Page 41 of The Salvation

“Merikh!” she dares to yell while I torment her. “If you don’t take Mayce with you, I swear on your fucking Howle name, I’ll?—”

“Careful, little dove,” I warn and scrape my fangs along the side of her neck, pricking her skin.

“Big bad horrifying dark vampire. I’ve fucking gone to death and back for my monsters. I’ve carried and birthed your child. I’m more monstrous than all of you. And if the both of you don’t come back to me, if anything happens to either of you, I’ll make all your lives a living hell! Punish me however you want. But. Fucking. Take. Mayce. With. You.”

I drop my pen. Lift my hand and fist her hair. Yank her neck back to present her throat. And before she can get out so much as a whimper, I sink my fangs into her jugular. Injecting my venom and channeling my power, I warm her blood to the boiling point and surge the waves of her orgasm. I feast upon her blood and thrill in her spiraling heart rate.

Her scream echoes in my ears. She clamps all around my fingers, strangling them with her muscles, drowning them with her hot fluids. I send another wave surging through her, breaking through her body, shuddering her core. And another. I strike her with my power, forcing her into another blissful rapture.

Watching her fall apart...it’s the edge I need for tonight. Because if there’s one thing I know about her, she will fulfill her promise. She is not the same timid ghostly girl who stood before our court and shed her clothes with trembling fingers. Quintessa is a woman. The mother of our child. And our goddamned Queen who has ended three curses and broken the fourth.

After I force her tenth climax until she’s nearly ready to pass out, I unleash my cock, shoot my release onto her hot pussy and ripe little thighs, and growl, “I’ll take the fucking Fae.”

She collapses against me, heaving frenzied gasps. I screw my brows low as she wriggles her body until she’s facing me, her plump little tits pressed against my chest. Her eyes are glassy with her pleasure, her swollen lips parted. I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes in suspicion until she lowers herself.

Fucking goddamned Kronos! She takes the base of my cock in her dainty hands, then seals her mouth to the cross-adorned crown. And though I can induce my own fucking release, I give her the credit, the honor of sucking me, gripping her head, and forcing her down until I discharge my seed down her tight little throat.

She crawls up me and straddles her naked little body around mine, winding her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Merikh. Will you...will you answer one more question for me? Please? Master, please?”

Fuck, I can’t say no when she lays it on that fucking thick. Nor when she looks at me like I’m her blood fucking moon. So, I sigh, tighten my wings, and wave a hand in gesture for her to speak.

She purses her lips, squeezing her eyes, then opening them to level with me. “Bartie...he told me things.”

“What things?”

“Nothing too specific. Nothing that would betray confidences. Just some history about the Court of Hollows, including your history. Things that are probably common knowledge, but I didn’t know them. Merikh, I just need to know. Because Malach?—”

I slam my hand down on her mouth, open my lips in a silent snarl, and shake my head firmly. “You will not speak his name. You will never speak his name, Quintessa. It would be nothing less than a desecration of your beautiful lips to speak it. If you ever dare to say his name, I won’t hesitate to whip you so hard,I’ll bloody every last trace of your skin and ensure your heart keeps pumping the whole fucking time. Do I make myself clear?”

Eyes wide, she nods frantically. After leveling with her, I finally remove my hand and nod firmly, permitting her to continue.

“I’m...” She pauses, sucks in a deep breath, and through tears, through fucking tears, she continues, “I’m a blood-binder, Merikh. Is that...is that why you hate me? Because I come...from...him?”

I blink. Once. Just fucking once.

Every cell in my being, every fiber of my divine-stolen alchemy, every fraction of my goddamned soul howls with violent wrath at her abominable, outrageous, and monstrous belief that I could ever, in ten thousand lifetimes, hate her. Not when she’s the very air I breathe. Not when she’s the only reason I’m treading water and naked in the fucking dark. Not when her scars will bring me my salvation.

So, I deadpan. And growl. “Turn around, Quintessa. And bend the fuck over my desk. Nothing will save your ass tonight. I’m going to bloody it so fucking hard with my belt, you will forget every word of the question you just asked.”

I watchmy brothers say their brief goodbyes as we prepare to set out.

“Oh...um, Bartie,” Quintessa addresses my steward, handing him Aislynn, who flutters her wings, twitching their tips as she blinks up at him. “Could you hold her for a minute? Please?”

Bo drops his jaw, his eyes widening in shock before he sweeps them to me. “Lord Merikh, I’m your steward, not a babysitter.”

“You could be demoted to the position of skull-cleaner, Bo. Or perhaps Sea of Bones cleanup duty,” I add with a low growl, but my hint of a smirk is enough for him to know I’m not serious.

“What if I burn her? I’m a fire-binder, my Lady,” he tries to dissuade her, but my little dove is already placing the babe in his arms.

“And one of her fathers is the God of Fire. She’s part dragon,” she clarifies, beaming at Bo, whose anxiety is heightened enough for him to shed a few embers and an occasional spark from his cheeks.

At first, he stiffens, but Aislynn brushes the edges of her feathery wings along the sides of his face. Her little hands reach up, hoping to catch his stray embers. She gurgles with a newborn laugh when he sparks more, a sign of how she’s captivated him. I knew it wouldn’t take long before he was rocking Aislynn and sweet-talking her.

Quintessa’s giggles divert my attention, and I roll my eyes at Drago opening his mouth on her neck, scratching and tickling her with his beard while muttering something about his two dicks.

Mayce, in contrast, nudges her chin up with his thumb and lowers his head to give her a sultry kiss. But once he palms her backside and hears her pained moan, he pauses. The Fae turns to me and brandishes a weaponized expression. I steel my jaw and deadpan. No regrets. I fulfilled my word to bloody her ass, stemmed the blood, gave her another mind-altering orgasm, and let her go with the worst welts she’s taken upon her flesh.

I’ll not heal them. She will wear them for the next two weeks at the least. Anytime she winces when trying to sit, brushes her bottom against something, or so much as rolls over in hersleep, she will know to never ask, much less believe, I could ever associate her with the wordhatred.

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