Page 57 of The Salvation

Then, he licks his tongue along a blood trail and grips my engorged cock at the same time. Fucking claws sinking in to draw more blood. A groan of pain escapes my throat, but the claws retract.

“Mmm...such a pretty pet.” He releases me, and I can hear the sound of him sucking the blood from his fingers, the blood of my fucking length. He strokes my length firmly, kindling more heat to my groin. Then, he uses my own blood for lubricant, spreading it thickly around my asshole. “I’ll admit my approval, Merry. Others would have fainted by now. Or sunk into a torrent of useless pleas. You have exceeded my expectations. Let’s see how far you can go...”

And with that, Malachor drives his divine deity of a dick right through my anus, impaling, stretching, burying...and pounding.

Every night for the next hundred years, we learned just how far I could go...until I destroyed his cross, tore open his chest, ate the heart I never believed existed, and claimed my coffin.

On my first night as God of Blood, I didn’t destroy the coffin. I chained Kyan’s willing form to it, took a belt to his backside, and fucked him till Malachor’s name lost all power over me. Then, Shadow did the same to me.

20

"If you didn't want to contend with a monster, you shouldn't have given her claws..."

QUINTESSA

I feel lesslike a queen and more like some ghostly entity who has stepped out of the Veil of Souls for the first time in centuries.

One thing I love about my monstrous boys is how I can be a queen,theirqueen, and myself. First and foremost, I am theirs. And they are mine.

I also loved when they dressed me according to their culture. Drago gave me a bodice made of his scales. Kyan gave me gold and silk and feathers. Even with Mayce, I loved how he infused his magic onto my skin by emphasizing my tattoos and adding little roses budding along the swirling vines and a lotus flower to decorate my intimate regions. A crown from the Tree of Life herself was the greatest part of that night.

I didn’t know what to expect from Merikh. But not this...

The woman staring at me in my reflection looks like...she reminds me of...Qora.

Thick accents of kohl line my eyes, weaving velvety shadows around them with a sweep of scarlet-painted teardrops. Black rouge for my lips. The sheer swathes of red fabric do nothingto veil my body. Crimson ribbons thread through my hair, too many to count.

One thing I knew was how Merikh intended to robe me in the finest and most regal gowns in the Court of Hollows.

This is Reaver.

My hands tremble as I pick up the iron crown on the corner table and slowly place it on my head.

My reflection reminds me of some Queen of darkness and sin. A heaviness presses on my heart and thins the air in my lungs. Not the Queen of Fire, Air, Earth, and Blood. Not the Queen of the Monstrous Boys. And I am the furthest thing from Merikh’s little dove tonight. Even the rubies dangling from the crown onto my brow remind me of blood. And the decorative metallic claws tipping my fingers. Red and ornate.

All I know is the asshole does not intend for me to be some sacrificial lamb. Nor bait since he needs me for the Hollows. Fear shivers up my spine as my imagination runs wild with what he will do.

“Quite lovely indeed.”

I jerk at his voice and press my lips to a firm seam as Reaver’s reflection appears in the mirror.

“If hell is lovely,” I snipe, considering how I look more like some whore of hell.

“It is, in fact.” He crooks a smile, approaching me from behind. With every step, my spine grows tighter. “And fitting as I’ll bring a little devilish culture to the Court of Hollows tonight. They should be reminded of how things operated when Malachor reigned.”

“Power, blood, and unchecked death?” I mark his eyes, thinking they are too light brown for someone with a black heart like him.

“Of course, but you forgot lust,” he simpers, his eyes sweeping across my chest and descending far lower. I ball myhands into fists, bracing myself, but he casually folds his hands behind his back, lowering his chin, a curl dropping onto his cheek. “During the reign of the true God of Blood, none could contend with his Court. None ever dared challenge him, not even Kronos. He made no deals with other gods. He did not need alliances. Vampires were the elites and the most feared. Angels are divine, the Fae are proud, and Dragons are hotheaded and fierce, but all knew vampires bore the most power. I’ve spent far too long in the Underworld without a semblance of power to care about the consequences of bringing such power back to the world.”

“And you think a tyrant like Malachor will simply give you power?” I throw out, nearly spitting at his ego.

Reaver smirks and cups my chin, chuckling as he leans in. “While the Underworld does not grant access to the Hollows for its dwellers, it does provide a mirror. And perhaps, I spent a fair amount of time looking into that mirror and speaking with the monster on the other side. I am a key player in this game. As are you.

“You should know the most ancient prophecies testified that Malachor’s reign would last forever and transcend all others,” he tells me. “I am simply abiding by the law of fate. You have the same honor.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, my gaze flicking down briefly because he still hasn’t released my chin. But then, he taps my nose. “Once you get what I need to resurrect him, Your Highness, Malachor will end Kronos’ reign. Upon his ascension, my revenge and retribution for Merikh will be complete. Malachor will have the world. I will take the Waste. And whatever else the fuck I want.”

Burning my eyes against his, I open my mouth to protest. Reaver dives in. I’m too late to pull away before he presses his lips to mine, stabbing his tongue inside while forcing me up against the mirror. He’s just sliding his hand down my sternumwhen I reach up and scratch those metallic tips down his cheek, shedding blood.

He snarls, pulling away the second Merikh enters the room to see my frazzled state. And furious. His darkened gaze crosses to Reaver whose cheek drips with blood.

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