Page 53

SELENE

N ight has long settled over Orthani, leaving only the hush of its winding streets and the silent tension drifting through Vaelith’s estate.

I stand in a curtained alcove, a single lantern flickering by my side.

My senses hum with anticipation—I’ve summoned all three of them here by subtle hints and unspoken demands.

The swirl of possibility pulses in the air.

Tonight I’ll finish what I started. I’ll show each man that I’m no longer a pawn in their games, but the force guiding their every breath.

My heart paces faster than usual. It’s not simple bravado.

This is the moment I claim them on my terms, and I crave it.

After everything—the midnight battles, the manipulations, the stolen embraces—I want them to witness me wielding true power.

Even Zareth, whose sadism nearly trapped me more than once, will finally kneel at my feet. The notion sets my blood thrumming.

I brush aside the heavy tapestry, stepping from the alcove into a wide chamber Vaelith arranged for “private counsel.” He has no idea I’ve twisted it into a stage for my own drama.

The room is large, warmed by a banked fire in one corner, the walls draped with thick, embroidered cloth to muffle sound.

No prying ears tonight. In the center stands a low divan and several heavy cushions, arranged in a half-circle.

The perfect setting for what I have planned.

The door clicks open. Eryx enters first, his gait casual yet coiled with potential violence.

He glances around, spotting me near the low divan.

A half-smirk tugs at his mouth. “You’re alone?

” he teases, stepping closer. “I expected to find you locked in Vaelith’s embrace or tormenting Zareth further. ”

I tilt my head, letting the smirk reflect right back. “You suspect I can’t handle all three of you at once?”

He laughs softly, that dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t doubt your appetite, Selene. I just wonder how we’ll keep from tearing each other to pieces in one room.”

Before I can respond, the door opens again—Vaelith this time, his broad-shouldered silhouette distinct in the dim lamplight.

A flicker of tension passes over his features as he notices Eryx, but he reins in any outburst. Then he meets my gaze.

The memory of our last clash—and the arrangement that I won’t be his alone—lingers in his eyes, a mixture of resignation and simmering hunger.

“This is what you planned?” Vaelith asks, voice subdued but taut. “Calling us here together?” He darts a wary glance at Eryx, who merely shrugs in an unspoken challenge.

I nod, stepping into the center of the room.

“Yes. I asked you both to come. There’s one more missing.

” My tone barely conceals the thrill that hums in my veins.

I sense the rising friction between the two men.

They’d prefer not to share a space. But my presence binds them.

A flicker of pride curls in my belly—I orchestrated this.

As if on cue, a final figure appears in the doorway—Zareth, eyes hooded with a barely concealed mixture of fury and reluctant fascination.

He enters cautiously, gaze darting between Vaelith and Eryx.

Tension lines his jaw, and I recall how I forced him to beg mere nights ago, how he shattered under my mental onslaught.

My heart clenches with savage satisfaction, remembering the moment he knelt in the psychic plane.

“Selene,” Zareth says, voice low. He looks poised to speak more, but an uncharacteristic uncertainty flits across his face, as though unsure how to address me after his humiliating defeat.

I beckon him closer. “Good. You’re all here. Shut the door.”

Vaelith, ever the commander, steps back to seal it, turning the key.

Now we’re locked in, no watchers to intrude.

The tension spikes—three men, each bound to me in separate ways, stand gathered in a ring of lamplight.

I breathe in the swirl of raw energy, my confidence blazing.

“Thank you for coming,” I say softly, “though I suspect each of you wonders what I want. So let me be clear: I intend to take what I need from each of you. And you’ll comply. ”

A hush follows. Eryx narrows his eyes, half a grin still teasing his lips. Vaelith crosses his arms, trying to mask the conflicting urges I see flickering in his gaze. Zareth stands near the hearth, eyes flicking from me to the two men, as though measuring how to respond. No one dares speak first.

I advance on Zareth, relishing the flicker of anxiety that crosses his face. “You tried to break me, to chain my mind, but you failed,” I murmur. “Now you’re here because some part of you wants me to command you. Admit it.”

His mouth twitches, voice scratchy. “I want your downfall—” he starts, but the words ring hollow. The memory of begging for mercy still clings to him.

I step closer, letting my lips brush the shell of his ear. “You want to be undone by me, Zareth. You want me to harness your sadistic hunger and reshape it. Don’t lie.” My voice is a whisper only he can hear.

