Page 8 of Moth & Flame (Gothika & The Blackspire Empire)
DRAVEN
“ A rtemis, what time is it?” My house’s IOCI—inorganic cognitive intelligence—replies a moment later in her cool, feminine voice. “Four p.m., my lord. You have two hours until your appointment with Miss Vex-Nocturni.” My heart leaps with excitement. Every day, the moment that female sneaks into Moth & Flame dressed in a trench coat and moustache with her hair tied up inside that ridiculous fedora, it’s the highlight of my fucking life.
Vale gives me a knowing grin. “Counting down the minutes?”
I spit a mouthful of blood onto the sparring mats. “Always.”
Vale chuckles as warmth and appreciation glow in his eyes. He knows how I feel about Hella—and just how isolated a life I’ve lived. While polygamy is common practice among Sanguinati, I am incapable of sharing. Her engagement is the only reason I haven’t told her how I feel—or given her my knot—despite the way my magic and my beast demand that I do.
“You sure you want me to keep bludgeoning you?”
Vale is a Sentient. Essentially, if a god and a robot could procreate and have offspring, you would get someone like Vale: a feeling, thinking, and creative being made up of inorganic flesh and blood that never tires, never needs to sleep, nor does he have any other biological requirements—although he can partake and quite enjoys doing so.
We only ever spar in my unshifted form, and I don’t use my magic. It would be an unfair advantage and provides me more of a challenge. Today, I bested him in the first fifteen of our sparring rounds, but he’s been handing my ass to me in the last five.
Drawing in a deep breath, I wave him forward, and he lunges for me. My side screams in protest as I force my muscles to contract, leaping forward to meet him and deliver a flying knee to Vale’s perfectly sculpted face.
Thanks to my injuries and fatigue, he sees the move before it lands, weaving out of the way before nailing the other side of my rib cage with a devastating right hook.
Dropping to a knee, I finally raise a hand, followed by a swathe of shadows.
“Match,” Artemis swiftly declares. Her tone is ripe with both boredom and amusement. “Very good, sire. If you’d been fighting a human, they’d be thoroughly deceased.”
Having served the Blackspire Empire since its inception nearly a thousand years ago, my combat skills are unmatched–as is my magic. An exceedingly rare advantage considering the fact that the populace of Gothika has faced dwindling control over their magic since The Exiled arrived.
Still, Artemis never misses a chance to make me the butt of a joke, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Vale’s lips twitch with restrained laughter as I send a bloody grin in the direction of one of her cameras. “Thank you, Artemis.”
Vale swipes a thickly muscled arm across his forehead, which only serves to smear his silver blood. “See you downstairs?”
I nod and turn to leave as Artemis chimes. “You’ve a new client today, Master Vale. Would you like me to read you the details?”
Vale retrieves a moist towel that Artemis has supplied in the dumbwaiter. “How long until they arrive?”
“Not until eight this evening, sir.”
“I’ll check my Spyder Mail later then. Thanks, Arty.”
Artemis’ voice turns sultry. “I live to serve, my lord.”
Vale’s brows lift as he directs a coy grin at the floor, speaking in a husky tone. “If only you had a body to worship, my darling.”
Artemis hums her pleasure. “Perhaps, one day, I shall.”
“If I lick the floor, will you feel it? Would it hasten your desire to join me?”
I shut the door, eager to escape their foreplay and make myself presentable for the female I can no longer deny is my soulbound.