Page 103 of Gods of Prey
I follow her to the window, wrapping my arms around her from behind. Below us, Umbraeth spreads in all its dark glory. Not the terrifying underworld mortals imagine, but a realm of peaceful rest and gentle transitions. Souls move through the landscape like wisps of light, guided by our servants toward whatever comes next.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask softly, my lips near her ear. “Choosing this instead of ruling alone?”
She leans back against my chest, and I feel the tension leave her body. “Never. Do you regret leaving Aurelys?”
“Aurelys is in good hands with Sebastian. Besides,” I press a kiss to the side of her neck, “I was growing tired of all that sunlight. I found something better.”
She turns in my arms, and the look in her eyes makes my divine heart race. “Did you?”
“I found my match,” I whisper against her lips. “My equal. My other half.”
“Revel,” she breathes, and then she’s kissing me with centuries of pent-up desire and newfound freedom. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I lift her easily, her form solid and warm in my arms.
“The throne room isn’t exactly private,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“No, it’s not,” I agree, lifting her by her thighs to carry her over to her throne. Once I gently set her down onto the soft leather seat, I drop to my knees and push her thighs apart to make room for my shoulders. “But I don’t really care. Let all of Umbraeth know I’m fucking you. That you belong to me, and me only. My goddess.”
Her black dress disappears in an inky cloud of smoke, revealing her glistening center.
Our throne room reflects both of us—my love of living things and her affinity for elegant darkness. Flowering vines twist around obsidian pillars, and silver moonlight filters through windows that show different views depending on our moods. Tonight, they reveal a garden where luminous flowers bloom in eternal twilight.
I lean back on my heels and take a moment to just look at her. White, wavy hair falls around her shoulders, her skin glows with inner light, and when she smiles at me like this—soft and trusting and full of love—I can barely believe she’s mine.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, reaching forward to trace her fingers along my jaw.
“I’m thinking,” I say, catching her hand and pressing it flat against my chest, “that we’ve waited long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
Instead of answering with words, I kiss her again, pouring everything I feel into the connection between us. Love, desire, gratitude, wonder—all of it flows between us as naturally as the cosmic forces we govern.
She responds with equal passion, her divine nature calling to mine. A whimper sounds in her throat when I pull away, leaving a trail of kisses as I make my way down her naked torso. When I reach the apex between her thighs, I wrap my palms around each one and pull them apart, making enough room for my shoulders.
I blow a cool breath across her pussy, chuckling when her fingers dig into my scalp, urging me forward. Flattening my tongue, I run it across her waiting center, lapping up every drop of arousal before I suck her clit into my mouth. She squirms beneath me, bucking her hips forward to give me easier access. When I slide a single finger in, she groans her approval. Then, I add another, and her breathing picks up as I pump them in and out of her, working the soft bundle of nerves with my tongue. Almost too soon, she falls apart beneath my touch, and I lap upevery drop of arousal she leaves behind before climbing to my feet.
She captures my mouth into a sloppy kiss, then tries to pull away too quickly. I wrap my palm around the front of her throat to hold her in place, shoving my tongue deep inside her mouth. There’s something so addictive about dominating the embodiment of Death—of holding power over such a formidable being. She hands it over reluctantly, never one to fully submit the way I wish she would.
We take turns with control, neither one willing to give it up one hundred percent of the time. There are instances where she has me on my knees, begging her for mercy. Other times, I push beyond all her boundaries until she’s teetering on the edge of madness.
When I’m finished with her mouth, I grab her hips and spin her around on the throne, positioning each knee on the arm rests to give myself open access. Rubbing my erection against the soft, white skin of her behind, I lean forward until my lips brush against the shell of her ear.
“Are you ready for me, goddess?” I ask, noting how wet she’s already gotten against my cock.
She whimpers, and I take that as her answer. I line myself up with her center and grab hold of her hips. In one long stride, I push inside of her until our bodies are completely flush and there’s no place left to go, then slowly, torturously, pull back. She fights against my grip on her, circling her hips in an attempt to control the speed, but I’m not budging.
A frustrated growl reverberates off the walls of the throne room when she twists her head back to glare at me. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve done enough commanding today. Relax and let me handle things for you.”
I can tell she wants to argue with me more, but she bites her tongue. I watch her shoulders lift as she inhales a large breath, then releases it in one smooth motion. Her body relaxes against me, her hips going lax in my hands. When I’m sure she won’t fight me anymore, I push myself back inside, then fall into the quick rhythm I know she likes.
When we come together, it’s not just physical—it’s spiritual, elemental, a joining that sends ripples through the very fabric of our realm. Outside, I can sense the shadows growing deeper and more welcoming, the boundary between life and death becoming softer, more beautiful.
She comes around my cock with a howl that I’m positive can be heard all the way through Nocthollow, and I spill my orgasm inside of her shortly after. As soon as I pull out, I lift her into my arms and carry her into our private quarters, settling her onto the bed to start all over again.
Later, as we lie entwined on sheets that shimmer like starlight, Sienna traces patterns on my chest with her fingertip.
“The council was right about one thing,” she says thoughtfully.
