Page 35 of Until the End of Ever (To the Cruel Gods #2)

KLEOS

I would like to pretend I was not turned on by watching two masked, unbearably fit men in tailored clothing beat each other up by way of spells and fists, but I was only human. Ish. Humanish.

“Ouch!” Ronan said with a chuckle, as the golden-masked, mocha-skinned man in a shining white tailcoat gathered another ball of sunlight in his hand, throwing it right at Lucian’s face.

Sun, he’d soon noticed, was the only one of his spells that seemed to bother Lucian. It blinded him and fucked with his balance and focus. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Abrax punched Lucian twice.

I swatted Ronan’s arm. “Whose side are you on? Traitor.”

“Well, clearly, Luce’s, you violent thing. But it’s nice to see him getting punched anyway.”

I kicked him this time.

“All right, all right. We’re firmly team Lucian.”

In the meantime, he’d grabbed Abrax fist and made him punch himself, before twisting his arm behind his back, locking it.

Blue was the color Lucian’s learned magic took, so I knew whatever spell he was working with his free hand, right at the level of Abrax’s face, wasn’t his lethal touch, but Abrax screamed bloody murder anyway, twisting his own shoulder to get away from Lucian.

He tried his sun trick again, but before the golden magic in his palm was much bigger than a walnut, Lucian had leapt, knee first, hitting his face with a bone-crushing sound we all winced at.

Black blood pooled out of the mask, marring the white tux, and the golden shirt beneath.

“Damn.” A guy I didn’t know whistled to my left.

I glanced at him, so he explained, “Those masks they wear are basically armor. Stronger than any metal, coated with protecting spells. It’s not that easy to hit the face. Abrax’s punches probably didn’t even feel like a little slap, but if Lucian drew blood? Abrax felt that.”

The poor bleeding guy took two awkward steps back, obviously off-balance, and a magnanimous Lucian took the time to turn toward the crowd, holding his hands up to give his opponent a moment of reprieve.

We all clapped, screaming his name, me most of all.

Meanwhile Abrax believed that was the perfect time to scream and launch himself at Lucian, crackling magic—lightning?—aimed right at him.

My own magic buzzed beneath my skin, demanding I throw a shield between them, but I refrained.

I wasn’t supposed to interfere. Lucian had this.

He proved it by simply sidestepping the lightning with a little tap dancing move that further humiliated and enraged Abrax.

The idiot threw spell after spell, screaming, punching, and Lucian… just moved away.

The entire crowd laughed.

Seeing he’d made his point, Lucian disappeared in a puff of dark smoke, reappearing right behind Abrax, to kick him forward.

Infuriated and overextended, he started to fall forward, and again, Lucian was gone in the blink of an eye—except this time, my eyes followed, seeing that he wasn’t needlessly opening portals or projecting himself. He moved faster than light.

Abrax might have had a chance to catch himself, but Lucian pushed him face first to the ground, keeping him under his boot.

Abrax screamed, any words unintelligible, his mouth against the polished floor.

“What was that?” Lucian asked, with that strange, dark voice that seem so deep it made the very ground tremble. Or maybe just my knees.

I was fairly certain that what the man was saying was “I yield!” but Lucian said, “I really can’t hear you. And that most definitely doesn’t seem to be an apology to Kleos.”

Abrax cursed, Lucian’s boot pushing harder yet. He was going to crush his windpipe. I brought my hands to my mouth, shocked.

“Sowwy! Awigt, msow?—”

The boot moved up and Lucian smiled down at the poor guy, panting on the floor. “I’m sorry, okay? If you like her, whatever.”

“Why thank you, but I believe your apology ought to go to the lady directly.”

Holy fuck, I was getting wet.

Abrax sat up, back on his knees, still panting, and searched the crowd until he’d found me. “I’m sorry, all right? I don’t like new bloods. I don’t like Pendroses. But if the Regises say you’re one of us, you’re one of us.”

I’d like to say I didn’t cry, but, well, there must be a reason why Ronan handed me his monochrome handkerchief.

Meanwhile, as though he hadn’t just beat up, humiliated, and dominated the guy, Lucian offered Abrax his hand, helped him to stand, and smiled as he half hugged the guy, patting his back.

“I thought they hated each other?” I mused, yet again baffled.

“Meh. I mean, is Abrax a little shit?” Ronan nodded. “Absolutely. But he’s still a childhood friend. Sometimes, we just need to beat each other to a pulp.”

