Page 19 of The Sacrifice

Whole body jerking, I slam my hips against his. Our wings shift up, slapping hard against each other. With the Fae pushing his ass against me, spurring me on, I shoot scalding ropes of seed into him while he blows his load on the bed, leaving a milky, white well in the sheets. We collapse against one another, my cock still embedded inside him, giving little pulses. Both our bodies shudder.

“Damn, maybe I should come near death more often,” I snicker and nip the side of his neck.

He rolls his eyes and shoves me off him, shifting onto his side. “Or perhaps I should, and you may so dutifully tend to my aftercare with your impassioned, simmering mouth taking my cock all the way down your goddamned dragon gullet.”

I heave a sigh and mirror his body but prop my arm behind my head, more relaxed while trailing a finger down his cheek. “Such pretty words.”

“Remember our years before the curse when we kept a tally on who could achieve the most court fucks while our parents secured their treaties?”

I chuckle low, but my chest tightens uncomfortably. “How could I forget? You bested me every time. But we never speak of our times before the curse.”

“We wouldn’t trade our bond for anything, brother. But tell me, what else would you trade for a lush, hot pussy? Not the cold, corpse ones of our Waste courts that feel like we’re fucking an ice sculpture.”

“What are you blathering on about, Mayce? And where are Merikh and Ky? They usually turn up by now to assess the damage.” I glance at the door, half-expecting the two of them unless our mating provided them with some inspiration.

“Oh, Kyan refused to leave the girl in Merikh’s malevolent hands.”

I stiffen. All my veins and tendons throb and tighten. My once-simmering fire rears up, until smoke curls from my ears while I snort embers from my nose. “What girl?”

12

"You're in the Belly of the Beast."

QUINTESSA

I’m convinced it was all a dream.

Something meant for those spicy books I stole from Darya and buried in the dirt of the root cellar to keep me company whenever Pater locked me underground. Unfortunately, Pater caught me once trying to stroke my pussy, hoping to rouse some sensation. I couldn’t feel the hot wax he’d poured over my “lady garden” in his words, but he’d ensured I couldn’t touch my petals or pearl for quite some time, determined to purify them. I’d said nothing about how Sarai and I’d already touched each other’s pearls, along with everything else. When I turned sixteen, I sought out any boy in the Borderlands who could fuck me. After all, I knew the Sacrifice would eventually be my fate.

No one in their right mind would ever wed the Gray Girl who spoke with ghosts.

So, I am definitely not in a castle belonging to the Kings of the Waste. I most certainly did not heal the Dragon King. Lowered male voices cannot be arguing in the same room as me. I’m absolutely not wearing one of the god king’s jackets and rubbing my nude and scarred legs against each other in a foreign bed.

This must be some perversion of purgatory since I imagine I’d feel more in heaven just as burning whips would flay my nerves in hell. The Sister banshees must have trapped my soul between the afterworlds.

I swallow a dry lump in my throat. Open my crusty eyes to Qora, who hovers above me, needling her eyes to flaming slits.

I smile, grateful that she’s with me, always with me.

The pounding of hard footsteps has me slamming my eyes shut again, pretending to be asleep. A deep voice, not dark and silky like the Fae’s or sweet and calm like the fallen angel’s or even wicked and feline-like the vampire’s, bellows into the room, “Out! Both of you! In the hall. NOW!”

It’s gruff, gravely. Dark and sinful, the voice bleeds past my skin to trigger my pulse to thrum. An irresistible alpha command. The Dragon King’s command. A growl and a groan follow the order. A door slams, resounding against the walls. As soon as it does, I fling off the covers and stumble out of the bed, grabbing a chair to support my wobbly legs. Qora slips in front of me as I stagger for the door and press my ear against it.

“Be reasonable, Drago. What if—”

Drago cuts Kyan off, snarling, “Ten thousand years of fucking ‘what-ifs’! I’m done pussyfooting around. Her blood will or won’t satisfy. That’s all that matters. I don’t give a fuck what she did. My castle, my rules. My revenge. You will get your turn after me.”

Even if I don’t feel fear as keenly as most, the sense of urgency is enough to electrify my spine. So, I spin and charge as fast as I can for the window.

“What the devil are you doing?” demands Qora, shifting beside me, curling her dark essence around me, and prickling my hairs.

“As thrilling as it would be to get devoured by a dragon, I’m taking Quinn-pie off the menu tonight,” I tell her and grip the base of the window, groaning when it doesn’t budge.

“Little fool, you healed the bastard god.”

“Didn’t you hear him?”

Qora huffs and shadows herself against the wall. “Clearly, you’ve learned nothing of the undead during all your years with me. Or men despite all your experiments.”

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