Page 61 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Selestina

“You must consummate the mating bond to lock it in place. Your witnesses are assembled. Don’t keep them waiting.” The wraiths disappear in a cyclone of darkness.

My pulse races. I thought I could do this, but now the idea of doing things with Azrael in front of his brothers terrifies me.

I reach for him through our bond. What happens now?

Now, little angel of mine—my mate, my queen, my love—I’m going to claim you in front of all of them.

Goosebumps race over my skin, and my stomach twists in knots.

Part of me doesn’t think I can go through with this, and the other part longs to feel him inside of me again.

Thinking about it makes my core ache with desire, wetness pooling between my legs, leaving me to self-consciously wonder if he can scent it.

Of course I can smell you. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a predator, Azrael answers. And you, darling, smell fucking delicious.

I should be embarrassed. Instead, I find it exciting. He knows how much I want him without me having to say a word. There’s something extraordinarily romantic about that.

Azrael, I’m scared, I confess.

Don’t be, angel. I promise to make you feel amazing. His words brush against my mind tenderly, like a hug.

I didn’t know we could do that. So if I want to kiss you right now, theoretically I could think about it and you would feel it? I imagine kissing him, and sure enough his lips brush mine—but it’s impossible, he’s far away in his throne.

He rasps, Don’t tease me, love. You won’t be able to handle the monster you’ll awaken.

Maybe I want to wake it up, I tease.

Why would you want to do that? He tilts his head curiously, like he’s trying to solve a problem.

Because I don’t want them to watch us. I want you to make me feel so good I forget where I am and who’s watching.

I would love nothing more than to pleasure you. I live to serve you, my queen. Azrael’s words are like silk whispering to me where only we can hear.

Shadows spill spilling across the floor, racing in every direction before spreading out seizing control of the entire room.

Azrael’s power is far greater than before, his web of darkness spins around me.

The tendrils of his magic crash into mine and pleasure rolls through my body. I clamp my lips tight to stifle a moan.

Don’t, Azrael rasps. I want to hear you.

I cross my legs, squeezing my thighs together to quell the agonizing need for him.

What’s wrong, angel? Can’t handle the monster? He looks over his shoulder smugly, before lifting a brow.

I’m speechless. He must realize my defeat. His shadows coil up my legs, slowly drifting over the skin exposed by the slit in my dress. They slip around my hips, working their way upward, eagerly exploring my body until they cup my breasts and surround me in their protective embrace.

Calm washes over me, and I know he’s attempting to control my emotions.

I don’t fight it. Instead, I welcome the relief, drawing a shaky breath and releasing it slowly.

His shadows of protection fully encompass my body.

Then I feel the soft strokes of them as they slide beneath the fabric of my dress, teasing my nipples until they pebble.

A moan tumbles through our bond, desperate to escape anywhere but my lips.

A rumbling growl echoes back. Tell me, does it feel good when I let my shadows touch you?

Yes, I gasp.

Should I keep going? Azrael asks, his eyes blazing as he holds my stare.

Yes.

He smirks, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. Tell me if you want me to stop.

I don’t want him to stop, and I won’t ask him to, because everything he’s giving me is exactly what my body craves.

I want to be touched. To be ravished and claimed by Azrael.

But I appreciate the sentiment. He’s always such a gentleman.

I shift in the throne chair, uncrossing my legs to get comfortable, inviting him to continue.

The moment I do, his shadows slither around my thighs, and it takes every bit of control not to throw my head back and cry out, as they move against the slickness.

Each pass winds me tighter until a tendril dips inside my entrance, stroking against the walls of my throbbing pussy.

Filling me rhythmically, until they clench around his shadows.

Fuck. You feel so good. You’re soaked.

Don’t stop, I beg, another orgasm building. My fingers wrap over the edge of the throne chair as I fight to maintain my composure.

He doesn’t. His shadow thrusts itself in and out while he speaks through the bond. I can’t wait to be inside of you. I can’t wait to claim you. You’re mine, and I will never stop fighting for your love.

