Page 79

Malice

The Stars are out. They blaze like chips of glass, their light piercing the darkness. Humans and deities classify these constellations differently, which is fine. There’s plenty of room for every idea.

Anyone who says otherwise can go to hell, which isn’t all that bad. He once got close enough to vouch for this. The weather is fantastic in hell.

In the meantime, he’ll stay here. Right fucking here, with his cock encased inside the fiercest of goddesses.

Wonder’s moan shakes the treetops like a force unto its own. Something mythical, indestructible, and capable of relocating the celestials. Perched on Malice’s lap, with her back facing him, she sways her ass on his dick, her wet clench changing his brain chemistry for the better.

A groan skids from his lungs, in tune with every pitch of his waist. He grabs her hips, heaving the goddess up and down, her pussy catching his cock, sealing it tightly. Shaking with noise, Wonder cranes her head back, resting her scalp on the plank of his shoulder, her body churning to the rhythm.

Malice’s spine lounges against the trunk of a pomegranate tree.

Technically, this specimen shouldn’t be here, but he’d conjured the tree shortly before ripping off Wonder’s clothes for the hundred and seventeenth time since they met.

The branches spread over them, crimson orbs hanging from the stems, a replica of the one he planted in The Celestial City’s library.

From this vantage point, an otherworldly vista sprawls ahead. Ah, but this is how she was destined to be fucked. At the top of the forsaken universe by a villain who worships her tears, her ecstasy, and her laughter. Malice, the Dark God she brought to his knees.

He pinches his teeth into the crook of her neck, adding a twinge of pain to this pleasure. She keens in enthusiasm. This female likes straddling the line between softness and harshness, just as much as she likes straddling his body. And he fancies giving her all the options she wants.

But fuck. His wildflower lets loose a string of mighty sounds, each one shoving Malice toward the precipice.

Her ass bends into his pelvis, gyrating to the point of torture.

Her cunt leaks arousal down to his sac, and his crown probes that spot she loves, the light punctures wringing cries from her.

Fucking his mate is decadent. Making love to her is a rite of passage.

Not to say these extracurriculars are mutually exclusive. At the moment, it’s somewhere in between languid fucking and aggressive lovemaking, enhanced by a little combativeness.

Malice pistons his cock, long and deep. Wonder sustains the motions, her legs fanning wide, her hands reaching behind and twining in his hair, her tits pointing, and her moans solidifying into hard sobs. The noises tense, along with the drenched grip of her cunt.

Burying his face into the curve of Wonder’s throat, Malice plants a kiss to her pulse point, tasting life itself. Then he beats his ass faster. In unison, Wonder arches into him and fragments apart. She comes with a beautiful shout, her muscles constricting around Malice, taking him down with her.

His vision blackens, a hiss slicing across his tongue, and a profusion of heat soaks through his veins.

Then his cock pulsates, shuddering inside her.

Malice grabs Wonder’s jaw, wheels her face toward his, and crushes their mouths together.

He growls, coming hard against those plush lips, pouring the violent noises somewhere safe, giving them to her.

In the true nature of deities, the main event lasts a while.

Eventually, they slump, panting and winded as fuck.

On a contented sigh, Wonder pulls away, licking her lips as if having tasted every prolonged roar that had cut from his throat.

She nestles into his chest, her profile settling against his heart, fingers carding through the hair at his nape.

Safety. Not a word he’s ever associated with anyone. Not a feeling he’s experienced often. Malice has spent more time on guard, on the offensive, playing mind games, putting up defenses. But this goddess has always been an exception to his rules.

The more important part? She feels safe with him . And happy. That’s a win he’ll never recover from, an honor he’ll spend the rest of his corrupt existence living up to, an eternal priority.

With his cock still inside her, Malice cords his arms around Wonder’s middle and nuzzles her hair. She releases his own layers and rests her forearms over his, lacing their fingers, reclining naked into him. She breathes in, he breathes out.

It’s been months since his second resurrection. Tonight, Malice holds his most prized possession at the top of a hill.

From the start, Wonder unhinged him. This goddess, with her grit and intelligence.

