Page 61 of Hell's Secret Omega

Mezor wades through the haze of sex to capture his words. “One more night,” he repeats dumbly.

“Please.” Cyrus shivers as Mezor swipes his tongue across the tempting package right above his mouth.

He squirms away, turning to ease himself down Mezor’s body. Every brush of his skin makes Mezor’s cock pump with a need to bury itself in his vergis.Make him mine. Claim his clever mind, his mischievous tongue, his pride, his heart.His pseudo-knot throbs, threatening to burst into a full knot. It’s harder and harder to hold back. Mezor tries to collect himself.

It’s impossible to know how long the niads have been searching. What he didn’t tell Cyrus is that if Leuther is smart, he will have trained them on things stolen from Cyrus’s ruined nest. Magnus’s lieutenant, spy for the Grey Company, appointed by the King—Leuther will have put the pieces together and realized Cyrus must be under the King’s domain. Now he hopes Cyrus will lead him to the King.

The grotto is where Cyrus feels safe now. Mezor told him he’d be safe here and he believed it. But its sanctuary was always an illusion, and now he must break it, before it’s too late.

Before Cyrus’s mouth closes around his throbbing tip, he winds his claws into the little demon’s hair and tugs his head back to lift his eyes.

“One night. Then we go to the wilds. From there, to the King.”

Cyrus swallows him down without another word, eyes drifting shut as his throat slowly works to accommodate Mezor’s girth. His claws prick Mezor’s hips in gentle rebuke, the two delicious sensations turning his primus brain to other things against his will. He shudders, stroking Cyrus’s cheek.

“My bright flame. So brave. So hungry for my seed.”

Cyrus moans, and Mezor bursts with pleasure, coming down his throat and across his upturned face with an ecstatic sigh. The bond thrums.

Cyrus falls asleep in the cradle of Mezor’s bicep, his face troubled. Dreams filter through the bond in faint flickers of emotion. He longs to know what future Cyrus sees when he sleeps, but he’s afraid to ask. Their time is limited.Histime is limited. It is the contract he agreed to, the price for saving his home. But it makes every moment and every touch, every gasphe can pull from Cyrus, every shy smile, every laugh, that much more precious.

He drifts into a meditative state and their heartbeats sync as one. Thoughts turn to susurrations, then to silence.

The clatter of rock pulls him back to himself. He jerks, heart suddenly pounding.Did I…sleep?

A burst of fresh sound erupts over the cottage. Something hits the roof. Cyrus stirs awake and is upright in a second.

“Demons?” he says hoarsely.

Mezor frowns. Light stirs across his chest, the markings betraying his emotions as always. “Get your clothes.”

He exits the nest first. Cyrus scrambles behind him, pulling on his filthy coat and pants. There’s fear in his eyes. Mezor grabs the bow from the table as more thumps come from above. There’s a crack and thatch showers down on them. Then resounding thunder. A great serpent slams through the roof of the cottage, sending wood flying. Its body whips back and forth in confusion, so huge it seems to fill the whole space.

Cyrus stumbles out of the bedroom, his face ashen. The serpent’s tail slams into the wall and more rubble tumbles from the rafters.

“Get outside!” Mezor barks.

They duck under the collapsing lintel. Outside in the grotto there’s chaos. Serpents writhe across the walls, sending stones tumbling—he counts half a dozen, each with a body nearly half as long as the grotto itself. Chains trail from their legs, rattling over the rock. Enraged and confused, they’re wreaking havoc.

“It’s Magnus!” Cyrus cries. “They’re his beasts.”

Shit. On the other side of the grotto, water pours from deep cracks in the rock.That’s not normal.Damage from serpents is one thing, but there shouldn’t be water behind that wall…unless something’s happened in the tunnels above.

Cyrus yelps as a serpent tail flies over their heads, barely missing them. “They’re starving—they’ll eat through this whole place. What do we do?”

The serpents are already biting the rock, shaking loose more stones—some as big as boulders. Mezor swings his bow off his back.

“Go back to the Court and hide. Get somewhere safe. I’ll find you.”

“I won’t leave you,” Cyrus protests.

Another thunderous crack interrupts him. Mezor turns to see the cottage crumble. The serpent twists in the wreckage, trying to devour the rubble even as the walls collapse in on it. A wild, bitten-off cry bursts out of Cyrus, sending a dagger through Mezor’s heart.

His nest.

The serpent’s head turns, one eye catching on them. Mezor pulls Cyrus in tight and gathers the shadows to him, briefly wreathing them in darkness. “Straight ahead,” he murmurs in Cyrus’s ear. “That’s the exit. Go!”

“Find me,” Cyrus hisses, gripping him briefly, nothing but a blur of silver and black. Then he’s gone.

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