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Chapter sixty-nine

A strid had never realized how constricting the walls of her room were.

It wasn’t the size of the suite or her furnishings.

It was the constant dismissals and hinderance of knowledge that strangled her by degrees.

The silent slights accumulated over the years, becoming a burden she unknowingly carried.

It weighed on her soul, threatening to suffocate her.

The Three-Faced Mother opened her path and sent a Death Spirit to liberate her.

Dimitri had freed her, bound himself to her, and irreparably changed her.

He promised an eternity of devotion if she loved him, and Astrid was dangerously close to losing her heart.

Would it be so terrible? Her sword loved her. It bordered on obsession.

Astrid contemplated her options as she stepped around her four-post bed, surveying the destruction her cousins had wreaked.

Her papers and documents had been scattered across the floor.

The bookcases were emptied, their contents discarded in heaping piles.

Even the stacks of books she’d organized by her urgency to read them had been rummaged through and carelessly strewn near the foot of her bed.

Sorin had used the information she’d sent him and rifled through her things in search of her inventions—her weapons she’d created. He couldn’t be bothered to put anything back because he never expected her to return.

A comb jeweled with emeralds and its matching hair stick were tossed with her other jewelry across her bed. Astrid took the golden stick and unsheathed its hidden dagger.

“I fantasized about killing you and returning here,” Astrid said as she examined the point.

“And what do you fantasize about now?” Dimitri teased as he removed his daggered crown and piled her books on their sides in the empty shelves.

She squinted, reading the titles. He was alphabetizing them. Astrid held her tongue as she gathered the loose pages scattered across the floor. If her room in disarray put her on edge, she could only imagine what it did to her Death Spirit.

She straightened the pages and placed them on her desk. The scar across the back of her hand caught the glow of the chandelier glittering overhead.

“We were bound before Vinceret,” she said, tracing the proof of their union.

Dimitri set the books down and turned toward her. “We are married, wife.”

There was an edge to his voice. A warning and a promise. He would defend his claim, and she would never escape him.

Astrid smiled.

“But not in Clorean tradition, husband,” she answered.

The tension left his eyes, and he moved closer. “Beneath the Three-Faced Mother?” Dimitri asked, smoothing his thumb across her lips. “Do I get to chase you again?”

“It’s a quieter ceremony,” Astrid explained, taking his hand between hers. “We pour our wine into a single glass. It symbolizes our fates becoming one.”

Dimitri leaned closer. “I will happily complete as many rituals as you desire,” he purred.

His callused hands swept down her back and over the curve of her ass. Astrid gasped as he gripped her thighs and lifted her against him. He carried her to their bed, guiding her legs around his waist.

Dimitri laid her down and prowled up her body. She tightened her thighs around him and breathed, “You still owe me a mark, my king.”

“I’ll leave many marks on you, love,” he rasped, trailing kisses down the side of her throat.

Astrid removed her crown and curled a finger under Dimitri’s chin. Her sword lifted his head, and she caressed his cheek. “You owe me a brand. One you’ll wear on your neck.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’d forgotten you wear my crest,” he said, sweeping her hair from her throat.

Astrid turned to the side, giving him an unobstructed view. Dimitri’s firm lips warmed the mark beneath her ear as she asked, “If you don’t recall me wearing it, does that mean I can heal it?”

“No,” he grated. “I should fuck your ass for even asking.”

Astrid moaned at the images his words conjured.

Memories touched her. His strong hands tight on her waist. Her body pressed against his silk sheets as he spread her legs.

The touch of metal before he filled her cunt with a replica of his hard length.

His shadows sweeping over her while he worked the head of his cock into her ass.

Heat bloomed between Astrid’s thighs, and she moaned as her lips met his. She pulled away and breathed, “Or you could let me ride you while you take my brand.”

Dimitri rocked forward, grinding the length of his cock against her center. “You could just ask me to fuck you slow.” His teeth grazed the underside of her jaw, then her throat. “You don’t need to be on top.”

The friction he gave her was perfection and she gripped her crown until her knuckles turned white. “I can’t get a clean brand if you’re moving.”

Her sword hummed in agreement and held her against him. Astrid wrapped her arms around him as he lifted her. Dimitri sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. Candlelight danced over his features.

Her devastatingly handsome male.

Astrid held her crown over the candles, letting the flame lick the serpent’s head. “Hold this here.”

Dimitri obliged and she began unbuckling his belt. His molten gold stare never left her as she unfastened his pants. Astrid fisted his cock, and a groan rumbled from his chest.

“Keep the flame on the serpent’s face,” she said, pulling his length free.

The intensity of his gaze sharpened as his fingers dug into her hip. “I know where it is, neva.”

Astrid rose to her knees and gripped the headboard. “Do you?” she asked at his lips.

Dimitri’s hand slipped lower, hooking the front of her thong. He ripped the thin lace, and the tip of his cock glided against her.

“Ride me or lay back and spread your legs.”

Astrid took her time, rocking her hips as she took the tip of his cock. Her grip on the headboard tightened as she leaned into him. She rose and fell in short motions, savoring the feel of him. How he stretched her as she took him deeper.

“Take it, neva,” he groaned as his head fell back. His hand was a vice on her waist, leading her movements. He yanked her down, forcing more of his thick shaft into her with each fall of her hips.

“Now,” Dimitri said after the length of his cock was buried inside her. He held out her crown. “Lay your mark so I can fuck you properly.”

Astrid took the Serpents’ Crown and pressed the point of her finger against his chin, turning his head to the side. “Don’t move,” she said sweetly.

Heated gold and flesh hissed as she rolled the snake head across the side of his throat. Dimitri tensed beneath her but otherwise didn’t move. She counted five of her heartbeats and meticulously removed her brand.

Astrid’s magic flowed over him. She attempted to heal the wound to a scar, but his soul refused to obey.

“I can’t heal you,” Astrid said returning his attention to her. “Make it scar, or we’ll do this every morning, my king.”