This female, with her strong-willed jaw that he’d routinely wanted to nibble on like a delicacy, her daydreaming voice that reshaped his heart into a battering ram, her competitive streak that got his dick as stiff as a screwdriver, and the chestnut hair he constantly wanted to twine around his finger. Sometimes to pull, sometimes to caress.

So easy to push her buttons yet so fucking tough. She’d clashed with him, stared him down, fallen asleep with him. She’d wrung him out and filled him with adrenaline, rivalry, and rage. This female had turned him into a hot mess of confusion and cravings.

And longing. And affection.

Then more. A hell of a lot more.

How did this happen? Why did The Stars enable it? Was it their doing at all?

Maybe he was reincarnated because of his letter to Wonder, when he expressed a desire to know what immortality was like. Maybe the sky had listened. Maybe the constellations gave him that wish as compensation for what one of their goddesses had done, having cut short his life’s path.

In The Hollow Chamber, he might have released Quill, but Malice had still been shot through the fucking heart.

So maybe he was given another chance at immortality because of the legend, because he’d only just succeeded in recovering the vital organ in question, because he’d only just earned the reward.

And maybe fate had wanted to apologize for the ruler who struck him down during a ceasefire.

Maybe The Stars had aligned. Maybe all of this had happened because of one thing. Maybe a shitload of things.

Malice bows his head, skimming Wonder’s shoulder with his lips, relishing the goosebumps charging across her flesh like a chain reaction.

His limbs bend on either side of the library queen, and his arms flex around her.

Conjuring a blanket, he swaddles them in the material, their jaws touching as they watch the landscape.

How many environments have they christened so far? He’s lost count.

On that score, it’s been a hot minute since he made her come, and already his blood stirs for another victory lap. What can he say? Her smile alone jumpstarts his cock, which has yet to vacate her pussy, which might take a while.

Malice’s teeth nibble the side of her throat. “Rawr.”

Wonder chuckles. “Again?”

“Is that a question? I like questions.”

“This is dangerous,” she gasps in delight when he cups her tits under the blanket and snacks on her neck. “We should prepare.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he flirts.

“I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who tore off my jacket like a wanton. We haven’t done much talking since.”

Also not true. He usually has a lot to say when they’re in the thick of sex. As to their location, sure. She’s right about getting frisky here, out in the open, of all places. But really, he likes to think of it as a perk of being rebels.

He murmurs as much, earning another laugh that grips his abdomen, joy lurching through his body. It’s the best sound in the universe, other than when she’s reading aloud or screaming his name.

“Malice,” she says, twisting to receive his greedy kiss.

“Wonder,” he groans, savoring her tongue.

A feminine throat clears, the inconvenient sound grating Malice’s tolerance threshold to dust.

By contrast, a less discreet throat blusters, “What the fuck?”

The stormy noise jackhammers through the summit. Wonder peeps in mortification and scrambles into Malice, attempting to conceal her nudity. It goes without saying by now, but this is less about modesty and more about privacy.

He hisses, recognizing that thunderstruck voice. By the Fates, he’s going to strangle this motherfucker. Malice might have redeemed himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of going on a murder spree.

Dicing his gaze to the right, Malice gnashes his teeth. “Fuck off.”

“No,” Anger barks on everyone’s behalf.

Thanks to extra doses of Asterra Flora, six figures stand on the hill like a bunch of voyeurs, each of them backdropped by a panorama of flashing constellations and a metallic cliff range.

On second thought, not that he doesn’t want to impale Anger for interrupting a second bout of fuckery.

But at least this gives Malice another opportunity to piss off the cantankerous god.

Until Malice gets Wonder alone again, this consolation prize will have to do.

“You’re early, mate,” Malice threatens. “What have I told you about being early? Bad, bad leader.”

Because Anger’s granite features shift through about ten different barbaric reactions, Malice pushes his luck by flashing a shit-eating grin.

Wonder flushes as crimson as the pomegranate tree sprawling above them. Peeking over Malice’s broad shoulder, she attempts to buffer the situation, which wouldn’t be the first time. “Dearests,” she sputters. “We were just—”

“Do not clarify,” Anger grumbles, looking all windswept and broody.

“Speak for yourself,” a silken male voice contradicts. “I want explicit details.”