Page 24 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

The dress I wore to name my father’s killer as his heir? No. I’ll burn it.

He was so hard and thick against my backside, the feeling of desire and anticipation warred with the remaining thoughts dancing at the edges of my mind until his mouth found a pressure point on my neck, sucking while he returned to fondling my breasts.

Need to clean this place up.

Shekar arkasva! Drink up!

Where the hell is she now?

I writhed back against him, as he rolled and pinched my nipples between his fingers, his mouth hot on my neck, biting and licking.

I pushed my ass back at him, angling myself just right for him to enter, for him to stroke me in the exact way I needed.

His erection slid between my folds from behind, back and forth, the head of his cock brushing against my center until he was slick with my arousal. Ready to make the noise stop?

Yes, I thought. Please.

One hand stretched beneath me while his other slid from my breast to my neck, fingers hard against my skin. Tell me you want me. He squeezed.

I want you.

Good kitten. Roughened fingers slid down my leg, gripping beneath my thigh, and in one swift movement, his arm wrenched behind my knee, widening my legs, arching my back further, as he thrust up and inside me.

I gasped, my hands slamming into the wall, fingernails scraping for purchase. His movement forced me to my toes, the pleasure of him piercing the pain I felt everywhere else. I was so full I couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel anything else. My legs were already shaking with exhaustion.

He moved faster, his hands sliding up my arms. The backs of his hands slammed against mine, pressing me into the wall as he thrust harder.

And then, at last, there was silence but for the sound of his body pounding into mine and our gasps mingling with our moans. Both our minds were quiet. Not a single thought from anyone in the fortress could penetrate the walls in my mind—it was mine again. Mine alone. Not the Council’s. Not Meera’s. Not Lyr’s. The bliss of the quiet, the peace…I almost came from the relief alone. No one could ever understand. No one but him.

At last, I could think and voice to myself the thought I’d feared Lyr would land on if she ever knew what I knew. It was the one secret I could only safely dwell on when he was inside me.

Since I’d learned the Emperor could siphon off the magic of mind-readers, I’d had no doubt he was using every vorakh for the same purpose.

All of the spies we’d sent so far had come back empty-handed from the capitol. We couldn’t yet prove there were elixirs for traveling or elixirs for visions. We hadn’t yet been able to prove the other vorakh-wielders were being held, enslaved, and abused. But our spies had seen enough. They’d seen enough Lumerians with vorakh transported from Lethea after their tests. They’d seen the empty graves on the island. They’d seen the captives arrive in the capitol in chains with black rope binding their power, keeping them from vanishing, from seeing, from listening.

Tonight’s revelation changed everything, and I was going to find a way to use that to my advantage. To finally finish what I’d started.

I moaned as he gripped my hips to turn me and bend me over my bed. My face smashed into the sheets, my knuckles white as I gripped them, my first orgasm exploding deep inside me.

The blood of Ka Batavia was too powerful, too strong, too desired. It wasn’t the kind of Lumerian blood one spilt without using, not when that blood belonged to a noble with vorakh. This was partly why he wanted me now, why he came to me.

Our spies hadn’t seen her yet, but it didn’t matter. I knew it in my gut they would find her, and I’d have my proof. Proof that we’d all been lied to. Proof that we’d been deceived.

Proof that Jules was alive.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LYRIANA

I stood in my bedroom with Rhyan, silent as the wind outside howled and snow continued to fall. A sliver of moonlight streaming through my balcony doors mixed with the flames of the outer tower torches. My chest plate was laid out on my dressing table, the red stones in the center of each star glowing against the fire as I stood before the mirror, staring at myself, wondering if I looked different now, if I was different.

I felt different.

I was Asherah. The heat in my chest forbade me from forgetting. And now Morgana knew. Now Rhyan knew.

Somehow, their knowledge made it more real. Made it settle into my body in a way it hadn’t when Mercurial had told me or even when I’d had my first vision of myself as her and gone from standing in Ramia’s tent to an ancient beach from just a touch of the golden stars against my skin.

Rhyan’s jaw hadn’t untensed since he’d heard the news. His emerald eyes had flashed with such an unbridled intensity, I’d felt weak looking at him. The worry and concern raging inside his body were written all over his face. I watched him, standing behind me, through my mirror. Already I could see his mind working, trying to decipher how much danger I was in because of this revelation. I could see him agonizing over what to do next to protect me.