Page 46 of No Greater Sorrow

She moved away so she could bury her face in her hands. It felt like the warmth had been sucked out of her. Even the ever-present feeling of a fire in her stomach was extinguished. She needed it back. She needed her anger—if she didn’t have that, she was empty. “Get on your knees, Nicolas. Show me how sorry you are,” she said as she lifted her head.

Aleja held his eyes when he looked at her in shock. They reflected the painting, nearly reaching the ultramarine blue of the Third’s realm. “Aleja?”

“You heard me, Knowing One. On your knees. Don’t make me say it again.”

She caught a glimpse of his dark grin as he sank to the marble floor in front of her. “Tell me what to do. I’ll beg, I’ll grovel,” he said.

“You’re going to use your mouth for something else.”

Aleja didn’t know what she wanted until his eyes widened in anticipation. As she undid the button of her pants, she used her bare left foot to push Nicolas down until his back hit the cold floor.

“This isn’t much of a punishment, dove,” Nicolas asked as she straddled him and scooted forward until her center was over his mouth. The wave of arousal was so instant that the sensation of his hair against her inner thighs was enough to make her tremble.

“Shut up and make me come, Knowing One.”

She sank lower, suddenly self-conscious. Aleja had never ridden a man like this before, but any concern she had about suffocating him was chased away when he gave a pleased moan and wrapped his hands around her hips to pull her closer.

Nicolas used his mouth like he was starved for her; the pressure of his tongue was maddening. With his hands gripping her in encouragement, she began moving like she was truly fucking his face, and he gave another groan. Aleja almost slipped, then. She almost pulled away from his mouth to position herself over the bulge in his trousers, but a whisper of her inner voice reminded her that Nicolas was supposed to be groveling.

“Does this make you hard, Knowing One?” she hissed, trying to force herself back from the edge of an orgasm.

“Yes,” he gasped, pulling away from her clit.

“Does it make you want to fuck me?”

“More than anything, dear Lady of Wrath. You’re all I see. You’re all I dream about. I ache when I’m not inside of you.”

“Too much talking.”

He took this to heart, burying his face between her legs again. It was only a few minutes before Aleja came, her thighs clenched around Nicolas’s head. A deep pulse throbbed inside her core, and she threw her head back as dizziness overtook her. Nicolas gave a heavy sigh, as if her climax affected him just as much.

When she sat back, she could feel his erection firm against her, and it took all the willpower she had to slide off his lap. Nicolas gave a frustrated huff but did not protest or try to stop her from leaving. He sat on the marble floor for a moment, lips glistening.

“Satisfied?”

“For now,” she said. There were more words left in her mouth—about penance, about forgiveness, about how she was angry with him, yes, because he had lied, but more so because he had the gall to do something that would take him away from her again. Fuckingagain. Every time he tried to protect her from himself, it tore them apart.

“Aleja?” He sat up. His hardness was still obvious, but the flush on his lips was fading.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nicolas opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking for a second before he spoke. “I’ll fix this, dove. I swear to you. Just give me time.”

“Goodnight, Nic,” she muttered, snatching up the mostly full bottle of champagne before she left the room. And unlike Orpheus, she made it out without glancing back. But she could picture Nicolas’s face as he watched her go, his silver eyes swimming with emotion, and behind him, an ultramarine backdrop resembling the world of the dead.

* * *

“You’re untrained.Nicolas let you talk your way onto this team because he’s physically incapable of saying no to you. This is a bad idea,” Orla said flatly. She wore her bright red hair in two braids wrapped over the top of her head and held together with gold twine that matched the studs in her ears.

“Thanks for your encouragement,” Aleja replied. In truth, Orla’s words stung less than the sight of Violet in a new set of armor. They’d mostly been able to avoid each other for the past twenty-four hours, but every thought she’d had yesterday was not about the dangerous mission she was about to embark on, but rather of Violet’s betrayal and the way Nicolas’s body had felt beneath hers.

“I’m not saying it to be cruel,” Orla said, unaware of the turmoil in Aleja’s head. “I’m saying it because I’ll be second-in-command on this mission. If I say run, you run. If I tell you to shoot fire, light them up.”

“If you despise us so much, why’d you come back?” Aleja asked. She couldn’t understand why she wanted Orla to like her so badly, especially since the Dark Saint of Envy appeared determined to keep her distance.

“Merit,” Orla finally said, looking her up and down.

“The Dark Saint of Sloth?”

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