Page 68 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Kiera

“Ihope you don’t think that’s the end.” I don’t get even a moment of reprieve it seems before Theos’ sudden words are followed by the even more abrupt movement of him standing up from the chair with me still in his arms.

As he hefts me higher, I blink lazily as I lean back and wrap my legs around his hips to keep from falling. The grin I’m met with on his face has cleared away all of the earlier agony. For this moment, he seems to have forgotten his sorrow and I don’t want to remind him.

“No,” I say, circling my arms around his neck and shoulders. “It’s not.” For once, I want to be someone’s solace and not their demise. Forcing a smile to my own lips at the reminder of what I’ve been to so many others, I allow Theos to carry me across the space to the open doorway of his bedroom. “Are you going to show me what else you’re capable of, Theos Darkhaven?” I challenge him.

A lock of pale hair slides over his forehead as he shakes his head. “You are a dangerous creature, Dea, but yes, I’m going to show you exactly what I’m capable of.”

The place between my thighs twinges with discomfort. The wetness from before isn’t drying at all, not with the way he brushes against me—his quickly rehardening cock rubbing against my pussy through our clothes—with each damnable step he takes.

Theos moves into the room and turns, the door swinging shut behind us, and then I find myself with my back pressed against it. My insides cramp and jolt, tightening and releasing in anticipation. When was the last time I did this? Have I ever done this without there being an ulterior motive? I’m sure I have, but I can’t think of it right now. I can’t think of anything but the man in front of me.

Slowly—with almost painful increments—Theos lowers his head. Down and down further still, his golden eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to look away. I don’t. Soft lips touch my flesh and finally, the spell of his gaze is broken. I arch up against him, pushing my hips out and down against him as I crane my neck. The back of my skull bumps into the wood of the door as Theos kisses the rapid beating pulse in my throat.

Breath after breath sears the inside of my mouth, coming up in hot panting waves. His tongue grazes my skin, moving up and licking the salty sweat that clings to me. I want to do the same to him too. Will he let me? I wonder. Only one way to find out.

Jerking my head down fast enough that he’s forced to pull away, I ignore the glower on his face and reach around the back of his head, fisting a handful of his hair the same way I had before. I bring him closer still and then kiss him. This kiss is anything but kind. It’s demanding, provoking, and—I hope—enough of what he needs to remember that I’m not the type of woman to be kept waiting.

I nip his lower lip, sinking my teeth into his Mortal God flesh and biting down to the point just before drawing blood once again. Deranged as Theos is, all that does is make him smile against me, wider and wider still. “So vicious,” he muses. “You’re more like a wild animal than a Divine worshiping Terra. Are you seeking pain or pleasure, Dea?”

“Both,” I say, releasing his lip. “And I won’t stand for you denying me either.” I rub myself against him, using the muscles in my hips and abdomen to undulate into his groin and the evidence of his own renewed arousal there. “You promised it wouldn’t be the end. So, what are you waiting for?”

“You should know what you’re getting into,” he replies, golden eyes darkening ever so slightly as his face grows serious.

I tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You got out of fucking Malachi,” he reminds me.

My eyes roll. “Is this about your stupid little bet?” I ask. “It’s been weeks, so I assumed you and your brothers had forgotten it—or at least that you didn’t want to be reminded that you’d been bested by a mere Terra.” The last two words come out sharper than I intended, perhaps inflamed by my own internal irritation at the subjugation I’ve been under since I arrived here.

Theos shakes his head once more. “That’s not what this is about,” he says, nodding down between us where our bodies are practically fused together. At least, as much as they can be without his cock in my cunt. “What you are, though, will affect you. If it becomes known that you’ve fucked me—”

The irony of his statement—what I am? It’s laughable, but with it, the memory of Rahela’s rage and my near drowning in one of the courtyards specifically for Mortal Gods comes back to me. “There are those who already assume I’m fucking you,” I tell him. There are likely many others who assume I’m fucking all of them. “What does it matter if I actually do it or not?” In fact, if I’m going to be accused of something and attacked for it the way Rahela had, then I’d much rather at least get the pleasure of actually doing it.

I’ve never known another man presented with sex to talk so damned much. Theos, despite his reputation around the Academy—and from what I’ve garnered from Niall’s impressive ability to befriend literally everyone and therefore pick up tidbits of information, it is a very notorious and salacious reputation—is a chatterbox. It makes me want to lower my legs, yank him over to the four-poster bed I see behind him, push him down, and rip his clothes off so that I can fuck myself on what I know will be an impressive cock, so I can at least find pleasure in his body if I must be forced to listen to this.

“You are intentionally misunderstanding me,” Theos growls, his voice deepening. One hand snaps up and grips me around my throat. My breath catches for a singular moment and my body locks down as I fight back the training that urges me to free myself from the hold. To my shock, however, as I let Theos hold me in such a way, embers of anticipatory pleasure flame to life within my body, spreading from my chest down to my pussy. Never knew I’d be so aroused by a man’s hand around my throat, but here we are.

I arch against him once more. “And you are stalling,” I snap back. “If you don’t want to fuck me, fine. Let me go so I can go find someone else to take care of this ache.”

Glimmering gold eyes flash black in an instant. Theos’ entire body stills and grows so rigid that I don’t even feel him breathe, but he must be because he’s still able to speak. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Warning bells are ringing through my head, but I ignore them. “I said—if you don’t want to fuck me then let me go so that I can go find someone who will,” I repeat.

The words seem to have the same effect as waving a big juicy steak in front of a starving man. As hard-pressed as I am against the door, I didn’t know it was possible to feel as though the scant distance between Theos and I could be closed in less than an instant. I don’t see him move. I don’t even hardly feel it before he’s simply there. All over me. All around me.

His scent permeates the very air that I breathe. Theos spins away from the door, and I twist my ankles together at the small of his back, locking onto him as he strides the rest of the way across the room to the bed I’d made dozens of times before. Who knew when I first stepped into the Darkhavens’ world that I would somehow end up here?

As always, the small kernel of guilt that he doesn’t truly know who I am, who he is sharing his flesh and bed with, penetrates through my skull as his mouth ravages mine. And, as I always have before, I shove it down—chaining it and locking it away in the furthest part of myself, hoping that one day, I’ll be able to lie with someone and not feel it ever again. For now, his kiss is enough. For now, his touch will make everything else fade away.

The sound of fabric rending startles me to a halt as fresh, cool air wafts over my newly revealed skin. Pushing my head back against the pillows, I glare up at the hulking figure above me. “Did you just rip my fucking shirt?” I snap.

Theos doesn’t answer, but then, he doesn’t have to. The evidence lays around me in tatters as he finishes the task of stripping it off of me. I gasp and arch as his head dips down and he licks a path across my ribs, right beneath where the strap of my chest bindings stretches.

“No corset?” he murmurs against my skin.

My hands sink into his hair as he kisses my skin again. Little pops of fire and bursts of heat creep up along my flesh with every single one. “You can’t … wear a corset under a tunic,” I murmur. Not exactly true, but corsets are uncomfortable and stifling. I can’t move as fast as I need or want to with them on. I can’t bend properly and I certainly have no need for the use they do to a woman’s figure. So binding my chest enough to keep my breasts contained is all that’s needed.

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