Page 28 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Deeper

Rayze

His palm fists my hair, and his mouth takes mine. Brutally. Desperately. He sinks his tongue in a claiming. Like he wants to invade the deepest parts of me, to make me pliable and accepting of his mistakes.

But my only acceptance is of obedience and revenge.

His obedience. My revenge.

I let my bow clatter to the ground and scrape my fingers into his hair in a demand, but his palm covers my cheek, his thumb nudging my chin to open me further.

He tastes like violence. A lethal potency that will leave me wet and wanting for the rest of my days. Desperation stretches between us, our souls reaching for each other.

Then we fall.

We land hard against the floor, our kiss never breaking. We struggle against bloody tile, the scent of copper thick. My shoulder hits something soft. Cold.

A corpse.

Warrick growls and kicks the body aside with a thud. Another lies half-curled near my boot. He shoves it with his knee, clearing space with ruthless indifference, never looking away from me.

Behold, his so-called shame.

His arm snakes around my waist and secures me in a vise. Ragged breaths wrench from his wet, swollen lips, and a gasp hisses between my teeth when he tears my head back. He glares down at me with a gaze that could end universes.

“So fucking good,” he rasps, and he strips me bare.

My weapons belt crashes nearby. My coat is lost to the mess of limbs and tile. His hands are under my dress, dragging me up his body until I’m clinging to him, my heels pressing into his back. His teeth graze my jaw, and I groan into his mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

I won’t.

He grinds into me, still clothed and yet every inch of him is unforgiving. His cock presses thick against the soaked fabric between us, straining.

Then his fingers tighten at my waist. “Tell me you hate me.”

“I do.” I yank at the buckle of his belt.

There’s no finesse, only need. Desperate, clawing need. I won’t deny that I want this, and I also won’t deny that I hate wanting it. I hate the pain in his eyes, the soft smile on his lips, the little heart-jerking tugs along the Bond.

Like he cares . About me. About truly saving Skin.

We’ll see.

He fists his cock in one hand and teases his head against my opening.

“Rayze,” he says, my name both curse and wish. “I’m begging you,” he whispers, his voice rumbling through his chest. “Let me claim you. Please.”

Heart thrashing, I grasp his cheeks and gently skim my lips over his with a small nod. “Fuck me, my snake,” I whisper. “Now.”

He pushes inside.

I bite down on a moan, shifting my hips to take him further. Let him bury his guilt in me. That’s fine. I can work with shame. It’s almost as pliable as rage.

His shoulders flex under my palms, smeared with blood. He sinks until he’s pressed to the hilt, our breaths shallow and shaken. He touches his forehead to mine, his fingers twitching against my thighs.

We stare—Warrick, caught in the stretch of me around him, and me, watching all that malleable darkness break across his face. The vein at his temple flares. His pupils dilate. The creases in his forehead deepen.

There isn’t an inch of him left unaffected by me.

“Rayze,” he whispers and drags a hand up my spine.

My nails bite into his back.

Still, he doesn’t thrust. He sinks and sinks, and my mouth drops open, brow furrowed. I’ve been filled and taken hundreds of times, but this—it’s new and terrifying.

Commands snap through my mind, desperate to be wielded, to control my warring emotions. My heart and my head scream, but I focus on my gut. On the pure adoration flowing across the Bond from my snake, and on the rising desire of my power.

“That’s it, baby.” His lips brush mine. “Take every fucking inch.”

“You think this is too much for me?” I whisper, and his eyes darken. My hands tighten against his shoulders, my jaw clenched. “ Deeper .”

His mouth meets mine, all teeth and trembling hunger. Then he moves.

I clutch his shoulders as he fucks into me, my spine scraping stone, the Bond crackling between us. He groans into my neck, lips open over my pulse.

“Gods,” he breathes, “you were made for me.”

“Wrong,” I moan and claw down his chest, grinding against him. “You were made for me .”

He drives deeper. Rougher.

I shout his name. He groans mine. Our mouths find each other again. I taste blood and lust and—

My climax hits.

The Bond snaps taut and wild. Starlight breaks across my knuckles, my vision blurring between planes. Threads tangle into view, winding around us in a tight funnel. A jagged split opens in the fabric of Warrick’s threads, wide and willing with every ruinous quake of my pussy.

There—there it is. What I’ve sought.

I crane my head back, coming and coming , my power seeping along our Bond and slipping into that split like he fills me. It tastes him, tests him, his mouth swallowing my silent scream as he bursts inside me, magic surging.

Heat blooms through my chest, stretching through my entirety and carving forward, twining with a sliver of power already waiting for me. He takes my surge of power, his soul drinking my rage and binding it to the magic sitting dormant among his threads.

Gods, he takes it like such a good fucking weapon .

My breath chokes as I seize with another orgasm, the veil of Fate shuddering out of focus.

“Angel,” my snake breathes, his pupils swallowing his eyes, his lips parted in desperate breaths. “Magic. I feel— I feel magic .” He hums against my lips, his cum smearing between my thighs.

I press my forehead to his, a smile crawling over my face as little spokes of white glimmer over his knuckles. “Come home with me?” I ask, my voice timid.

“Yes.” He kisses me hard.

Yes . I yank from his mouth and bite at his ear, my hand sliding over his neck.

Threads flicker.

“If I asked you to tear apart your city,” I murmur. “Would you?”

Warrick tilts his head back, giving me better access. “Yes,” he groans.

I grin and squeeze lightly. “And if I want you to prove your loyalty, to show me you’ll protect that power you feel?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

He leans into my chokehold, his dark eyes locking with mine. “Anything.”

I lean to his ear, my heart pounding in my ears. “Then sleep ,” I command, and The Serpent Heir crashes to the floor.