Page 75 of The Surrender

I hardly know what my fingers are doing because I’m too fixated on the beautiful God of Air before me. Snowflakes feather the thick dark lashes with the serene indigo of his eyes peeking beyond them. Except, they aren’t looking at me. Not anyone. All I know is Kyan is somewhere else. He shivers from the constant rain of strikes savaging his wings, drawing more blood, and shedding more gold feathers until they remind me of rays of sunshine strewn upon the ground.

My throat constricts from need, my lips wanting to press against Kyan’s.

But I rub my erect nipples instead, my gaze swinging between the gods before me. A subtle curl of the corners of the angel’s mouth betrays a soft smile. Everything in me wishes I could become a part of whatever vision soars in his mind, something Merikh likely knows. One he shares. Just as I submitted to the vampire the one night on the tower because whatever pain and suffering he inflicted was nothing compared to the years when I was just the gray girl of the Borderlands. I trusted him to know the reward that would follow. Just as Kyan trusts him now.

Like chaotic swan feathers, snow grows around us, biting at me. Tiny crystals coat my skin and raise the gooseflesh. With every whipping from the vampire’s hand, the wind grows madder, harsher, and violent. Nothing but a gray and white tapestry all around us, and I’m shaking from the cold. Unable to fathom why my insides are hot and wet with fire and ice coursing through my veins.

More blood. More feathers. Merikh beats the ever-loving fuck out of Kyan—worse than he did to me on the tower. He’s penetrated through layers of skin and to the strong sinew and muscle beneath. The primal predator living off blood and hatred has awoken. His energy bleeds into me, making my skin crawl. More scarlet red makes up the fabric of the angel’s wings than gold.

Not. One. Sound.

The storm is Kyan’s sound. Ice and fury and punishing crystals wage war against the valley and trigger the lake itself to freeze. Those crystals vie with Kyan’s tears. Every muscle in his body has hardened. Every vein thrums and bulges. But his eyes are lost somewhere else.

A single rumble of thunder crashes upon the mountain.

Merikh drops the belt.

The wind pauses.

The snow hushes. Spectral-like and soft, it falls upon the valley now. Everything about the storm and the silence that follows is regal and beautiful. Grandeur and wonder. Like the gods before me.

When I turn from the snow, I double over, gasping, lungs slamming together and heart lurching in my chest.

Because they’re buried within one another. Facing each other. But it’s clear Merikh is holding Kyan, rocking him as the angel weeps on his shoulder.

The raw vulnerability of what they share is something I can feel even if I don’t understand. Beyond possessiveness or masculine dominance, some deep magnetic force crashes them together in a will of hearts and souls. One soul.

Merikh has fed the darkness of his curse into the angel. And Kyan took it. He took it all!

Awe and fear strike deep into me. My center grows warmer, wetter at the sight of their union until I’m damn near creaming myself.

One brutal glance from the vampire reminds me not to come.

My chest throbs at the sight of the fallen feathers and the blood pooling into the snow around them. But they don’t speak about what has just happened. Instead, Merikh grips the back of Kyan’s hair, fists it, and yanks his head back to crush his mouth against the angel’s. Muscles flex in each of their jaws as they deepen the kiss. They never break eye contact. Their control and power are staggering. The way their ridged bodies move as they rock and saw into one another, pumping in and out, has me grating my nails into the ground until they turn numb—which I hate.

The snow has become part of my hair. It’s seeped through the cape to sodden the fabric, and it clings like an icy sheen upon my skin. They are like the eye of the storm, and I’m still on the outside, freezing against the walls battering me. I am so cold.

“Come here, little spirit moth.”

I leap at the sound of Kyan’s voice. His first words. When Merikh turns to me, jaw hard but lifting in confirmation, I don't waste time. I stumble and scramble to get to them.

“Strip, little dove.”

I remove his cape, cast it aside like a black veil. And when they touch me and carefully draw me into the center of their embrace without their eyes breaking contact, nor their cocks, a shockwave crashes through me.

They are going to fuck. With me between them.

49

Oh, gods, they’ll drown me at this rate!

QUINTESSA

Between their slow intimacy and how delicately they pump into one another, rocking me gently, I’m certain I’m going to implode. Not that I don’t understand since they both take turns rubbing the swell of my belly.

Their eyes lock on one another the whole time despite how they caress me.

“You rode the storm beautifully, Kyanatu,” Merikh tells him, prompting me to part my lips and widen my eyes.

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