Page 29 of Infernal Crown (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

EVREN

Verik disappears down the corridor, his mind already racing through architectural calculations that would give most supernaturals a headache.

The energy rolling off him is pure determination wrapped in hellfire, and I recognise the look.

He’s going to build something unprecedented, and anyone standing in his way is going to regret it.

But my attention shifts to Lysithea. She’s gone quiet, her fingers absently tracing the place where the Crown used to sit. The divine power is gone, but I can see the ghost of it in her eyes—the memory of channelling forces that could reshape existence itself.

“You okay?” I ask.

She blinks, focusing on me. “I had the power to remake everything. I could see across dimensions, understand cosmic truths, fix every flaw in existence.” Her voice drops. “I could’ve left here without bridges. And I gave it up.”

“You chose us over your freedom,” Dathan says, moving closer.

She looks between us, vulnerability bleeding through her usual confidence.

“I gave up power, but I didn’t give up freedom.

Not really.” Her jaw sets with the stubborn determination I’ve grown to love.

“The bridge isn’t just an escape route. It’s proof that we can reshape reality on our own terms without needing godly power to do it. ”

I take her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm.

Two years of undeath taught me the value of simple physical sensations—the weight of her fingers, the pulse at her wrist, the living warmth that I’d forgotten existed.

Now that I’m properly alive again, every touch carries significance that goes beyond mere contact.

“Verik will build his bridge,” I say quietly. “And when he does, you’ll walk across it knowing you chose love over power.”

“Pretty sure choosing love over power is what got us into this mess in the first place,” Dathan points out with his usual dark humour. “But fuck it. We’re good at making terrible decisions together.”

Lysithea laughs, the sound breaking through the weight of recent trauma. “The worst decisions. Absolutely catastrophic choices that somehow keep working out.”

“Speaking of catastrophic choices,” Dathan says, his eyes gleaming with familiar mischief, “what do we do while Verik figures out his architectural nightmare? I’m bored already, and we’ve been standing here for about thirty seconds.”

“Sex,” I say immediately, not giving a shit. “Sex as an alive creature with the woman I love.”

Lysithea’s eyes light up. “Now, that is a plan I’m here for.”

Dathan’s wicked laugh echoes down the corridor as we head back to Lysithea’s room, but the sound carries an edge I’m not used to hearing from him. Death changed him in ways I recognise because resurrection changed me. There’s a weight to him now, a seriousness that lurks beneath the familiar chaos.

We reach her room, and the door barely closes before Lysithea pulls me to her, fingers tangling in my hair. The kiss tastes of desperation and relief, two people who’ve stared down cosmic annihilation and somehow survived.

Being alive is strange. Every sensation hits differently now that it’s real rather than magically sustained. The warmth of her mouth, the pressure of her body against mine, the way my heart hammers in response to her touch. All of it carries significance that goes beyond mere physical reaction.

“You feel different,” she murmurs against my lips.

“I am different.” I run my hands down her sides, marvelling at the simple fact that I can feel the texture of her dress, the heat of her skin beneath it. “Everything feels familiar but new.”

Dathan moves behind her, his hands settling on her hips. The silver scarring that marks his passage through death and return glows faintly in the dim light. “We’re all different. Death does that.”

I catch his eye over Lysithea’s shoulder, and something passes between us. Understanding that goes beyond words. We’ve both crossed the threshold that separates existence from void, both returned marked by experiences that most beings couldn’t survive.

But I’m alive in a way I’ve never been before.

Not just breathing and functioning, but genuinely, impossibly alive.

My heart pounds against my ribs with each beat, a reminder that I’m no longer sustained by necromantic magic.

I’m here because Lysithea chose to spend the last reserves of divine power on giving me true life instead of keeping that god power for herself.

The weight of that sacrifice settles over me like a heavy blanket.

“Hey,” Lysithea says softly, her hand coming up to cup my face. “I can feel you spiralling. Stop it.”

“You gave up everything for us,” I say, the words rough in my throat. “The power to reshape reality, the ability to fix every problem we’ll ever face. You could have?—”

“I could have been a god,” she interrupts, violet eyes fierce. “Alone, perfect, and utterly miserable. Fuck that noise. I’d rather be here with you lot, making terrible decisions and somehow surviving them.”

Dathan’s hands slide up her sides, pulling her dress over her head in one smooth motion. “Best terrible decision we ever made was falling for a Nox Siren with a martyr complex.”

“I don’t have a martyr complex,” Lysithea protests, but her breath catches as my hands find bare skin.

“You absolutely do,” I murmur against her throat, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my lips. “It’s one of your most endearing traits.”

