How was your journey?” Olet asked us, his plate already empty. Even in the war camp, everyone ate quickly, no matter what was in front of them.

“Thankfully, uneventful,” Rokath started, pausing to sip from his water.

“Though Hadvezér Rapp’s constant complaints kept us all entertained.

” His gaze cut to Rapp, who stabbed at his fish only for it to fall off his fork when he lifted it.

A string of curses fled his lips, and I smothered a giggle at his expense.

“I swear if anyone tells me I can’t start training again in the next week, I’m going to do it anyway. Damn the consequences,” he grumbled, managing to secure his food this time.

“And what did the lead healer have to say?” I asked him, my tone light and teasing.

“Not that,” he grumbled around a mouthful of his dinner.

Olet and Rokath fell into conversation while I tucked into my plate, consuming every last bite. Afterward, my stomach ached from being so full, but I didn’t care. Not when a month ago, I’d nearly died in the desert.

I was going to savor everything life had to offer from here on out.

Including the dessert that the servers placed in front of me a moment later. I’d barely taken two bites when another gong sounded, and I let out a loud groan. Around the tables below, the males rose, forming neat lines to return their plates and glasses.

The servant appeared, and I waved him away. There was no way I was surrendering this. Not yet at least. Besides, I was the Szélhámos now and I got to break a few rules, whether Rokath wanted me to or not .

He raised a single dark brow in my direction. I offered him a similar glower in return, daring him to challenge me. With an irritated sigh, he let me be, telling the servers to take everyone else’s plates first.

I shoveled the rest of the cake into my mouth, barely catching the crumbs that spilled from it. Then, the plate was snatched out from under me.

“Welcome to life at the military academy, Assyria,” Rapp chuckled, swaying to his feet.

I’d lived through worse. Survived a husband who thought he owned me. Held my own against Rokath as we fought each other for control. Escaped death at the hands of the Angels.

But this place? This was going to test me in a way I’d never been before.

Here, I wouldn’t simply stand beside Rokath as his mate.

I’d step into my identity as an Imposter and remake the realm.