Then claim me, Azrael, I answer.

Not yet. You’re not ready. I told you—I’m going to make you forget where we are. This is still just foreplay, angel. He calls the shadows back, leaving me aching, empty, and teetering on the edge.

Please.

He growls, unable to contain the monster he’s warned me about so many times. But I’m not afraid. I want to be ravished. I’m ready. I want to feel him—all of him.

His thoughts cut through mine. Close your eyes, and think of us together. Can you see me?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture Azrael.

I can feel him waiting, just out of reach.

I picture him tall and dangerous. Wings spread wide, dark and menacing.

Shadows curling around his silhouette. Icy blue eyes sparkling in the darkness I’ve created for us.

His chest bare, the faint light dancing across his muscular stomach.

My eyes follow each ridge and ripple, dipping lower until I’m descending the hard V leading to the waistband of his fighting leathers.

But I don’t stop there—the bulging outline of his hardness is impossible to miss, and I follow its trail greedily.

He smiles at me seductively, like a predator assessing his prey.

His milky white teeth should terrify me, but I’d lick the blood of his enemies from them just to prove I’m not afraid.

He may be a monster, but that’s not what I see.

I imagined him this way because I love the thrill of his dangerous strength.

I crave the protection of the predator poised to hunt and kill for me.

I savor the feel of the hard lines of his body burning beneath my fingertips after years of denial.

But more than anything, I find comfort in the feel of his wings wrapped around me.

The sight of his massive shadow-soft feathers, drenched in darkness and riddled with bone, sends my heart into a pounding tizzy.

When I look at him—determined to destroy anyone who might seek to harm me—my body doesn’t stand a chance.

It sings for him in answer. A siren’s song, begging him to claim me beneath his hot flesh and wings. I’ll eagerly bend for him, ready to beg for the salvation that only he can provide—the pleasure I feel when I’m with him.

I can see you, I finally answer.

Good, I can see you too. His voice is husky with desire.

I take a step forward, yearning to touch him, overwhelmed with the need to be closer still. I blink—and his arms are around me. It’s like he’s actually touching me. Everything feels so real.

Is this—I start to ask, afraid to finish my question.

It’s as real as we make it. But is it actually real? No, he answers.

But why? We have to… you know… in front of everyone. Even in the dreamscape my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Because if you stay here with me, you won’t have to suffer through the trauma and humiliation of performing in front of my family, he confesses.

I look up at him, so brave and strong. If he can be fearsome for me and my protector, then I can be the same for him. I won’t cheapen our mating ceremony for the sake of comfort. I will perform my duties as his soulmate. If I am truly to be worthy, then who am I to deny him this rite of passage?

You do not need to protect me from this, Azrael. It’s not the first time I’ve been forced to perform. Only this time, I’ll enjoy it—because I’ll be with you. All I need is you by my side, guiding me, loving me, and giving me the strength to be as worthy of your love as you are of mine.

He scoops me into a hug, spinning me around. You’re worthy of my love already, angel. And when in doubt, look at these. He points to the lily on my shoulder, and then squeezes my inked hand.

Azrael places me back on the ground, cupping my face. As for this not being the first time you’ve been forced to perform publicly—let’s not speak of that again, unless you wish to be personally responsible for a massacre of the humans.

I nod, feeling the anger simmering in him, barely contained. I promise.

Kiss me then, and seal your promise, he challenges.

Pressing up on my toes, I allow my lips to hover close to his for a moment before brushing against them in the gentlest kiss. When I start to pull back, his hands—one tangled in my hair, the other firm around my waist—drag me into a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Greedy, I tease.

Yes, he answers, breathless.

Impatient.

Always, he groans.

Mine. My hand presses against his chest.

Yours. His knuckles graze my jaw.

You must return us now to the realm, so that I can claim you. His voice wavers, heavy with guilt.

I start to unimagine him, convincing myself I am alone, watching as he fades to nothing.

When I’m ready, I ground myself in the real world.

