Page 12

12

A SATISFYING LESSON

Ryther

I down the second drink, doing my best to ignore the voices behind the door. Of course, she's letting her stay. Of course, she's happy to dangle a weakness right in our enemies’ faces, selfish, impulsive, immature chit that she is. I want to strangle her.

At least the human chick wasn't smart enough to demand a promise.

The human leaves the chamber in search of the restroom, and I rise, taking the pale wine with me.

Part of me tells me I shouldn't. I'm not myself. The anger coursing through my veins, fueled by the concern of the last day, and the simple fact that Darina's already made a stupid fucking choice that could cost her life, mere moments after waking, is a living thing. I just don't happen to care.

I find her still lying down on the humongous thorn, stone, vine and glass bed, nestled at the center of the blue and pink room, full of soft silk andorganza. I wouldn't have imagined the queen's chamber to be this feminine. I've never come here of course; the reception room, the adjacent drawing room, music parlor, office and library, I've seen, but this is the place where the queen would only have received her lovers. It makes me understand how little I truly knew her. To the world, she showed a mask devoid of preference. I would have imagined white and black. Simplicity.

It suits Darina, though. She's never had cause to learn to hide herself behind the crown. Not yet.

"Ryther. You cut your hair.”

It was marred with her blood and stank of iron; of course I cut it, but who gives a single fuck about my hair?

"Send her away." My voice comes out in a growl. "She'll get you killed—she'll get herself killed before the week is out. Don't you care about the fact that you just died? The lengths I had to go to just for you to stand there? And you're already throwing it all away for your mortal whims?"

Her eyes narrow as she sits up. "No."

I fully expected that response. I knew she'd be unreasonable, selfish, false .

Wait.

For all her flaws, and she has many, that last one isn't quite right. When has Darina ever played me false?

Again, this isn't coming entirely from me.

I still can't stop it. "Send her away or I'll snap her neck myself."

"Touch a hair on her head and I will destroy you! " she roars, leaping to her feet.

This should feel wrong, both of us at each other's throat like this. This isn't a normal fight. Darina was always prone to push me, but not like this. Nor have I ever been this uncompromising.

A part of me wants to lash out, push every single ounce of power at my disposal against her until I leave nothing but cinders. But that's not my only instinct. Beyond that, I want other things from that lying, cheating, cruel slut.

What in all the hell?

She's never lied. She couldn't if she tried. She's never cheated. We've made no commitment, no promises to each other, either by deeds or words. There may be marks on our skin saying that we belong to each other, but we get to define what that means.

And cruel? If anyone deserves that accusation, it's me, not her.

I make myself breathe out, downing the drink in my hand in one swallow. "I—I'm not in control."

"Nor am I," she snaps between clenched teeth, just as wound up.

I wonder what insults cross her mind.

What have those two done to each other, and how do we avoid paying the price for their mistakes?

I am genuinely angry she's even thinking about keeping her mortal sister here, a vulnerability she can't afford. But the gods inside us are using that to turn us against each other.

I don't know which one of us moves first, but suddenly, my mouth is on hers, and my hands pull at her slip.

This.

We're all in agreement, in and out. We want this.We crave it. For one moment the gods are silent, dying for what we can give them; a sense of closeness they haven't had the chance, or the courage, to take for millennia.

She tastes like sunshine and flowers and mine .

So completely, utterly mine, in a way that makes the world spin onto itself. The rush of possessiveness, completion, and rightness shock me to the bone, rewriting what I am.

I wish I could take my time. Explore her. Kiss every inch of her skin, every crevice, until she understands it as clearly as I do.

Instead, I take. I claim . My hand wraps around her pretty little neck, holding on to it tight, struggling not to squeeze harder.

A threat lights her eyes, those shifting pupils turning all white, but I don’t let go, choking her a little harder in a warning of my own.

“You may become queen, you may soon command all of the lords of the land and sea in Ilvaris but here, behind those closed doors, when it’s simply me and you, I am in charge.”

“Oh, and why—because of your almighty penis?”

“You know just how mighty it is.” A half snort, half chuckle escapes my lips. “But mostly because you like it.”

Never letting go of her throat, I push my knees between her legs, flush against her crotch.

She’s not wearing anything under the slip, and I can feel how fucking drenched she is.

“And you need it.”

I push her against her plush bed none too gently, the white fabric rising up, revealing her slender legs and that delightful pussy. She grabs onto the edge of the slip, but with a grunt, I shove her hand back, pushing her legs farther apart instead.

“You’re going to stay right there,” I sneer. “And you’re going to take what I give you.”

I don’t wait for a reply, bringing my mouth to her center to devour her. Slowly. Sensually. Parting her folds, running my tongue over her sweetness.

I drink in her sounds, each intake of breath, each moan, enthused, drunk on them, needing more. My mouth closes over her clit as she struggles beneath me, her hips trying to crawl away from the overwhelming laps, I suppose. Instead of allowing her to run, I give her more, curling two fingers inside her molten folds.

“Ryther! It’s too much.”

It’s not nearly enough. I suck. I lick. I tease. I even bite, until she’s finally screaming incoherently, and coming all over my mouth.

Only then do I give into the blinding need growing inside me and climb over her, freeing my throbbing cock. “You’ll take this too, won’t you? Like a good little whore.”

