Page 54 of The Surrender

She will ruin you.

KYAN

Oranges for her first ball at the Court of Ash. Now, her hands are preoccupied with babies.

I take my place on the foremost throne alongside my brothers. Other than Drago’s, mine is the largest, as it was constructed to accommodate my wings. To think, it’s the first time in thousands of years my people bear witness to their King taking his throne with his true wings in all their glory. As usual, we all wear our customary masks.

A delirious heat spreads in my veins, kindling my blood and rousing my feathers to ruffle—as so many others ruffle at the sight of her. I chuckle darkly at Drago on my left. How he’s slumped on his throne, elbow propped on the armrest and chin in his hand as he regards Quintessa while she rocks another baby and taps the child’s nose. Those glimmering emerald eyes practically growl his desire to fuck her within my very ballroom.

“No,” I snarl at him.

He stiffens. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.” I posture on my throne and thrust my chin higher, reminding him who rules this Court of Storms. On my other side, Merikh grunts low and shifts in his throne, far more comfortable in the shadows.

“All of us are thinking it,” argues Drago, and while I can’t refute it, given the nature of the blood rushing to my groin, I can forbid it.

“It’s the first time the people are showing their acceptance. I will not jeopardize that with our possessive lust,” I solidify with my fist braced on my armrest. And jut my chin toward her, “Tonight, she will feast. She will laugh. She will dance. After, we may each fuck her to our heart’s content.”

It settles the dragon and his exhibitionist nature for the present. He and Mayce have that in common as lovers. Fae and dragon races are known for their flamboyance and showing off, especially when it comes to their lovers. Not that Quintessa is unwilling as we’ve discovered. Something that stems from her ultimate need for attention—for someone fulfilling those deep-seated, unquenchable desires after her life spent numb and neglected.

We will share parts of our lives later this night. If she wishes us to quench those unquenchable desires, she will open herself to me first, then to us.

My heartbeat quickens as I watch her. It does me good to see her interacting with the people and how they accept her. How they’ve surrendered to her because she is nothing like Erya.

But she will be, dear sweet Kyan. Erya did not get a chance to end your life. This one will. Oh, how you will fall!

I turn my chin to the side to keep my face hidden in the shadow of my wing so I may snarl a warning. The last thing I need is for him to ruin her night.

As she will ruin you...

Needing the distraction, I do my best to shove him to the back corner of my mind and rise to a stand. Little surprise that my people drop to their knees. My little Queen turns to the side upon my approach down the dais. Gods, she looks exquisite in that gown while bearing a child in her arms. And with the sweet tears glistening in her eyes to roll their emotions down her cheeks. I read overwhelming relief, peace, and even bliss.

The day she shows these emotions when she holds my child, our child will be the ultimate thrill and bond. Perhaps strong enough to save my very soul and free me from this curse.

After bidding her to return the child to his mother and excusing her for a short time, I announce the official commencement of the celebrations. Countless servants issue into the court bearing trays of angel fare while the dances begin.

I invite Quintessa to join me on my throne.

Much like last time, she’s only too thrilled to sit on my lap, though all her shifting and wiggling has my cock throbbing more. Despite servants bringing her whatever her desire of a delicacy—mostly gold-berries and honeyed pancakes—she doesn’t stop squirming. Now, I suspect our little one is doing it on purpose. The sight of all her pearly pale skin from the divide in the gown, her flushed cheeks, and her lips sweet and ripe from the berries do nothing to aid in my suffering member.

Finally, I snap, seize her hips and sweep her into a stand.

While my people’s incessant need to cling to tradition and bow every time I depart from the dais grates on the other Kings’ nerves, hope sparks in my chest. Hope that one day, perhaps sooner than we expect, all my people will bow to me and my Queen in the Ten United Cities of Angels. No longer fallen. I will claim my rightful throne in the Tenth City. And while I may not fuck her on my throne, I will take her in midair over the Vestal Mountains and upon the highest pinnacle of my palace.

With those fantasies playing in my mind and hunger swelling in and heating my blood, I lead Quintessa into a dance and whisper in her ear, “It’s time I shared with you some history, my Quinny. Her name...was Erya.”

37

You cannot save him when I already did.

QUINTESSA

My breath hitches, and I swear my body goes numb upon Kyan’s profession. Thankfully, he’s good at leading in this dance. His wings are a sight to behold. Curved toward me with all their muscles flexing to exhibit his power, they accentuate the nobility of his bearing and the monstrous and gorgeous fallen angel effigy that he is. My body has no choice but to gravitate to his. And feed on his energy.

“She came through the Veil of Souls,” he introduces me to some of his history and twirls me once before bringing my body back to his. “But nothing like you, Quinny. She did not have a shadow being to help her through the Veil. She had an…enchantment upon her.”

“Just call it what it is, Kyan,” Shadow lilts in place while tightening his hold on my waist and hand. I part my lips as I study the shift in his features. How his pupils dilate. How his veins strain against the tension in his neck. How his very wings harden more and curve as if to possess me more than he already is. “It was a curse. Nothing more than a mask.”

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