Page 56 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Legion’s grip tightens painfully on my arms. His erection digs into me so hard it hurts. I gasp at the flash of pain. Then Legion releases an arrogant snarl at Bodin’s challenge. Holding my breath, I half expect Legion’s hand to plunge between my thighs, to wet his own fingers, or for him to walk away stubbornly with nothing. It seems like something he would do. Instead, he grabs Bodin’s hand and leans over my shoulder to suck on his glistening thumb—the same one that worked me to climax.
Seeing Legion react to my taste is my new favorite thing. I watch, mesmerized, as he licks my arousal from Bodin—inches from my face. When he’s done, he draws back. Takes a moment to breathe through flared nostrils. Not the savoring Fox did, but a gathering of decorum. As if he’s about to lose all sense of control. Shadows hide my dark angel’s eyes, but then he moves to my side to show me his glare. But scowling eyes only make him look sexier.
“What?” I shrug innocently, my lips twitching in amusement.
“I’m unsure who has marked who now,” he grumbles.
“Does it matter?”
His lips curve, eyes knowing. “Calamity, indeed.”
My smile drops when Bodin’s shadows fall from around us and a path directly to Styx is revealed through the dancers. It’s as though swaying limbs synchronized to make way for this moment. Unmoving, he stares at me—atus—with a dead expression while two women paw and grind against his body like he’s covered with an aphrodisiac. One is a gorgeous, tall brunette wearing a sparkling negligee for a dress. The second is a redhead dressed in what seems to be pearlescent body paint. Iknow because every swipe of her hand and body leaves residue on Styx’s naked torso.
He glances between Bodin, Legion, and myself and then turns away, but not before I catch the flicker of pain in his eyes. Left out. Forgotten. Guilt slams into me hard as a wave of people hides him from view.
“Fuck,” Bodin frowns, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Legion answers with a growl of disapproval. “I forbade him.”
“Forbade him what?” I ask, heart racing, eyes searching among the shadowy, moving heads for another glimpse of Styx.
He hasn’t gone far but now has his tongue deep down a woman’s throat. The painted female still crowds him, her hands deep inside his pants. But it’s his posture that cuts me to the core. His shoulders are slumped and tense at once.
For a moment, I don’t see Styx. I see Fox feeding on Irisa. That moment on the sofa when his arms were spread wide along the backrest, and his head thrown back, staring at the sky, waiting for her to finish using his body for release. I see his shame because he thought feeding made him a monster. The act produces some kind of erotic byproduct that has their victims hardly knowing what’s happening as their souls are seduced out of their mouths. There is no other way to gain sustenance for Sluagh except to murder, and Fox never wanted me to see it—any of it.
I see red.
Fury burns the last vestiges of desire from my body. My feet are crossing the dancefloor before I can stop myself. I have no conscious thought driving my actions, only rage. Rage that the Six were created to feed like this. Rage that the act produces an aphrodisiac, forcing them to subject themselves to unwanted sexual advances.
“What is it, then?”I asked Fox.“What is true freedom for you?”
His sad eyes collided with mine.“Unconditional love.”
Two feet away from Styx, my rage erupts. I grab each female’s hair and yank backward, shrieking, “Get off him!”
I smash their heads together. Make their noses bleed. Someone shouts, “Fight!” and then pandemonium erupts.
Chapter 24
Willow
When I throw one woman into the crowd, the raised grass-covered dais becomes a battlefield. Heightened emotions flick from lust to anger as others join in.
I go for the brunette first. She’s fae. Magic makes her the most dangerous. She barely has a moment to breathe before I push my thumbs into her eye sockets. Her scream is lost to me. The roar of blood in my ears drowns out all sound. There is nothing but my fury and something else . . . something darker and horrid.
Someone behind me rips my hair. I twist, moving with predatory focus, pounding my fist into her throat to incapacitate her airways, then into her face for no other reason than I want to destroy every inch of it for daring to touch what is mine, for adding to the never-ending cycle of Styx’s shame, for giving him what I can’t.
Not just the sexual attention but the sustenance.
“He’s mine, bitch.” I pound and pound my fist into her face. He’s mymate.
Envy.
Tears burn my eyes. I hesitate, my fist hovering in the air, my lungs heaving as I straddle the groaning half-naked woman while a brawl rages around me.
Envy.
That’s the name of the darker, insidious feeling clawing my heart. I hate that my mates have to feed like this. I hate that it has to be with other females and never me. I want to be the only one who ever touches them this way.