She makes a sound that’s half protest, half moan as Dathan’s mouth finds the curve of her shoulder. The Soul Scar burns warm against my skin, connections between us flaring to life in ways that feel more profound now that I’m properly alive to experience them.

I can feel everything. Not just physical sensations, but the emotional resonance that flows through our bond.

Lysithea’s relief that we’re all still here.

Dathan’s lingering fear from his brush with permanent dissolution.

My own wonder at having a heartbeat that exists because biology demands it rather than because magic sustains it.

“Stop thinking,” Lysithea orders, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. “I can feel you analysing everything, and it’s distracting.”

“Can’t help it,” I admit, though I’m already pulling her closer. “Everything feels new.”

“Then let me remind you how good it feels to be alive,” she says, and there’s something fierce in her eyes that makes my breath catch.

She drops to her knees and looks up at me while she undoes my pants. My cock, already hard just from kissing her, springs free. She grips it tightly before tugging it a few times. Opening her mouth, I move my hips forward to fuck her mouth.

Her hot, wet lips close over my cock, and I throw my head back, letting out a loud groan.

“Fuck that feels good.” I look down at her again and watch her take me deeper, her violet eyes locked on mine as she works me with that fucking perfect mouth.

The sensation overwhelms me in ways I don’t remember from before.

Being properly alive means every nerve ending fires with intensity that necromantic animation could never replicate.

“Fuck, Lysithea,” I breathe, my fingers tangling in her white-blonde hair. Not controlling, just needing the anchor as pleasure threatens to unmake me more thoroughly than any cosmic force ever could.

My cock hardens further in her mouth, and she hums quietly. The vibrations that shoot up my cock almost make me unload in her mouth, and she giggles as she pulls free.

“Bed. Now.”

We strip off the rest of our clothes and move in a tangle of limbs and desperate touches.

She lies back, and I push her legs apart.

Her clit is begging for attention. I lean down and flick my tongue across it, tasting her, and she gasps.

The sound goes straight to my cock, which throbs painfully.

I want to be inside her, but first I want to make her come with my mouth.

I lick her again, slower this time, savouring the way her hips lift off the bed. Being alive means I can taste her properly, which makes everything sharper, more intense. The salt of her skin, the sweetness of her arousal, the way her body responds to every touch.

“Evren,” she whimpers, her fingers tugging my hair.

I work her with my tongue, alternating between soft licks and harder pressure against her clit. She writhes beneath me, her thighs trembling as pleasure builds.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

I don’t. I push her higher, my tongue working her clit while my fingers slide inside her. She’s so wet, so ready, and when I twist my fingers to hit that spot inside her, she shatters.

Her orgasm crashes through her body. My cock throbs in response, desperate for the same release.

I pull back, watching her chest rise and fall as she comes down from the high. Her eyes are glazed, satisfaction and need warring in their depths. “Need you.”

“Inside me,” she demands, reaching for me. “Now.”

I settle between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her pussy. The heat of her is overwhelming, and when I push inside, the sensation nearly undoes me.

“Fuck,” I groan, sinking deeper. Every inch feels like coming home, like the universe has aligned in this single perfect moment. The way her cunt grips me spreads warmth through my entire system.

She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Move,” she gasps. “Please, Evren.”

I start slow, savouring the slide of skin against skin, the way her body accepts mine.

But slow doesn’t last. Need takes over, and I’m thrusting harder, faster, chasing the release I desperately need.

I lose myself in the rhythm, in the way she clenches around me with each thrust. My heart pounds, and the sensation is so foreign and so right that it makes my eyes sting.

“I love you,” she whispers, her hand pressing against my chest.

The words nearly break me. I capture her mouth in a kiss that tastes of desperation and wonder, my hips driving deeper.

The pleasure builds at the base of my spine, spreading through every nerve ending with an intensity that threatens to shatter me.

Pulling back, I whisper against her lips, “I love you too.”

She convulses beneath me, her orgasm pulling me deeper as her body milks my cock. The sensation pushes me past the point of control, and I follow her into oblivion with a groan that tears from somewhere deep in my chest.

The pleasure lingers in my muscles, in the rapid beating of my heart, in the way my skin buzzes with sensation.

“Fuck,” I breathe, staring into her eyes as I unload into her in an orgasm that won’t quit. “You are fucking perfect.”

She reaches up to cup my face, but Dathan interrupts our moment. “This is sweet and all, but my cock is about to explode, so if you don’t mind?”

I chuckle and roll off her, feeling cold now that I’m not buried inside her. But I can’t be selfish. Dathan needs her, too. Maybe even more now than ever.