I decided to pretend it made sense.

Lucian then made his way back to us, removing his mask and putting it back in his breast pocket. How many things did he keep in there?

Instead of asking that, I cleared my throat. “You’re going to have to put the mask back on later.”

His signature smirk tugged at his irresistible lips. “Why wait until later?”

Then his mouth was back on mine, fiercely demanding, as hands dragged me against his hardness. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one aroused by a light display of violence.

With what appeared to be no small degree of effort, Lucian tore his mouth away from mine, mask back in hand.

He slid it across his face.

“As the lady commands,” that metallic voice rasped.

I wasn’t even certain how it affected his vocal cords, as the mask only covered half his face.

I’d never seen anything like it. Covered in leather, it looked solid underneath, like it was carved in wood, with intricate patterns that gave me an overall feeling of brutal power.

It covered everything from his nose to his hairline, with two sets of horns protruding from the top, and a sharp point at its center.

There was a meaning to it, and I had every intention of asking about it. Just as soon as I was done kissing him.

I barely noticed us moving, but my back was flat against a cool mural, and then a door as his tongue and lips travelled my bare skin, hands flying over my thigh, my belly, the curve of my breasts.

Knowing it was him underneath the dark leather and yet not clearly seeing Lucian—only his eyes, that damnable mouth, that sharp jawline—was positively sinful.

And then that ring was right there, between my parted thighs, warm and vibrating even through my trousers. I groaned, needy, desperate.

I had to have Lucian right fucking now, and I knew him enough to realize he was going to take me, although we were in the middle of a town meeting.

I made myself focus on my surroundings enough to notice three walls and nearby, a closed door. The space was completed by an open balcony with a view of the atrium we’d been in moments ago.

At the central platform, another fight was taking place as the crowd cheered and booed.

We’d made it to one of the boxes on the first floor.

I didn’t know or care how. All I knew was that we had enough privacy for my fingers to move on Lucian’s belt, fumbling with the button, then the zipper of his tailored slacks, while he did the same with my jeans, infinitely more dexterous.

He had my pants down to my knees in no time, his fingers curving inside me, driving me wild. That didn’t help my mission to get his cock out, but Lucian eventually took pity on me, seizing control.

Suddenly, he twirled me around until I was facing the balcony, placing my hands flat on the stone.

“I would be quiet if I were you, otherwise everyone is going to look up,” that voice declared.

That was all the warning I got. The next moment, his cock pushed inside me in one smooth thrust that made it absolutely impossible to follow his excellent advice. A whine escaped me.

Lucian withdrew with a chuckle, before pushing back in, deeper, harder, unrelenting. I refused to be held responsible for the moan slipping out of my mouth.

“Naughty little witch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to be noticed,” he drawled, rocking his hips as I held on for dear life, doing my best to keep my noises to a minimum.

I’d have thrown up a sound shield if I could focus, but Lucian was ensuring I was very much incapable of doing that.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck?—

My toes curled, forcing me to my tiptoes as my insides clenched. I was going to come and there would be hundreds of witnesses if I couldn’t shut the fuck up. And right now? I really couldn’t.

One talented hand palmed my breasts as the other held my hips in place.

The crowd was too focused on the fight below to spare us a glance, but that could change at any time.

“Lucian, please!” I begged, not sure whether I was asking him to stop or to keep going, simply too desperate for logic.

“I’ve got you, love.”

Then he was pressing my clit, his thrusts going erratic, shallow and fast, hitting my sensitive nub mercilessly. I started to scream, despite the crowd, and any fear of discovery. Lucian lasted another two strokes, and grunted as warmth flooded me.

For a moment, I was too busy catching my breath, but when I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, I turned to glare at Lucian—which might have been more efficient if my pants weren’t down to my knees.

He snickered, gesturing to the open balcony. “Each box is shielded, love. Watch.”

He summoned a tiny fireball and tossed it. It flew for a couple of feet, then hit an invisible wall that shimmered for a moment before regaining its perfect transparency. I might have sensed it if we hadn’t been otherwise engaged.

“Someone has to consciously remove the shield in order to be able to interact with the other floors.”

I should have known. Lucian might not have issues plowing me in public, as he’d proved at Pan’s, but doing so with his own parents nearby was one step too far.

“I hate you,” I grumbled, pulling my pants back up.

He grinned under the mask. “You really don’t.”

Damn him for being right.