A shiver courses through him. I see the telltale tension of denial, but he doesn’t pull away. The magnetism of submission draws him in, no matter how he hates it. I run a hand down his arm. “Kneel,” I say, voice quiet yet unyielding.

His breath catches, gaze darting around.

Eryx watches from a few paces away, eyebrows raised in mild amusement.

Vaelith’s jaw sets, though I glimpse a flicker of satisfaction that Zareth is the one forced to bow.

Zareth’s pride grapples with the command.

He stiffens, fists clenched, but my presence looms in his mind, reminiscent of the psychic plane where I dominated him.

That memory wins out. With a ragged sigh, he drops to his knees, eyes downcast.

A thrill zips through me. This is power in every sense—no illusions, no meltdown, just the raw submission of a once-unbreakable psion. I place a hand atop his head, feeling the tremble that ripples through him. “Good,” I whisper. “Stay there.”

Turning, I find Eryx and Vaelith wearing mirrored expressions of conflicting arousal and wariness. Eryx’s lips quirk, impressed. Vaelith’s posture tightens, wrestling with jealousy. I tilt my chin, beckoning them. “Come,” I command softly. “And do keep from killing each other.”

Vaelith exhales a restrained breath, stepping forward first. Eryx lingers a moment, then follows.

The three men form a semicircle around me.

Zareth remains kneeling at my feet, expression taut with subdued conflict.

My pulse races. I never imagined I’d hold them in one room like this, each ensnared by my presence. It’s heady, dangerously enticing.

“This moment,” I murmur, “is about forging the new order. I’m not your captive, your forbidden purna.

You stand as my… allies? Vessels? I don’t care what label you cling to.

You’ll serve me if you want my touch.” My gaze flicks to each man in turn, letting them see the hunger in my eyes.

I’m no meek lover here. This is my domain.

Eryx flashes that roguish smile. “I recall the last time you commanded me. My body still aches for more, Selene.” He moves in, brushing his knuckles along my shoulder. “Say the word, and I’m yours for the night.”

Vaelith’s stare crackles with guarded intensity. “You expect me to stand side by side with that assassin?” he growls, but there’s a tremor in his voice hinting at unspoken desire.

I cup Vaelith’s chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Yes. You told me you’d share me or lose me. Did you not?” A flicker of pained acceptance crosses his features. He nods, face grim with the knowledge he can’t push me away.

Zareth shifts on his knees. “And me?” he mutters, voice laced with shame. “I tried to enslave you, but you want me here?”

I smirk, sliding my hand down to lift his chin. “I want your submission, Zareth. Every ounce of that twisted hunger. Serve me, and I might spare you the agony of my mind’s lash.” He shutters his eyes, a tremor of reluctant need humming through him.

I step backward onto the plush rugs, guiding them toward the low divan.

Candlelight dances over tense muscles and gleaming eyes.

My pulse hammers with the thrill of having them all.

With a single beckoning gesture, I slide the cloak from my shoulders, revealing an underdress that clings to my curves.

Three pairs of eyes devour the sight. Tension crackles in the chamber, thick with lust and rivalry.

Zareth, still kneeling, lifts his gaze. Vaelith stands to one side, expression stormy, clearly torn between wanting to claim me for himself and abiding by my rules. Eryx prowls close, fingertips grazing the edge of my underdress. I exhale slowly.

The moment teeters. I hold each man’s attention, aware that we’re crossing lines Orthani would never condone. And I relish it. “Let’s see how you fare together, shall we?” I murmur, voice husky. “One by one or all at once. Satisfy me, and I might keep you in my good graces.”

Eryx moves in first, hooking a finger under my chin.

“I recall the taste of you. I missed it.” He leans in, capturing my mouth in a heated kiss.

My body warms at once, responding to the chaos in his aura.

He’s always been the dangerous flirt, the rogue who meets my aggression with teasing confidence.

Vaelith shifts behind me, half growling in annoyance, but I break the kiss with Eryx and pivot, pressing my back to Vaelith’s chest. He utters a ragged sound, arms encircling my waist, pulling me close.

Our last time was a swirl of conflict and jealousy, but tonight, I sense his acceptance that I’ll bed more than him.

His hands sweep over my hips, urging me to remember the tension we share, that discipline he uses on the training ground.

I gasp, head tipping back against his broad shoulder.