Page 22 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

For all we knew, this stubborn seed may have been blowing through the wasteland for centuries. Still, it might have some life in it yet. I couldn’t give up on something that had potential, especially when that something had brought my one true love back into my life.

12

Ash’ren

Iwoke in the tower. The smell of scorching flesh burned my nostrils. A steady clinking sound burrowed its way into my eardrums. Guards shouting euphemisms goaded me to pick up the chain.

“Damn fucking rings,” I muttered. I clenched my hands, raw from the poisonous treatment on the massive chain, knowing I had a full day of digging ahead. That’s if I was fortunate and they didn’t demand my hands to entertain them instead. “Damn Devil. Damn!”

A soft voice shattered my painful existence. A pliable body squished against me, soft fingers stroking my neck, worried kisses tracing my jaw.

“Ash’ren. I’m here.”

“You are,” I agreed. “But am I?”

“Let’s find out.”

I fought the urge to slap her away, lest she mar her beautiful skin. Soft as butterfly wings, light touches explored my burning skin. They traveled from my broken horn to my abdomen, caressing scars littering my body.

“Ash’ren,” she said tentatively. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

I rose to my elbow and shrugged. “Not much to say. Fisticuffs, bludgeons, all poisoned with dark magic like the chain. All the guards had something.”

“And what bollocks reason did they have to use them? Your magic was suppressed. Nothing required this severe of punishment.”

Her anger for me was adorable, and, speaking of bollocks, mine were getting a pleasantly rude awakening with her tits bouncing right in front of my face. The wrath on her cheeks leaked down her neck and painted her chest alluring shades of red. I palmed a cheek of her ass and rolled onto my back, so she lay on top of me. The bright color of her cheeks immediately seemed more fitting, but she pushed herself to her knees with a feisty little sneer. Like she had a fight to pick with me. I smirked, ready to take every punch.

“Don’t worry, princess. The scars will fade, and we can forget all that nonsense. Like it never happened.”

“Frozen rings,” she scoffed. She crossed her arms, fury haloing her like an aura. Her sunshine filled the room as she shot daggers down at me. “Bottling things up does not mean they never happened. You must talk to—unnf.”

I gripped her hips and wrenched her down onto my aching shaft, humping through our clothes until she lost balance. Her hands uncrossed and dropped to my chest, the ample swell of her bosom bouncing. Grinning wildly, I thrust again, watching rapt as her crimson cheeks darkened, her jaw hanging ajar, all but begging for a cock to shut her the fuck up.

“Ash’ren, this is—oooh—serious!”

“I’m very serious, Firefly.”

“Not—oooh—elements save me, Ash, this conversation is not over!”

“By all means, continue,” I teased. “I’m all ears.”

“No, you’re all cock,” she quipped, and I laughed so heartily that she slammed her hand over my mouth. “Shh!”

Right. It wasn’t as though I’d had to keep my laughter down in the tower. Here, firmly planted in reality, her flames-fucking suitor was in the next room.

My gaze fell to the golden door. She was mine, no matter how many had slept there over the years. My knot ached to breach her, my balls clenching at the thought of shooting seed so deep into her womb that we’d have a litter of half-human, half-demon pups in no time.

“Not much longer,” I ground out through clenched teeth, humping her harder but with less amiability. Nine years we’d been apart, but never had we loved each other freely. “I won’t stand in your suitors’ shadow much longer.”

“Not much longer,” she agreed, but she slid off me. “I promise.”

"And you?” I sat up in a huff. “How long will you remain in the shadows, Firefly?”

She shot a look over her shoulder as she fixed the straps on her clothing. “What? I’m in the firelight all the time. Literally. Always.”

“Yes,” I broached carefully. I swung my legs over the bed and pulled on my tunic, the fit tight on my muscles. I studiously fixed the laces on my trousers, rolling the perfectly unfrayed tip of string between my calloused fingers. “Yet, your light dims.”

In my peripheral, I saw her hesitate. Glancing up, our eyes met in the mirror, that stubborn spark of her light flaring to life. She would become angry, maybe raise her voice, or taunt me until we laughed. I would see that spark become a flame, as it had moments before when her delicate hands traced my scars. It was true she possessed no magic, but her inner flame was powerful enough to remake a kingdom.

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