The vicious anger is back with a vengeance, but not diminishing my desire. Little as I might understand it, Darina doesn’t seem to balk at it, as though part of her knows the reason behind the fury.

I have the presence of mind to tell myself that we’re going to have to work out what in the seven hells happened between these two entities if we’re going to survive them, otherwise they truly will make us consume each other.

And then I’m driving into her anyway, harder, faster, taking her with both rage and unquenchable yearning.

I’ve never been one for cute words and sweet loving, but I’ve also never fucked anyone like this, screwing her into the mattress so forcefully any other bed would break in two. The high queen’s furniture squeaks in protest, banging against the wall hard enough to crack it, both of our screams bouncing off the walls.

While one of my thumbs flicks her clit, my other hand seeks her throat again, and she wraps those legs around me to keep me close.

“Oh my fucking god!” someone screams.

I frown, my hips never stopping as I turn to find the damnable mortal in the room, in front of a small door; she was in the bathroom, no doubt. I wonder at her shock. The room is likely soundless thanks to some spell, if she’s surprised.

“It’s called fucking, if you’re not familiar with the concept,” I inform her, returning my attention to her sister. “You know where the door is.”

But she stays planted on her feet, presumably shocked. I guess she hasn’t heard about fucking, then. Or maybe she’s wondering if I’m murdering her sister.

Darina’s bent in two by now, ass up in the air, and I am still choking her. Only a little.

She looks like she’s trying to talk, probably to tell her sister to go, but my unrelenting thrusts aren’t letting anything but needy, desperate grunts come out of her throat.

I’m certainly not going to deny her a second orgasm—or deny myself a first—because the mortal is a Peeping Tom, or a pearl clutcher, I can’t quite tell. Maybe a bit of both.

We’re so very close.

“You’re hurting her, you lunatic!” the mortal yells, striding forward self-righteously. “She can’t breathe.”

She has the audacity to climb onto the bed and wrap her tiny hands around my arm.

I laugh, my hand leaving her sister’s clit to grab her neck too, and pin her down on the bed.

“Ryther!” Darina manages to whine. “Let—let her go.”

“But it seems like your little sister wants to play.” I am delighted, by the sheer, cruel salaciousness of it all.

Given the sharp intake of breath I catch, the mortal isn’t as outraged as she’d like to pretend—or at least, not only outraged. She wants this, to some extent.

Unfortunately for her, I’m not even remotely interested in anything but teaching her her place.

“Get on all fours, lower those lewd, skin-clinging things you call pants to your knees and wait your turn,” I demand.

“Ryther!”

I stop choking the mortal only to flatten my free palm against Darina’s mouth as the sister moves to comply, her body betraying her. She’s shaking as she presents that plump ass to me and eases her pants down, leaving nothing but a string of black fabric between her cheeks. Mortals truly do have the most interesting ideas about underwear.

“You wanted her to stay,” I remind her. “Without any protection, any idea what she was getting herself into. You can watch the result. Touch yourself, girl,” I demand.

I’m certainly not about to do it.

Darina’s struggling beneath me, and I can feel power gathering inside her, but she’s not about to call upon the devastating magic with her fragile sister so close. Instead, she flails. Her legs kick. Her hands try to push me, stop me.

I flip her to her back, twisting her arms that are gathered in one of my hands as I dive back into her cunt, tight and wet as ever.

I snag a fistful of her hand and lift her bust so she’s watching her puppet sister finger herself between sobs. “Look at her. I didn’t even try . Any of the folk can do this to her. Anyone can do far worse.”

“You’re a fucking asshole!” she screams.

I chuckle, letting go of her hair. “Thank you for the reminder.”

My fingers spread her ass cheeks now, and I slide my index past the ring of tight muscle in her ass. “I did forget how much you like fucking assholes.”

I only finger her because we’re both at the brink of the precipice and I want—no, I need —to come inside her pussy. To fill her. To spill my seed inside her womb.

Mine, mine, mine.

Despite all her outrage and anger, Darina’s panting, her breathing hitching in her throat as her cunt strangles my cock. Then she’s drenching me for the second time, that hole swallowing me so deep, I can’t help but come with her.

By all the gods. I lose my sight, and tremble all over, coming so much it dazes me. It’s all I can do not to slump over her, utterly spent.

My eyes cut to the sister, who mopes and whines and fingers herself, still.

“Mayhap you’ve learned to stay out of what doesn’t concern you,” I say, though I doubt it. “You may stop and go. The next time I find you in my presence without protection, I’ll assume you wish to shove something in your cunt again.”

“Ryther!” Darina snaps, sitting up to slap my face.

I let her. I even smile. “This lesson was for you, too. If you wish her to stay, this is her fate.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you enjoyed it.”

I enjoyed embarrassing and enraging her. I care nothing for the mortal whose name I didn’t even bother to learn.

“Was I supposed to hide it?”

She shakes her head, turning to the girl, but she’s already left the bed, lifted her pants and run for it. “Rachel!”

“So, that was her name,” I muse, tilting my head.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can sadly believe you’d leave her in a position where anyone could. You’re that reckless.”

Darina moves to go after the mortal, but I grab her wrist. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not even nearly done with you yet.”