Page 109 of Magic of the Damned

“Luna!” Anand’s powerful boom filled the room. My head snapped up. His cherubic looks were darkened by his sharp, savage eyes and scowl. Gulping a sigh, I plopped onto the desk chair, folded my arms on the table, and rested my face in the crook of it. Despite Dominic not being here, his scent wafted throughout the room. There was the tinge of magical energy drifting from either the orb or knife. They were all reminders of Dominic and the violence I had witnessed and that I had no means of escaping from. Tense silence stretched along with my patience. I was desperate to go home.

“He killed his father,” I whispered, my words muffled. Dominic saying he would, and Dominic actually doing it were entirely different and difficult for me to comprehend. Murder was an abstract idea in my mind. How many times are idle threats of murder made? “You took the last piece of cake, I’m going to kill you.” “She spilled wine on my white shirt, I wanted to kill her.” “My dad’s an inhumane monster of the underworld and I’m going to kill him and take his position.” He said it and did it.

“He’s not dead,” Anand assured me. My head snapped up. Blatant lies from the lips of the seraphic man who was brutally honest was something else to add to the long list of things that were terribly wrong with this world.

I scoffed. “Have my eyes deceived me? I didn’t see him stab his father in the stomach with his claws and perform a spell to prevent Areleus healing himself? How will he survive that?”

“I saw the same thing. I’ve seen their fights many times.”

“I’m sure it was nothing like this,” I asserted. No one could live with each other and show any semblance of decorum after engaging in such a ruthless battle. Not people like them. I distinctly remembered Areleus saying he’d never fall prey to Dominic restricting his magic in the manner that Helena had because he knew it would be his demise.

“Not quite,” he admitted. His honey-laden voice felt like a trap, lulling me into complacency or acceptance of customs that no ordinary person should accept, but I refused be lured.

“Explain?” I asked, fatigue and doubt heavy in my voice.

He shoved his fingers into his hair, drawing my attention to his scar and his hazel eyes with the hues of green and secrets. With a look of introspection, he took an exceptionally long time before speaking.

“Sometimes, Dominic’s softness is his weakness.”

Great, we’re just throwing away definitions to words now. Why not? Webster is now allowing ‘irregardless’ to be an acceptable way of saying ‘regardless’ and ‘softness’ can mean whatever the hell we want it to mean. A small smile flitted over his lips. He was definitely getting an idea of what was going through my mind because I wasn’t making any effort to hide it.

“I know it’s hard to understand. Yes, Dominic can be cruel and ruthless when necessary. He has no qualms about making a lasting statement—for an advantage. Luna, it is pertinent that you understand when it comes to dealing with his father and people like him, there’s no alternative method. He must present his worst self. Nothing else will do. Areleus is his father, despite Dominic’s dislike of him. With all his abilities to be pitiless, he’s yet to pull from that well of cruelty and untethered violence to dethrone him. He says he will when it is crucial. It’s been crucial for a while.”

“He did today.”

He shook his head. “He won’t let him die. This was a statement. He’s proven to his father that he is capable of taking the throne. He’s allowing him the dignity of relinquishing it.”

Dominic entered the room. Anand didn’t seem surprised by his presence, although I was. Disheveled hair, shirt splattered with blood, and a vestige of unbridled violence-lust fueling his movements, nothing about this man hinted at kindness that would allow clemency.

“He lives?” Anand posed it as a question, but it had the undercurrent of a statement.

Dominic’s head barely moved into the nod as he kept an unwavering eye on me.

“I need to change clothes,” Dominic announced, backing out of the room. He stopped at the threshold. “Luna?” An invitation I ignored. His brow hitched, eyes smoldering and dark. He called my name with even more command.

“Go change then?”

His jaw worked from side to side and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. No, a challenge.

I stood, meeting the challenge. The weight on my leg sent a shot of pain through me. I was getting less convinced it was a strain.

“Now, Luna.” His request was clipped, cutting his demand off abruptly. A reminder of him saying that he wasn’t used to asking for permission to use his magic. He wasn’t accustomed to being challenged often, either. He inhaled a breath. “I’m assuming you are here to do the spell. If we end up at your home or seen by others, is this the appearance you wish them to see?”

Looking down, I saw that my appearance definitely mirrored the shambled way I felt. Blood was smeared on my shirt and arms everywhere I’d touched after pulling the glass from my leg. Nodding in agreement, I sucked in a breath to prepare for the pain of walking. My gut clenched with each step and I could no longer hide the signs of pain as I made my way to him. He held my gaze as he lowered to kneel, his finger gliding over my leg. A menthol coolness laced me, chasing away the sharp ache in my leg and ankle. Tissue felt like it was meshing in healing while I was being ensorcelled by the comforting scent of lavender and giving in to the soothing effect of his magic.

“Ready?” he asked, standing. I didn’t miss the reluctant anguish in his voice. He wasn’t as apathetic about what happened between him and his father as he wanted us to believe.

Removing his clothing as soon as he crossed the threshold, naked, he carried the bundle to the bathroom. The shower started to run moments later. He returned to the doorway and my eyes took in every inch of him, especially his impressive length that invoked a need to feel him inside me.

“Will you be joining me?” He gave me a sensual look that promised more than just a shower but an escape from reality as he explored my body and sated those rampant emotions that brewed in him. It showed in his face, his stance, and the way he looked at me.

“I should decline,” I said, finding that miniscule amount of pragmatism that remained.

“Are you going to?”

Not at all. Following his example, I slipped off my clothing. Grabbing the armful of tattered and stained clothing, I dropped them on top of his pile of clothes and followed him to the steamy shower. He pulled me into the stall, pressing me against the wall, using the excuse of bathing me to lather me, trailing over each part of my body where the water hit with kisses and laves of his tongue. His fingers slipped into me to gather the wetness between my legs, stroking and teasing me till I reached a shuddering climax. His tongue speared my mouth with a ravenous longing. I took his silky hardness into my hand, husky ragged breaths filling the space as I stroked him. Going to my knees, I ran my hands up the length of him, stroking him as I teased him with my mouth and tongue. His breaths became uncontrollably ragged, his fingers twining through my hair, tensing with pleasure. I could feel the restraint and the tension in his legs as he denied himself the pleasure. Gathering me in his arms, he lifted me and retreated to the bedroom. When he sheathed himself, I opened to him. A hungry desperation had him gyrating hard into me. I met his powerful greedy strokes with a shared frenzy to replace all the events of today with pleasure. Raw, untamed heat drove his movements. I felt a need that barely tolerated the absence of his cock when he rolled me to my stomach and reentered me. Positioning me to half kneel, he palmed my breast, teasing my nipple while his teeth nipped at my ear. Unspent chaotic magic curled around me in sync with his strokes. A beast prowled in Dominic that needed to be sated. I felt every primal part of him with every grind of his hips. My desperate moans increased as he caressed my breasts, tweaking the hardened nipples, and pressed hot kisses over my body. I felt devoured by each delicious stroke that ended with a shared explosion of satisfaction. I collapsed onto my stomach, his warm body covering mine.

He slipped out of me and I rolled to my side to face him. My body tingled with the memory of his touch. My finger traced over the sharp edges of his face, along the contours of his jawline, and his lips. He pressed a kiss to each finger and closed his eyes. Both of us were reluctant to move.

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