Page 77 of Pain

Licking my lips, I narrowed my gaze. “Your Queen commands you both to remove your shirts.”

They both smirked, but without a word, complied.

“Your turn,” Maxar said, tossing his shirt to the side.

I scoffed. “Nice try.”

“Now what?” Zandren asked, a very obvious bulge in his gray trousers. There was apprehension in his eyes though. He was intrigued and turned on, but also a little unsure of the trajectory of this all.

To be honest, I had no idea where we were headed either. All I knew was that I found this fun, and I was turned on. It was a great stress release, a great way to relieve the pent-up anger I harbored toward Drak and all the secrets he had kept and continued to keep from me.

I moved the sword back and forth in front of me, gold and pink flames dancing and flickering up the length of it. “We’re not done yet.”

Maxar’s grin was mischievous and sent a tingle of desire all the way from my breasts, down between my legs. He glanced at Zandren, still smiling, “I’m not sure about you, mate, but I’d say we’re just getting started.” Then, without warning, he charged me again, shooting little yellow flame-balls out of his palms. A few hit me, but they carried no more pain than if I’d been struck by a paintball. I kind of liked the pain. It made me feel alive. And I quite liked the bloom of pleasurable heat that rushed to the spot where I was hit.

I was inclined to just lay back, spread my legs, and command him to shoot more of those little, yellow fire balls at me.Ten points if he got it in the hole!

While I was busy fending off Maxar, I spotted Zandren out of the corner of my eye creep around behind me, attempting another sneak attack from the back.

He hadn’t shifted yet when we’d sparred, but he also didn’t think I needed to learn how to spar with a shifted shifter. Maybe one day he’d let me fight his bear.

The rush of air and the vibration of his footsteps on the ground had me whipping around and ducking just before he was able to grab me. I swept my foot out to knock him off balance, but he was only down for half a second before his muscles contracted and he bounced back up to his feet.

I had to say, watching my mates, all sweaty and ripped with their bunchingand flexing muscles was such an aphrodisiac, a stiff wind between my legs with my pants down and I’d probably reach Valhalla.

Zandren came at me again, and I was forced to drop my sword to block his punches and jabs. He landed an uppercut into my stomach that knocked the wind out of me, and the remorse in his eyes when he knew he’d hurt me almost made me falter and reassure him that I was okay. But I couldn’t lose focus. This was a battle. This was training. This was also really fucking hot.

He came at me again with another punch, which I blocked, then I managed to land a right hook across his jaw. But I think more pain exploded through me than it did him. My fist throbbed.

“Untuck your thumb, Little One,” he said, barely out of breath. “Otherwise, you could break your thumb when you punch like that.”

Nodding, I did what he said, did a little leap and spin, and punched him—with my thumb on the outside of my fist—right in the kidney. He went down like a cedar after a family of beavers ate their fill.

Timmmmmmbeerrrrr!

The ground shook as he collapsed, groaning in pain.

I wasted no time though, and grabbed his arms, then did my best to conjure a flame-rope, which I wrapped around his wrists. I wasn’t sure how strong the rope was, or how well it would hold—it seemed pretty flimsy—but at least I managed to make one this time.

I was just climbing off Zandren when Maxar came at me again, sweeping my feet out from under me with a yellow flame-whip.

I fell to the ground on my back with anoof, right beside a groaning Zandren. The whip came at me with a sharpcrackand wrapped with lightning speed around my wrist. Maxar yanked on it hard, lifting my hand into the air. He approached and bound my wrists together with a flaming rope of his own, a triumphant smile only growing wider and wider on his handsome face.

I glanced at Zandren, who seemed to be waving the white flag. His sweaty, muscular back rose and fell rapidly. “I think we’ve been bested.”

That made my bear smile. “Only person I’m okay with besting me is you, Little One. No ego bruised here.”

“I’d kiss you if I could.” I blew him a kiss instead.

Maxar placed a foot gently on my stomach, then stared down at me. “I declare Maxar Rane, fire mage and consort to the Queen—the winner!” Then he made a loud, breathy, “Ahhhhh,” sound to imitate a roaring crowd. “And the crowd cheers.‘Maxar! Maxar! Maxar!’”

I smirked and rolled my eyes. “Your ego is so healthy.”

He beamed down at me. “God, you look sexy all trussed up like that.”

I bit my lip while my pussy throbbed. “What would the victor like as his reward?”

Maxar’s pupils grew wide, the black invading the beautiful amber and honey color. He pulled me up to sit by grabbing onto my bindings, then helped me to my knees so I was kneeling. He yanked down his dumbass genie pants, pulled his erection out, and reached for the back of my head, guiding me forward. “Be a good little demon and suck your mate’s cock, hmm?”

---