The smell of the castle, the feel of the throne, my breathing steady and controlled.

Slowly, I blink my eyes open to find his brothers still gathered, watching and waiting.

Azrael slides into my mind one last time. I’m sorry, my love. If I ever hurt you with word or deed, I’ll never forgive myself. You’re strong—and together, we’ll overcome this.

I forgive you. If you hurt me, it’s only because you’re protecting me, I answer, my voice soft and gentle.

I don’t want them to interrupt—to try to steal you away from me.

I know you don’t understand the strange traditions of my world.

If I appear weak, if they deem me unworthy, they can invoke the oldest laws and challenge me for my mate.

The bond is weakest now, in its infancy.

I won’t risk it. I won’t lose you—not after it took me so long to find you.

His confession sends my thoughts spiraling.

Then do whatever must be done to protect our bond.

I refuse to lose you, Azrael. You think you’re a monster, but you’re my savior.

You’ve been my safe space, my comfort—for years.

I will not allow your brothers to simply swoop in and steal me from you.

I will never stop proving myself worthy.

I lift my chin, adjusting in the throne, head high.

You never stop amazing me, he whispers, then withdraws, allowing the bond to fall quiet.

Azrael flashes me a dubious look that sends heat rushing between my legs. Then, snapping his fingers, he commands aloud: “Get on your knees and crawl to me.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

I obey without hesitation, slipping into the role, batting my lashes, swaying my hips as I descend from the throne to the floor. His heated gaze sears right through me.

What are you doing? he growls.

My duty. My chin lifts, challenging him. I’ll do whatever it takes to secure our bond. I swore an oath to the Fates, as did you.

Azrael’s eyes are fixed on mine. With a flick of his hand, shadows coil forth—snaking around my neck, sliding across my shoulders, plunging beneath my dress to cup my breasts.

They tighten and thicken, opaque, so only Azrael can see as they slip my gown from my shoulders, exposing me completely beneath their cover.

Then it will be for my eyes only.

Arousal slicks my thighs as I slowly crawl forward, every muscle trembling with the strain of his brothers’ stares pressing against me, straining against the veil of shadows. They grumble disappointed in the concealment. But instead of yielding and baring me to them, Azrael makes another sacrifice.

Wide-eyed, frozen, I watch as he undoes his pants and free his enormous length.

If I hadn’t already fit him inside me once, I would think it impossible.

Entranced, I stare as he begins to stroke himself, slow and deliberate.

He moves rhythmically. Up. Down. Up again and over his tip.

Again and again. Until he’s swollen, and his arousal glistens in the mage-lights. I gulp, my mouth suddenly dry.

Azrael’s voice breaks my concentration. I guiltily bring my eyes to meet his. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” he clicks his tongue, shaming me. “You’re not crawling, darling.”

Keep moving. They can’t be trusted, he warns.

My arms tremble, but I refuse to show weakness.

I swore I’d be strong for Azrael. I promised to be worthy of him.

Watching his every move, I crawl the remaining distance.

When I reach him, I sit back on my heels, awaiting his next command.

I need him to remain in control—need him to tell me what to do so I can make it through this.

“That’s a good mate.” He motions for me with two fingers. I obey, moving closer until he grips his hard cock with one hand, reaching for me with the other. My hot breath lands on his cock, and it jumps with excitement.

“Open your mouth and accept me,” he rasps, the edge of pleasure threading his voice.

My lips part eagerly. I want to taste him, to bring him pleasure—just not in front of his brothers.

“Good,” he hisses, pressing himself between my lips.

My hands land against his thighs, guiding him as I take exactly what the audience expects.

I suck and swirl, taking him deep, letting my tongue trace every ridge from base to tip.

His head falls back against the throne, moans spilling from him—not a quiet or restrained, but low, guttural, and demanding.

I pull back slightly, lips glistening, eyes meeting his. Desire radiates from him, raw and intense. “Stand up,” he commands, his shadows lingering hungrily across my body. “Remove your dress.”