Page 56 of The Sacrifice

I close my eyes. Not pride, old friend. I feel her more this way. If I give up the pain, I will give up the feeling of her clenching around me, gushing all over my cock, how raw and real and alive she was every time. How she cherished the pain from my hands, my teeth, my claws, and my cocks. The sweetness in her eyes when she gifted us with oranges. The mischief in her mouth when she’d willfully taunt me so she could reap punishment before drowning in pleasure. The strength of her body but more her will to endure all of our torment and passion. And the great feat of her pretty pussy sucking the fullness of our dragonhood. Hot and burning, bloody. Fuck, the dark and sinful taste of her with such sweet aftermath, it left me ablaze every time.

Without this pain, I’d surrender the fire she ignited in my heart. And the unquenchable desire to possess and protect her. I’ve shed my blood, broken my bones for her. But she’d fucking shed parts of her soul and gifted them to me. If I could, I’d give her mine in return.

With a deep sigh, I know I won’t get that chance when the Hag’s claws plunge into my body, and she plunges her foul magic inside me, blacking out all my senses and enslaving me to a slumber of endless nightmares.

41

"You will give me your name."

QUINTESSA

Roars thunder in the distance. My chest aches the further I run from Drago. Branches claw at the flimsy nightgown I wear, attacking it and tearing the fabric. It doesn’t matter. Apart from Qora’s chilling Shadow, I feel nothing.

The numbness pulsing through my heart is even worse. As if I’m losing bits of myself behind. Almost to the far west side of the castle where the only walls are left standing. Through the trees, those splintered walls give me a jolt of energy, of hope at finding the other king. Too many horrid thoughts skitter through my mind. Maybe they’re trapped beneath the weight of the castle. Maybe they disappeared into the woods. A bitter taste burns at the back of my throat because I can’t imagine they would ever betray Drago like that. The knowledge only rushes more ice into my blood. Somehow, they must be hurt or trapped.

And I’ve never felt more helpless. Pausing near a tangle of trees that reach little higher than my person, I double over and clutch at my throat, trying to grapple with my breaths. It doesn’t matter that I’m not underground. The trees have turned to walls, threatening to close in and devour me.

Qora stops and flits back to my side when she discovers I’m no longer behind her. Somehow, I know her exercise won’t help me now. As if she’s aware, my Shadow says nothing and lets me hyperventilate until my lungs smolder and strain. Bile churns in my belly.

“This way, Quinn,” she urges me to follow her deeper into the forest, away from the castle.

At first, I tense, wondering why we’re going this way, but it’s not long before I’m following her shadowy trail. It takes more for me to keep up with her since she can pass clear through trees while I must weave around every obstacle. Especially since I’m still holding Jinx. The charred trees thicken the deeper we go, and apprehension prickles my insides. When the fox inside my arms yips, and the fur on his back rises, when his ears flatten, and he makes a whining sound, I freeze mid-step.

“Qora...” My Shadow pauses after I say her name. “What’s going on?”

With a deep sigh, she turns to me, but her amber eyes seem dimmer, and her shadows more abundant than ever. I part my lips and knit my brows, confused.

At the sudden touch upon my waist, I understand why Qora didn’t speak. My blood curdles in my veins because I have memorized every one of my monsters’ touches. So, I spin, hand primed to attack, but Kronos catches my wrist and chuckles darkly. What I find in his eyes is enough to halt my insides and launch sharp, icy horror into my marrow. A twisted, sadistic gleam emphasized all the more by his smile. If it was a cocky smile, it wouldn’t feel like razor claws boring into me. It’s self-assured, unwavering, and possessive. It’s how Merikh looked at me when he held my wrist in the dungeon. It’s how Drago looks at me when he fucks me.

“I warned you not to take my generosity for granted, little wisp. Thank you, Shadow...” he nods to Qora. They are the last words before my hearing dulls, the last I see before my vision turns to darkness.

* * *

Once I wake, the first thing I feel is cold iron upon my wrists and my nipples pebbling from the frigid air shivering across my body. Those senses mean Kronos is close. Too close, I learn when he sweeps my hair onto one shoulder before his heated breath curls against the nape of my neck. Part of me doesn’t want to open my eyes, but I’m determined to know my surroundings.

