Page 80 of A Deal with the Shadow King

“Wait. We have to be smart about this.” She jumps to her feet, her usual grace blurred by the overindulgent intake of alcohol as she bends over her desk and reaches for something hidden underneath. “Here. Wear this.” She presses her favorite hoodie—the one with a red bull silhouette on its front—to my chest. “This way, no one will look twice at you on your way back to your room.”

“It’s almost dawn.”

“Still, we should take precautions.”

Her instructions don’t quite fit with my secret plan to find One and demand answers, but she’s got a point. She helps me unzip the side of my dress and bunches it under the desk.

Now wearing only underwear, I throw Lori’s large hoodie over my head, the hem coming down to my mid-thighs, and tuck my braid carefully out of sight. “How do I look?”

“Like me, honestly. If someone sees you from afar, they’ll assume you’re me and not think twice. You’re not exactly known for lurking about the tunnels in your underwear. I’ll stay here for ten minutes and follow. I need to sober up.”

“Alright, goodnight.” I peck Lori’s cheek like I would Cece and leave her in the library, heading silently to a section of the underground tunnels I never visited.

Mara let it slip the other day that the triplets slept under the gym, in the northern section of the tunnels, so I tiptoe down the unfamiliar corridor, hoping I’ve got the right one.

The doors all look the same, and I become confused after a few intersections, unsure if I’m still heading in the right direction.

Just as I’m about to give up, a scream pierces the night. Alarmed, I hurry down the closest hallway, the rough carpet scratching my bare feet. I follow the sound around a tight corner and emerge in front of another series of identical doors. Forest-green paint chips off the wood panels in large clusters, a few areas sanded down to the grain.

“Please, please, please,” a woman begs, and I slow down, inching closer to the sliver of light in the distance, wrapping myself in the deepest shadow I can summon given my intoxicated state.

The door of the bedroom is ajar, and I peek through the light and see a woman lying down on her back. Mara.

A high-pitched sound whizzes out of her, and I steal another glance, catching a glimpse of her arched back and hard nipples. Heart pounding, I stop playing chicken and hide deep inside the shadows of the doorway, the destructive urge to spy on her trampling all reason. I’m both fascinated and disgusted by what she’s doing, and all the scandalous drawings in Demeter couldn’t have prepared me for the reality of…fucking.

One of the triplets is standing between Mara’s legs, his bare bottom perfectly visible in the night, the fireplace burning bright next to the bed. The angle prevents me from seeing too much of their private parts, but each crackle of fire highlights the man’s corded muscles as he pounds in and out of my fellow seed, the woman who sat beside me at breakfast and dinner so many times.

I catch a glimpse of an iridescent mask as Three flips Mara to her stomach, and she crouches on all four, her breasts dangling. Both relief and surprise hit me at once.

Three?

“Fuck, yes.” She raises her rump in the air. “Harder.”

My breath stutters as she reaches her arm toward the corner of the room, and Two appears with a golden cup in his hands, half-naked and grinning at the scene in front of him. “See? I knew you’d like fantasies, too.” He sips on his wine, watching his brother pleasure himself with Mara. “How is she?”

Three shrugs as he starts to move his hips again, his expression a bit too relaxed for what he’s doing.

“Oh…yes.” Her voice is brittle, as though she might break if Three stops, not minding their little chat one bit.

What the crops? Why is he here? Just watching?

She certainly does not look like the women in the drawings, happy for her body to be used instead of terrified, clearly taking pleasure from it.

Two reaches out to twist her breasts, and after a moment she cries out, shaking, and falls to her stomach on the bed. The movement causes Three to slide out of her, and he steals the cup from his brother’s hand.

I stifle a gasp with my hand at the sight of his erect cock, feeling like I might melt into the floor, and grip the end of the hoodie.

Three gulps down the rest of the wine and wraps a lazy hand in Mara’s red mane.

“Open your beautiful mouth, Mara,” Two murmurs in a low baritone that sends tremors down my spine.

Three is huge, but the wanton seed obeys his command, and he slides his manhood all the way inside her mouth. I grab my throat, imagining how painful it must feel, but Mara moans in approval, and my brows bend in question.

My heart fanfares—boom, boom, boom—and the heavy thuds drown out her moans. Suddenly, a hand closes around my wrist, hard enough to bruise me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” One hisses under his breath. He quietly closes the bedroom door shut, his mouth pursed in anger.

He’s not wearing his usual tunic, but a simple cotton shirt with short sleeves.

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