Page 73 of The Surrender

Once Drago and Mayce have departed to follow my command, I explain my invitation to Merikh and bid him to follow us to the lake.

“It won’t be the same, brother. Your Curse is broken. Mine is not,” he defines through clenched teeth, his eyes out for blood.

“I am aware.”

“Are you prepared to surrender?”

Crooking my smile to one side, I flex the sinew of my wings while sifting my fingers through Quinny’s hair and say, “With all my soul.”

* * *

I land upon the bank of the lake and lower our little queen to the rocks until she’s sitting, curling her knees to her chest, and working to cover herself with her hair. Until Merikh removes his long black coat and drapes it around her shoulders, giving her nothing else. No words. No gestures. No fingers digging into her hair. His eyes don’t even give her a cursory glance.

No, they are for me alone. After centuries of him surrendering to Shadow, who dealt him scars and blood, punishment and torture and brutality, it’s my turn to surrender.

“Strip,” is Merikh’s sole command as he weaponizes his bloodthirsty eyes upon mine.

Quinny’s eyes rocket wide open. But I smile and nod at my partner. No qualms about throwing off my robe and dropping it to the ground before finalizing with my pants until they join the robe. I lower my wings in submission. I drop my arms. I shed my title.

I become nothing but Kyan, my thunder to his blood.

“Present yourself,” he deepens the demand.

I lower myself until my knees hit the ground. Wings spread but curled in the opposite direction, prepared for his punishment. Heat roars to my cock from the dark approval in Merikh’s eyes, their pupils dilating with hunger. A chuckle lodges in my chest when I consider how many times I was forced into this position in his Court. In public, everything was by force. Never at any time during those dark times did I submit.

Not until he was at his weakest when the glimmering dawn burned the sky, and I breathed life back into the vampire.

She’s still curled into herself, but Quinny’s eyes are riveted upon us, all her muscles tense. When Merikh removes his belt, sliding it off to snap it in an ear-splitting crack, I don’t flinch. She quakes.

Blood surges to my cock from how he watches me, eyes roaming across the ridges of my muscles, more in my back than his. Guilt twinges inside me because he’s been stripped of his wings for centuries. Sundered of fangs and his full ability to drink and sate his thirst. And despite all the punishments Shadow dealt him over centuries, I robbed him of his time with Quintessa when I gave her my feather.

Merikh’s eyes descend to my thick, hard member swelling between my thighs. A minor pause compared to his eyes lifting to rove across my wings in a silent gesture of promise. I will heal. But he will strip me bare first.

My chest throbs with the lust and longing we’ve been denied during the Curse. Only Merikh can unleash the naked identity of Kyanatu in his purest god form.

“No safety,” Merikh reminds me of our words to one another the first time we did this...before the Curse.

“We are not safe. We are gods,” I say firmly, relaxing my muscles despite how much they want to brace themselves.

“No men here,” he echoes. “Do you surrender?”

“To transformation,” I agree.

Quintessa shudders. Our eyes swing to hers. Tears blot them like wet stars because she understands the gravity of these moments. A gravity as strong as the untamed peaks of the mountains all around us.

We narrow our gazes upon her in a direct warning, her last chance to back out. This will not be easy for her to watch. Nor bear. Remorse twists inside me when I consider the swell of her belly and our growing child.

She lifts her chin like the little queen she is. A fresh wind drifts around her, shaking up her silver hair, reminding me of moonlight upon soft clouds. With a soft shake of her head, she takes our warning…and stays.

I send a current of vibration to hum in a taunt to the vampire, willing him to do his worst. Merikh’s nostrils flare. He swings the whip.

And brings it down hard on my chest, lashing the skin, welting the flesh. But it’s only the beginning.

48

“You will not come, boy. You know the rules.”

QUINTESSA

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