As soon as I do, I swallow hard, struggling against the tears burning the backs of my eyes. All around me, dark cavern walls prey on my fear. They close in. And I’d swear a millstone is crushing my chest while a python twists its body around my throat, squeezing and smothering all my breath. In the middle of the cavern, I stand with my arms above my head, spread and shackled to the jagged rocks. Shackles don’t bind my ankles, but a spreader bar keeps them parted, muscles strained from however long he’s kept me here.

Hanging my head, I let the tears fall and my chest heave. Something shimmers off to the side, and when I swing my eyes toward it, I part my lips, choking on a gasp. The narrow gap in the far wall betrays the sight of ghostly flickers wandering like wispy ribbons. Their hushing energy lurks toward me, but Kronos is far too powerful for that energy to touch me. This isn’t just any cave. It’s a cave the Veil of Souls. Even if I could manage to escape, all that awaits me is that labyrinth of wintry spirits ready to tangle around my half-soul and trap me in their embrace until I become one of them.

Out of the corner of my eye, a familiar figure hovers. I spear my eyes to her amber ones and narrow mine.

“Now, now, little wisp,” Kronos breathes along my neck, and my breath hitches from the soft and sensual trail his lips rub along the side of my neck. “I will protect you. To prove my generosity, my offer to become my personal blood binder still stands. And I thought it best that we get to know each other better.”

Something soft feathers across my back beyond my nightgown. I recognize the familiar sensation of the leather, the several tails all bound to a sturdy handle of a whip. Here and now, the gravity of what’s about to happen triggers waves of tremors to shudder up and down my body. My hands tremble in the shackles. I swing my gaze to Qora and hope my gray eyes are bitter and cold to mirror her betrayal.

“It’s better this way,” she tries to convince me, but it’s the first time she doesn’t drift toward me. “You have always been naïve, little fool. A few days with these kings, and you forget all the blood they’ve shed within the Borderlands. You forget the whole purpose of the Waste is to imprison them.”

I shiver from the god-eater toying with the buttons at the back of my nightgown, but I focus on Qora, brutalizing her with my eyes and my glower. No words. She postures because she knows she’s right. Even as Kronos rips the back of the flimsy nightgown, clattering buttons to the ground, and exposing my back to the bitter wind howling into the cavern, I know how simple it would be to accept his offer. It would be better for Qora, better for me to be a privileged and protected blood binder to the Emperor. But I’d rather be a damned Queen of the Waste and a pet to my monsters than surrender anything to Kronos.

“I cannot have traitors within my Inner Circle, little one,” he informs me, gripping the handle of the whip tighter. “This is a necessary process to break you and bond you by blood to myself. Rest assured, I will know when you are lying.”

I grit my teeth. I loathe his eyelashes, so thick and many and delicate, they could shame a moth. I despise his eyes because they are ghostlier than mine with the power to sharpen like ice spikes or to soften into silvery moonlight. Feral and feline, he has the power to paralyze with that gaze.

Swallowing the rancid taste at the back of my throat, I cage a whimper as he brushes those tails along my back in a precursor of a warning. This whispering of touch to tingle my skin is far worse than any punishing blow he could land. Again, he makes me feel safe. His body is warm enough to chase away the gooseflesh on my skin. His very breath against my cheek when he presses against me spirals an ache deep in my belly. My womb itself tightens, weeps in the face of his seduction and his monstrous beauty.

Swallowing revulsion, I flex my fingers and imagine spreading my vym, projecting it from my body in a desperate attempt to escape the shackles. Kronos thumbing his way down my spine, one vertebra at a time, has me nearly seizing. “Poor sweet wisp. Forget about your blood-binding. I have devoured it for the time. Rest assured, I may return it at any time. But I have conditions.” My chest sinks in as he brushes those ends across my skin. “We will begin with something simple, little wisp. First, you will give me your name.”

“I hope the Kings slice your balls off, filet them, and feed them to me for breakfast,” I laugh in the wake of the adrenaline charging up my spine. The surge is wild and mad, but I’d rather be mad and survive this than rational and safe and surrender.

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