Page 72 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

“Of course, we’re on the winning side, my dear. That devil will be in the dust swiftly.”

“How long do you think the battle will be? Want to take bets?”

“That wouldn’t be fair. And risky.”

The conversation seemed never-ending, as did Ash’ren’s enthusiastic seed. Everyone at this end of the table seemed tohave an opinion, and every reminder of Devil’s coming demise by his hand had Ash’ren emptying his load into my pussy until I felt full and had barely tasted breakfast.

By the time the nobles were filtering out of the hall, my head was dizzy from holding my breath. I smiled and waved, smiled and waved until the hall was empty. I ordered the servants out and waited for all the doors to be shut before exhaling.

“Fuck, Ash’ren!”

“I’m sorry, Firefly, I tried! I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

I groaned and draped over the table, gripping the edge of the other side. I lifted my bottom and slammed down, fucking myself on him with unrestrained fervor. “Not—oooh—your fault—oohh, rings!”

Ash’ren understood immediately. His hand came around and stroked my clit, my orgasm crashing over me in blinding waves.

39

Ash’ren

The day following our mishap on the throne was a blur of rushed plans and last-minute training. Though my trainees were not to fight unless engaged, they must be confident enough in their abilities to defend their loved ones if our ghost-rings ruse failed. In the evening, I visited Geysis and accepted her mana-stripping dagger, the twin of the one that had taken my horn. I did not sleep well that night.

Today was day three. As expected, a runner from the tower warned of Devil’s impending arrival.

The throne room was full of Devil’s ass-kissers. With an deadly calm akin to a gryffion before it goes in for the kill, I observed each noble that scrambled to make an appearance for Devil’s return.

Approaching a backward-facing chair with one long leap, I tipped it down. It clanged on the table, drawing everyone’s attention as I pushed off the ornate chair’s back and stepped onto the table.

“Out.”

No one moved. Fire tipped my claws, filled out my wing, and whipped from my tail, which I thumped hard against the table.

“Out!”

Nobles and servants sprinted for the exits.

I leaped to the floor and approached the dais, pausing at the burnished spot on the ground reserved for those petitioning the king, worn from all the knees that had kissed its surface.

I had begged Devil once.

It was his turn now.

Flexing my fists, I climbed the dais to lounge in Devil’s Bone Throne. This would be the first and last time I ever claimed what rightfully belonged to my Firefly.

For the first time in weeks, the ever-present numbers returned, loud as ever. Seventy-nine chairs at the four tables. Forty-six windows. Twelve side doors for servants. Twenty chandeliers of steel and bone. It was so familiar, waiting in this way. Waiting for destiny to reveal itself.

The difference was, I had a mind full of new memories that kept me centered. Waking snuggled against my Firefly, helping plait her hair in the morning instead of one last glimpse before slipping out the window. The way her ears tipped red when she had to speak publicly, though her voice was confident and steady. The same redness in her cheeks when I teased her, with words or my tongue. I even possessed memories with the people my actions had harmed, people I didn’t deserve the time of day from but who accepted me anyway. Like Kien, whose father was the closest thing I’d had to a friend during my banishment.

Through my rage, a calm inner flame didn’t waver in the wind but flickered along in a dance of acceptance. A well of power that I’d never known simmered within me. It was with this I would achieve what my Firefly asked of me, to stay my hand against my rightful death debt.

Chaos outside signaled the time had finally arrived. Devil’s loud, booming voice. Peals of anguish. Nobles and attendants claiming innocence, attempting to shout loud enough in warning that Devil might forgive their bystanding. They all had one thingin common, one phrase, one name that rushed from their lips on repeat.

The door clanged open. Devil entered, so aflame with blinding white fire that his body was hardly discernible beneath the flames.

“Youare this flame-fucking Ash Render I keep hearing about?” He cackled, the white-hot flames flaring high enough to rattle the bone chandeliers. “What the fuck are you doing in my seat, little prick?”

My lips ticked upward. “Now, don’t be so petty. It’s just a chair.”

---