Page 122 of For the Love of the Gods

I moaned so loud the sound overpowered the sharp slap of water on the floor. I reached down in between us to wrap my hand around his length, relishing the way he jerked forward as my skin connected with his. “I want you.”

“Be more specific,” Dominic instructed and I slapped my hands on his shoulders, trying to get him to move. “Do you want me on my knees or do you want me buried deep inside you?”

“Inside,” I breathed, arching towards him.

I could feel Dominic’s smile against the shell of my ear. “Whatever you want, wife.”

He slid home, fast and all the way to the hilt, ripping a groan from my throat.

“You feel so good. So. Good.” Dominic punctuated the words with snaps of his hips, keeping me pinned against the wall at an angle that set my chest on fire with pleasure.

“Every time,” I agreed, the words coming out on a breathy moan.

Dominic kept a punishing pace, pressing me further into the wall so that he could move a hand in between my legs. My own hands were in his hair, pulling at the wet strands, begging for any type of purchase as my release crashed over me in waves, guided by the sweet praise Dominic whispered in my ear.

When he finished, my name on his tongue, we were breathing heavy, the steam thick around our spent bodies. Dominic cleaned us both, dragging a loofa over my skin in such soft strokes by the time he was done, I was throbbing all over again.

We didn’t even bother with towels, I just dragged him straight to our bed, pulling us between the sheets and losing myself in him, drowning out the feeling of blood on my skin and the fear that the other shoe was about to drop.

Chapter 32

Rose

I was tired and bruised and just didn't want to deal with anything. Not when I could ignore any problems from the cocoon of my comforter and Dominic’s body.

But that wasn’t a choice a god or the protector of a realm could make.

I got up and got ready, Dominic close behind as if he was convinced some other injury would pop up if he let me out of his sight.

My physical form was fine. Any bruises had faded and the cut on my arm hadn’t reopened. As gods, we healed faster than normal, unless you severely injured yourself.

I’d had cuts on my knuckles that hadn’t healed for any entire day after my father forced Pine and I to wail on a punching bag until blood coated the surface.

Mentally, I was feeling okay too. I was tired, that wasn’t in debate. Yesterday was just a lot. It was a long time coming, but finally believing that I didn’t deserve any of this, that maybe I’d let it go on too long and shouldered misplaced blame, rocked me.

If it wasn’t for the support I knew I had from my friends and Dominic, it might have sent me spiraling. But I felt like they had believed it before me, and that was comfort enough.

A small ping hit my chest at the thought that my best friend wasn’t there to share it with me. But I also believed what Dominic said—that it would be okay, and Daphne would come back when she was ready. And I’d be here to hear what happened and talk her through it.

Max had sent breakfast up to our room that morning, along with a note that requested we meet in my office instead of the kitchen. This wasn't a breakfast table discussion in the slightest.

Dominic and I walked down to my office together, his hand never leaving the back of my neck. He was silent today. Not that he wasn’t all grumbly and quiet normally, but this seemed more tense than his comfortable silence.

I looked up at him with curious eyes, letting him know I noticed.

He just shook his head silently and kept walking toward the office wing.

When we got there, Max and Marcus were already sitting on my couch and Raiden was in a chair next to the coffee table. It left the two chairs in front of my desk free, which Dominic pulled out and around to face them. We talked like everything was normal for a little, exchanging morning pleasantries until Max breathed in and crossed their hands together over their legs, a subtle reminder we had business to attend to.

Silence fell around the group and Max nodded at Marcus, who sat up a little straighter and began.

†

Dominic

“First things first, this was organized,” Marcus said, and my hands immediately curled into fists.

Of course, it was fucking organized. There was no other explanation for an angry mob of people attacking Rose at the exact moment she was locked away with a priest.

---