Page 29 of The Surrender

Those deep-set eyes shift between mine, and I wonder if his stare could level me until I implode in on myself. It’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed him faltering.

But I don’t get to respond as Drago and the others file into the room, bearing silver trays heaped with all the food I requested.

Not allowing me to escape, Kyan draws me onto his lap until my back presses to his heated chest. And with his possessive wings curving around my body, I eagerly lunge for the nearest silver tray and stab my fork into the pancakes.

No matter what Shadow said about this other “one” in Kyan’s past, I won’t let him, either of them, spoil my ravenous appetite.

I devour every morsel of food. And the Kings watch me the whole time.

21

“Our little Quinny is an enigma...”

KYAN

I didn’t get to see her expression the first time. But I will forever treasure this one.

After her breakfast in bed, followed by some dessert, I decided it was high time to escort our little queen to the village. After Steward Eyn-Amaru attended to her, I told my brothers to wait in the hall while I fetched Quinny.

I approach her from behind. The gray light of the Waste morning streams through the windows to touch the edges of her body, nearly haloing her in its glow. If this were my land, the starlight would eclipse everything else but her. She would become its blinding light.

Such a pretty soul, a delight for the eyes, but so was Erya, why are you surprised?

I cage a growl while the muscles in my wings harden and my spine bristles. If Quinny notices the disturbance in the mirror’s reflection before her, she says nothing. For centuries, he hardly bothered with me, content with giving in to our basest and carnal natures. But ever since Erya, the fallen one inside me has become a venom to poison every scrap of my being, including my heart. Or at the very least, its lining or strings. I cannot dream like I used to.

Instead, I focus on the dream before me.

A hum of approval vibrates in my chest as I approach her from behind and cup her shoulders. My wings showcase my growing desire, and she dips her chin ever so slightly, blushing at her notice.

“Kyan, this is...,” she begins, her voice soft and treading, the corner of her mouth creasing in a hesitance bred of emotion, “...too much,” she finishes in a whisper.

What is perhaps worse than whatever deep-rooted well of dark emotions her response stems from are her tears. They could never taint her lashes by wetting the delicate strands. But they drive a fucking devil harpoon right into my heart.

Stiffening, I lock my jaw and press my fingers harder upon her shoulders to firmly state, “A queen must go to her subjects in style, Quintessa.”

She purses her lips, and as much as I narrow my eyes and hold back the annoyed sigh, I flare my nostrils and wave a hand, permitting her to speak.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but I do not believe you have given me a crown...yet.”

Oh, she dares to lift her eyes to mine. Eyes glinting. One corner of her mouth teasing into a beguiling smirk. This is where she feels safe—returning to lightening what is dark just as stars shine greatest in the deepest of nights.

Hmm, sweet Kyan. Erya did not desire a crown. What a curious, dastardly soul this one is! What games she plays with us monstrous immortals!

Of course, Erya did not desire a crown, I almost bark at him. She had far other things in mind.

Posturing to my greatest of heights, I resume my authority. She will not dethrone me. “I may punish you for that impertinent and assuming comment later, Quinny dear.” Gods, the way she lifts her shoulders, her entire countenance perking at the idea, sends a wealth of heat surging to my groin. I clear my throat and thread my fingers through a few of her strands that Steward Eyn-Amaru coiled with silver sprite thread. “You may not bear royal blood, but you represent the future of the Court of Storms. Such a future remains but a breath, but I will still attire you in the finest gowns from the winged peoples of the wind of my ancient realm, however lost to me.”

“I know better not to ask how you come to have these, but will you tell me more about your realm sometime?”

Her glowing eyes, adorned in black and silver liner, plead with mine, and she holds her breath. Her quickening pulse catches my attention, but my gaze roams lower to her lithe throat. At its base, celestial appliques seal winged patterns spiral and curl to frolic with the ink beautifying her scars. Her chest tightens from her unconstrained breath. With how tightly she holds herself, feeble hopes hovering between us, her breasts plump. My cock throbs. My demon seethes.

Fuck, I have no base of comparison for this. Erya told me countless stories of her life, dreams, and her passions. Our little Quinny is an enigma wrapped in ink and scars with a burning desire to match the lust of four gods.

Guard the deepest wounds of your heart. Lest she sink her teeth in and rip you apart! he cackles, resonating the laughter in my mind.

And with those simple words reminding me of my dark past—

Our dark past!

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