Page 10 of The Surrender

I rock my hips toward him and rub myself against his pelvis, reintroducing myself to his thick erection. With a deep growl, the vampire god jerks his fingers from my center. I don’t even get to protest before he swings me around, forcing my upper body against the ledge. Forcing me to gaze out at the precipice. Vertigo surges raw adrenaline inside me. Stretching himself across my back, he shoves a knee between my thighs until my legs are spread as wide as they can possibly go.

And with the storm raging all around us, Merikh pierces me, invades me…and slams so deep into me, he’s buried to the hilt.

“Gods!” I scream from the blinding, searing pressure, but groan to the pressure bowing to pleasure. The second I try to crane my neck back to meet his eyes, the vampire snarls, fists my hair, and forces me back down, forbidding me from staring at him.

“Only one god here, little dove,” he coos, nipping at the side of my neck. “I took your blood today. But not in the way I desire most. So, you will take it the wayIwant it.”

Merikh doesn’t need two cocks like Drago. Doesn’t need a vibrating one like Kyan. He’s so impossibly thick and forces me to feel every single inch. Those magic crosses chafe their cold kisses into me. He pistons his hips, jerks out all the way, and I shriek, my nails breaking as I grapple with the stone ledge.

“Don’t move while I fuck you, while I use you…and break you.” His command has all my hairs standing on end, waiting, waiting, waiting.

He rams me hard. A scream rips from my mouth. Not once does Merikh kiss me. He doesn’t lick me again or whisper any sadist seduction in my ear. He doesn’t seek me with his eyes. No, the vampire is a slave to his darkness, his demons. He’s feeding them now with his ruthlessness. And despite his hands like iron shackles and that hammer of a cock pounding my insides, I press my lips tight and grimace. I won’t let him deny me my pleasure and power.

It's why it stuns me as I reach down to play with my swollen clit and discover his finger arrive right before mine. I lurch at the unexpected touch.

As his finger attacks the distended nub, playing with it back and forth, rubbing circles around it, I grip the stone as hard as I can and exclaim, “Oh, savage merc-!”

Another ferocious slam inside me cuts off all my breath. And one single pinch to my clit. A shockwave detonates inside me. Whole body shuddering and pussy strangling his magic-cross cock, I come. Merikh power-fucks me through it, prolonging my orgasm until I’m damn near bloodying my nails on the stone.

Still, he doesn’t stop, and I hear his breaths turn to grunts, and finally a long, drawn-out groan. Finally, he snaps. Jerking and pumping everything into me, Merikh roars loud enough to shame the thunder—like some beast who’s caught its prey. And with that final, deep penetrating, he lays siege to my pleasure, claims it, and sends me over the edge again! Soaring into a climax to conquer the storm.

I sag, boneless, utterly spent against the stone while Merikh shoves himself back in his pants. Another firm fisting of my hair, and he leans over me, his breath warm and heavy across the back of my neck.

“Remember this, Quintessa. Kyan’s demon belongs to me. I and I alone can sate him. You are no match for him, little dove. He is mine. The first time he tries to take you, all you need to do is call me, little one. And you will. You will cry for me on that day. You will scream. And once he’s finished with me, I will come for you.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Merikh leaves. He is a crueler storm, leaving me to one of wind and rain, thunder and darkness and burning fire. Bleeding and bruised with only hairline cracks upon my heart, I rest for a few moments, letting the rain wash off the blood and cleanse my skin.

Finally, slowly, I rise to a stand and return to Kyan’s tower suite, grateful when I don’t find Merikh in the shadows again.

8

“They’re fighting over…me?”

QUINTESSA

My mood has greatly improved by the time I make it downstairs.

After changing into another tunic of Kyan’s, rolling up his long pant legs, and forming new notches in the belt, so I could cinch up the pants, I’d pulled my hair into a messy braid and wandered the halls.

The few servants I’ve observed remind me of the birdlike woman I’d witnessed when Kyan took me to the lake. Some even bear whole beaks and not mouths. Or wings but not arms. No sign of Eyn-Amaru though, which leaves my heart a little heavy. But if Merikh brought Jinx, maybe Drago could arrange to have Eyn-Amaru brought here. Or Kyan.

At last, I find the royal supper hall where Mayce and Merikh have already seated themselves. Raindrops trickle down the high-arched windows at the far end of the hall, but I’m heartened that the thunder and lightning have faded, and the clouds have retreated. Now, the sky is as gray as my hair: its usual Waste color.

Unlike Drago’s castle, where the supper hall boasted of stained-glass windows depicting dragon battles, Kyan’s simply grants an uninhibited view of the mountain-scape. The floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end open to a balcony overlooking a sheer drop to lower-lying mountains. It leaves me wondering what sort of towns exist in the area...and what sort of people.

Almost as soon as I enter, Mayce rises from the table, diverting my thoughts. Merikh remains seated in an easy recline. Though he’s lowered his head to canvas his eyes with his dark hair, I can tell by their predatory gleam that he’s studying me. I stiffen but don’t cow before him. The memory of what he did a short time ago is enough to grow frost crystals in my blood. And liquid heat to my center. I read between the brutal warning in his eyes: say nothing of what happened.

At least Mayce puts me at ease when he sways toward me, arms spread. I force a smile as he closes the distance between us and kisses each of my cheeks. Gods! He casts the bewildering scent of wild violets, warm and ancient spices like myrrh and clove, and even earthy hints like dark and decayed fallen wood and fresh evergreen.

“Ahh, there is our little gray queen...” he greets me along with a kiss and clasps my hands.

At first, I choke on my speech as I roam my eyes across his figure. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Between the royal blue velvet of his robes warming me to contrast the cold, metallic buckles sweeping down to his waist where they meet a stunning, polished belt of pure gold, Mayce is a pure Fae god. My heart weeps at his ethereal beauty. His silvery gold locks honor the elegant curve of his neck and compliment the aged yet artful depths of his hazel eyes.

Despite his pretentious smile at noticing my observance, Mayce taps my nose and adds, “Don’t you fret your pretty head, Quintessa. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. After all, I pride myself on being the best dressed of all my brothers, maintaining the traditional fashions of my people. We may be exiled and cursed, but it doesn’t mean we lose all sense of propriety. Or appearances.”

Merikh snorts from the end of the table and adjusts his cap. Mayce waves a dismissive hand. “Pay him no mind, my sweet.” Mayce takes my arm and leads me toward the table, leaving me no choice but to follow. “Merikh is undoubtedly the modern classic among us. Kyan is the casual one. And Drago is...well...”

I cover my giggle since Mayce blushes a little. Sometimes, I forget each of the kings has their own partners and had them long before they met me. Even now, I can’t help but feel a prickle of apprehension, of pure terror, wondering when they will finally tire of me. At any time, Kyan could fly me to the highest peak and drop me and be done with me. My insides churn at the thought, and I swallow the rising tears when I think of how my father would have washed his hands of me years before if he could have.

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