Page 32 of Angel of Ruin

"Please," I beg, my voice barely a whisper. "Fuck me, Sariel."

He growls, a low, primal sound that makes my pussy clench. His hands move to my hips, gripping them tightly. He starts to move, thrusting up into me with a force that steals my breath.

I cling to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I meet each of his thrusts with my own desperate movements. Ican feel the pleasure building, coiling tightly in my core. Sariel's grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh as he drives into me with a relentless pace.

"Come with me, little nexari," he demands, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel you come around my cock."

His words push me over the edge. I cry out, my body convulsing as pleasure crashes through me. I can feel him coming too, his cock pulsing inside me as he finds his own release. We cling to each other, our bodies shaking with the force of our shared climax.

I collapse onto his chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Sariel's arms wrap around me, holding me close as our hearts pound in sync. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear.

Instantly, the world tries to press in. Confusion threatens to tear the peace from my mind, anger threatens to heat my veins. There are hundreds of reasons I shouldn't be here with Sariel — with a xaphan — right now, but I don't care.

For one fucking second, I'm going to ignore them.

16

LYRA

Ilie still, my body pressed against Sariel's, listening to his breathing slow and deepen. Once I'm sure he's asleep, I carefully extricate myself from his arms and slip out of bed. My muscles ache as I move, a reminder of our passionate encounter.

Silently, I gather my clothes and dress, my eyes never leaving Sariel's sleeping form. He looks almost peaceful, his usually stern face relaxed in slumber. I push away the confusing mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm me and focus on getting back to my room unnoticed.

I crack open the door, peering into the dimly lit hallway. Seeing it's clear, I step out and gently close the door behind me. As I turn to leave, voices drift from around the corner. I freeze, recognizing the cold, clipped tones of the xaphan overseers.

"The humans are progressing further than anticipated," one says, frustration evident in his voice.

"Relax, Raxis," another responds, sounding amused. "You know as well as I do that none of them will actually succeed."

I press myself against the wall, straining to hear more.

"Of course not," Raxis scoffs. "But the whole point of these trials is entertainment. If we kill them all too quickly, where's the fun in that?"

"True," the other agrees. "The demons are already placing bets on which humans will die next. We can't disappoint those bloodthirsty bastards, can we?"

My blood runs cold as I listen, their cruel laughter echoing in the empty corridor.

"Remember," a third voice, a woman, chimes in, "our orders were clear. We need to let at least some of them think they have a chance, right up until the final trial. Then we crush their hopes in the most spectacular way possible."

"Ah yes, the grand finale," Raxis chuckles. "I almost feel sorry for the poor fools. Almost."

"They're just humans," the second voice dismisses. "Playthings for our amusement. Better they die here, providing us with entertainment, than continue their miserable lives in poverty."

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Everything I've been working for, everything I've sacrificed – it's all been for nothing. The trials were never meant to give us wings. We're just pawns in their cruel game.

I can't win. I can't even fail…

My only option is death.

As their voices fade, I slump against the wall, my mind reeling from what I've just heard. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I can't afford to break down here, not where I might be discovered.

I stumble back to my room in a daze, my mind racing with the terrible truth I've just uncovered. The trials, our only hope for a better life, are nothing but a cruel joke. We're being set up to fail, to die for the entertainment of the xaphan and demons.

As I collapse onto my bed, a new, horrifying thought strikes me. Sariel. Is he part of this? Has he known all along that we never stood a chance?

I think back to our encounters, the way he's pushed me harder than any other candidate. Was that really to prepare me, or was he just prolonging my suffering for his own amusement? The memory of his touch, still fresh on my skin, makes me feel sick.

But then I remember the look in his eyes when he saved me from falling, the gentleness in his touch that seemed at odds with his usual demeanor. Could he really be that good of an actor?

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