Page 30 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
It’s such an unholy sight, but I can’t look away. Neither of them seems to mind my presence. They’re too busy with each other as he turns her body to drive into her sideways. I watch her futile attempts to escape the hold he has on her thigh.
“Tell me how that feels,” the dark-haired male leans in to whisper in her ear, angling his hips to grind deeper.
“It’s…so good,” the sultry reply from her comes in short gasps. “We have…company.”
“But you like that even better, don’t you? You naughty, naughty girl,” he says in a voice as smooth as velvet, as dark as sin.
A tortured moan escapes her lips when he grips her tail, slamming hard. Her spine arches as her entire body shudders with overwhelming pleasure. I swallow dryly, watching the aftermath of her orgasm wrecking through her.
I don’t know what finally snaps me from my trance, the roaring groan of his release or the sound of his balls slapping on her skin in that final thrust. Either way, I’m free now. I almost turn when my eyes suddenly lock with the beautiful blonde demon in her daze.
“Join us,” she says, reaching for me with her hand. Wispy tendrils of her power surround me, coaxing me to go to them.
Ummm…nope.
She tilts her head, confused.
“I said come to me,” she commands more forcefully.
Ribbons of her strange magic attempt to pull me again. I shrug it off as my eyes frantically look for an escape. The female demon shivers, staring at her hand.
“Silka, love?” the winged male asks breathlessly, his face taut with elated exhaustion.
“Something is wrong. It doesn’t work on her…” she mutters, shuddering with a mortified look on her face.
“There you are…” Ragnar says with a long exhale, appearing from the corridor.
“You know I love an audience, but must you bring an innocent elf?” the winged male says sweetly. The female quivers when he withdraws from her slowly, turning to face us. He iswithout a stitch on his body, completely on display for us but that fact doesn’t seem to bother him. “I thought I made it clear I will only entertain their queen.”
Ragnar stares at them without feeling. “This is Her Highness, Rhianelle Wiolant the Second, the Elven Queen of Aelfheim.”
The male’s dark eyes lock with mine. There is no introduction needed on his part. I know exactly who he is now. Tall and broad shouldered, Kheirall Balthazar is a demon with the face of an angel.
His eyes blink with surprise as he looks at me. I do my best imitation of Shade’s bored expression as I stare back at him. The muscles of his throat move as he breaks the gaze.
“Will you give me a chance to make myself proper?” he asks, tucking the thin membrane of his wings behind his back. I wonder if he can even fly with those flimsy things.
Ragnar pulls me to the next room, and I follow him without words. I expect him to say something about my trespassing, but he remains silent. The small chamber we enter is full of artifacts far more ancient than the ones before.
“This is the Demon Lord’s private collection from the Nightwalker’s era,” he explains, showing me around. “I thought you might like it since you followed the artwork of Giltar to Kheirall’s playroom.”
I smile and silently thank him for saving me from the awkwardness and bringing me here. I study the golden coins and medals on the mahogany table until a rare painting in a glass-covered case catches my eyes.
It’s a depiction of a woman strapped and suspended with ropes. Rows of string wrap around her erogenous areas as she hangs helplessly. The look of arousal on her face causes me to blush harder than the live event I just witnessed. But the main subject of the painting is really the creature behind her.
“Vampire, the true immortals,” Ragnar remarks, admiring the art with me.
“We have the twin to this painting in Aelfheim,” I mutter quietly. It’s kept in an underground vault away from public eyes because of its obscenity.
“That’s amazing to hear. There aren’t many items that survived the fall of their empire,” he says solemnly. “This is one of the Vampire Generals, Vaughn. His strength is said to have rivaled a Marquis of Hel.”
The information makes me shudder, but I love the passion in Ragnar’s voice and his vast knowledge.
“Some humans still worship the elves to this day for ridding the mortal world of the vampire’s infestation,” he continues.
“The elves may have claimed they’re the victor to that war, but the Nightwalker’s glorious reign didn’t end because of us. It crumbled because of a civil war between their princes,” I say, keeping my voice even.
Ragnar’s eyebrow raises in surprise. “It’s rare to meet someone from Aelfheim who knows the real history instead of the ones altered by your Elders.”
