Page 28 of The Surrender

“If anyone’s getting breakfast, it’s me,” barks Drago, his footsteps thundering closer to the bed.

I fling the sheet back, surprising them all. “Oh, will you?” I sweetly ask, tilting my head to the side. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed before. Pancakes please?”

Drago loosens the fist he’s brandished at his side. All the muscles in his neck relax as he gazes at me. He blinks, and scales retreat into his skin.

Before me, Kyan throws his head back with laughter blowing through his nostrils. His fingers lower to poise on my hips, but I focus on Drago first.

To drive it home, I raise my hands to cup my cheeks and give my dragon the best pouty, puppy face I possibly can.

“I am the High King of the Waste,” he forces the weak excuse out while a muscle bounces in his cheek from how his eyes roam across my body.

“But I’m still your queen, aren’t I?”

His jaw drops. Mayce shifts toward him and elbows his side. “Our little queen desires pancakes, Drago.”

“And clotted cream with fruit?” I dare to add and then flick my eyes to Mayce. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly, my lord Mayce, I would love more of the dew bread but with some fresh honeycomb. I promise to share...”

He lifts a brow, and my heartbeat quickens, flutters - like an eclipse of little spirit moths. Just as the fae grips Drago’s collar and practically drags him out of the room, I swing my eyes back to Merikh who grips my throat in a firm warning. Oh, gods, I swallow the aching lump in my throat from how sinful he is with his dark waves fracturing his hooded eyes but not disguising the obvious grimace.

“Little dove, if you even think about-”

I lurch and press my lips to his. Smile when his dick twitches along my hip. At first, he digs his fingers into my waist like he’s going to jerk me off him, but the moment I lick the seam of his dissenting lips, he relents. He pulls me into his lap instead, and I wrap my arms around his neck and take him deeper until his tongue lashes mine.

Ugh, I swallow, forcing myself to deny my inner muscles clenching. And the tiny pulses between my thighs. Instead, I touch my brow to Merikh’s and break from his mouth to plead, “Shift mentioned gold-berries the other day. The most celestial fruit ever to grace the realm of angels.”

He rubs the magic cross along my clit, and I resist the urge to melt against him. Especially with Kyan kissing the back of my shoulders and tracing the swirling patterns of my tattoos.

My belly rumbles again. Food. Food. Food. I need food first.

So, I lean in and kiss Merikh’s cheek. “You like to call me little dove. But did you know male birds will work their asses off to forage for food and bring their mates little gifts of seeds or berries during the mating phase? Well, your little dove is truly, very hungry. If you bring me some gold-berries, I’ll feed them to you one by one and suck the juice from your lips before I have you for dessert,” I hint and lower my hand toward his groin.

With a deep growl, Merikh seizes my wrist and forces my hand to my back. I love the way the groan in his chest vibrates into my breasts, prompting the flesh to grow heavier and my nipples to pucker.

At first, his eyes darken with intensity. All his ridged muscles cord tighter. I wonder if he’s about to turn me over his knee and spank me for my impudence. Even the scars on his body seem to throb. And the unholy madness in his eyes almost makes me want to drop to my knees, fold my lips around his crown, and slowly and steadily worship his cock like the unworthy slut that I am.

“I’ll get you the damn berries,” he says through clenched teeth, but I recognize the gravelly timbre in his voice.

My heart does a leap in my chest, and I couldn't care less how Merikh shoves me at Kyan before getting up with every inch of that impossible rod bouncing. I lean into Kyan, feeling a delightful pleasure twinging inside me at the thought of these kings, these gods waiting on me hand and foot.

One left.

I turn to Kyan and swallow, parting my lips. I try not to swoon at how beautiful he is in the morning with his messy dark hair, the shadow of stubble upon his sculpted jaw, the masculine tower of his neck, and those full lips pressing into a tight seam.

He snaps his wings against his back and cups my chin. “Tread carefully, Quinny. It is my Court of Storms you reside in. And there are worse disciplines than the mountaintop.”

“I-I just wanted to thank you...for last night.” My lower lip trembles from my pronouncement because I can’t drop my face with him clutching my chin.

Kyan toys with the ends of my hair, but the shadows swarming around his eyes and the pulsing of his wings speak volumes. “For what?”

“For coming back.”

Before I can even blink, Kyan has me pinned. He straddles me, forcing my wrists to each side of my body. And...oh, savage mercies, he splays his wings. Their great, vast shadows nearly eclipse the entire room. The early gray light streaming through the windows conspires to paint him in a dangerous silhouette. Like some phantasm of an ancient angel god.

Tears sting my eyes as he presses in on me, and I swear he’s feasting on my vulnerability. “Listen, Quinny. I know every one of my feathers. I know their shape. I know the measurements of their length, width, and circumference. I have memorized each pulsing muscle I’ve honed within my wings. I understand the celestial essence of my blood that fills them...and the nature of my very wing bones, the divine skeleton. So, when I swear upon my very wings that I will always come for you, you must trust me.” He traces my lips, and I blink back tears from the emotion welling up inside me as he finishes, “You must believe with every fiber of your spirit. Don’t fight it by thinking you are unworthy...”

When he leans in to kiss me, I close my weeping eyes and part my lips to receive him - only to hear the maniacal lilt and labored breath across my mouth. "Poor darling, poor soul, how the fallen angel lies so. He believed one once and paid the price. And your ghost will never suffice. How could you ever share their paradise?"

Icy fear terrorizes my veins as Shadow rubs his lips across mine, a kiss far too tender and genuine for his words to be a lie. “And what of you, Shadow? What do you believe?” I redirect, jutting my chin out to accuse him. “What do you want?”

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