Page 1 of The Surrender

1

Their dark dream fulfilled.

QUINTESSA

I never thought anyone could match Drago’s two dragon cocks until I experienced Kyan’s enormous angelic onevibratinginside me. Too many times, I lost count until I passed out, which was his ulterior motive. Not that it’s a competition.

Raindrops and the distant clap of thunder woke me a few minutes ago.

Out of my peripheral vision, I notice the sheer drop. Thousands of feet of distance between me and the earth—with nothing but wispy, dark clouds to offer their protection—send my heart hammering and my adrenaline pulsing violently. Even so, a dark thrill leaps into my nerve endings. Why does some twisted and disturbed part of me want him to drop me? To wonder what it would feel like to fall? Would it be unparalleled, unfathomable freedom in the eternity of a moment? Or would it be the purity of terror?

I look up at Kyan’s face, his expression so tranquil and focused on the landscape. With the black diamond-like raindrops falling upon his locks that cling to his strong brow and fracture those deep-set eyes, he reminds me of some beautiful and otherworldly creature from the darker side of the moon.

Wings. Kyan’s wings will be my greatest memory of this journey to the Court of Storms. Before, they were tattered and gray—much like my soul before I entered the Veil of Souls, played with monsters, and became their willing slave. And eventually, their Queen. Now, Kyan’s wings are as iridescent as moonlight on black ice. Not once is he concerned about the blinding rain raging all around us. They do not ravage his feathers. No, those pinions beat steadfast, gleaming like molten glass in the night—unwavering through any weather.

My pussy still thrums and throbs from when he pushed into it countless times with that vibrating cock. I’ll never forget my first time with Kyan like I’ll never forget my first time with Drago. But unlike with the dragon, which happened in a lackluster tower bedroom, Kyan threw me off a tower. And fucked me in midair!

At first, I open my mouth to ask him how long our journey will be until I see the tears between the raindrops flowing down his cheek. Ethereal tears falling from his eyes. Each one is as precious as a star. The reverence and honor of these moments undo me, bore into me. Is it truly the first time he’s flown in ten thousand years? Instead of disturbing these treasured moments, I pretend to be gray and invisible. Something simple for me as long as one of them is close.

I lick my lips, my thoughts drifting to the others: Drago, Mayce, and Merikh. How long before they track us down? Will they come to this Court of Storms that belongs to Kyan? How will their dynamic function now?

Instead of losing myself in the scrambling of my thoughts, I lean into the moment. I touch my cheek to Kyan’s strong chest, feel those muscles harden ever so slightly, and listen to the pounding of his heart. After breathing in his scent like the mountain wind, damp gravestones, and a hint of snow, I gaze up at his celestial face. Those normally tranquil blue eyes seem to shimmer with a silvery light from the heavens while his cheekbones seem sharper, sharp as truth and seraphim swords.

What sort of angel was Kyan before he was cursed and fallen?

I memorize the strong pillar of his neck with its enhanced muscles and prominent veins. I memorize his full and sensual lips. And most of all, those wings. Hundreds of overlapping black feathers with their beat like an ominous war drum as if signaling a doomed fate for myself.

In and out of an hour later, with me burying my face in Kyan’s chest to offset the sensation of vertigo, the angel lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Look to the east.”

It’s barely beyond nightfall, but I still gasp at the sight of the dark celestial castle constructed into the very rocks of grandiose cliffsides. Several bridges span from its heart to connect the lesser wings of the castle. Each wing boasts of a formidable tower. Carved from the stone itself, staircases rise in grand arcs to lead to that castle.

From this distance, I can make out sweeping lower mountain valleys with a few small villages. All belong to Kyan’s realm.

Lightning fissures the sky, and I startle, but the youngest King of the Waste chuckles and tugs me closer. Right now, he doesn’t seem as young as the others. As if his heritage, his ancestry, extends far beyond them.

Unlike last time when a host of bone-masked lizard people escorted me to the Court of Ash, Kyan is the only one to carry me inside his castle after pushing two great oak doors. With Drago’s scaled bodice and the mere transparent skirt tresses clinging to my soaked skin, I shiver in the cold embrace of the castle entryway.

Kyan doesn’t let me go. My chest heaves, my lips tremble with need and fatigue as he sweeps me into a honeymoon hold.

“Shhh…my Quinny. Thank you for your silence on my flight. You deserve a sweet reward for your restraint.”

I can’t help but perk up, my chest lifting from his declaration. He chuckles again. That laugh reverberates inside me to flutter warmth inside my belly. It’s nothing compared to the fire he lights within a great hearth one room over from the entryway. A rush of air comes from nowhere to feed the tiny flame from the flint he sparks. Not from nowhere—from him.

Icy tremors ripple up and down my body as I stand behind him.

Then, he approaches with those powerful and beauteous wings unfurled to drown me in their shadow. I rub my arms in a soothing manner because he’s all predator advancing toward me. Raindrops tumble off the ends of his feathers. Each one echoes the heated lust radiating off the angel. Before he even touches me, he blows all the butterflies in my stomach away, leaving nothing but a swirling typhoon of antennae and wings.

The first thing Kyan does is capture each side of my face, tilt my neck, and urge my lips to his. Unlike Drago, he doesn’t demand. I melt. I surrender into the dream that is this fallen angel. I bend and bow without any battle as he presses his lips to mine, folds mine back, probes the seam, and plunders the inside of my mouth. He doesn’t tangle his tongue with mine. He explores. He tastes. Slow and seductive and bewildering until I’m moaning again and again.

With his claws, he tears the scaled bodice. It takes a mere moment, and I lurch from the baring of my upper half. Except when Kyan cups my chin and gazes into my tear-stricken eyes, he reassures me in one simple, altruistic glimpse that I have no shame to wear. Not from my scars. Not from the ink transcribed upon my skin. Certainly not from where the Kings marked me recently.

I am the beginning of their dark dream fulfilled.

When Kyan drags his tongue across my jaw, I arch, tilting my neck so he may bring his hot breath and silky tongue to my throat. I whimper as he cups my breasts and fondles, treasuring the smaller mounds and pinching my nipples, which are already erect from the cold. A flush spreads into my breasts from his attentiveness. And soon enough, I’m clutching his hair, tugging at the strands as he lavishes my breasts with his tongue…and teeth.

Drago ravished my breasts. Merikh practically raped them. Kyan romances them. He pours a heat of attention from breath to nibbling teeth, from suckling lips to flicking tongue until the tips are swollen and erect.

He steps back and grins as if to admire his work. Instead of shrinking, I thrust out my chest so he may appreciate the well-earned spectacle. “Kyan…” I murmur, wanting to lose myself in the dark of his eyes like the moon's mysterious side.

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