Page 2 of The Surrender

Smiling, the fallen angel closes the distance between us, rips the tresses of my skirt to bare me, then shoves his pants down to free his massive and hard erection. I open my mouth, but he captures it with his, grinds against me, and overwhelms me. It’s not long before my knees buckle, and he’s lowering me to the floor.

Firelight gilds our flesh. Kyan doesn’t wait for me to speak any words. He simply tunnels into me. I give a series of moans to overlap his deep groans as he pushes and pushes that beast of a cock into me, stretching my wanton and wet lips. His mouth makes love to mine. That tongue tantalizes and seduces until they twirl together. Not out of conquest but out of a desire for a bond that runs deeper than even the soul.

I want to feel his darkness. I want him to imprison me within his trauma. I want to know every piece of his nightmares and history. Just as I long to know every feather and tendril of a feather. Ultimately, he will not deny me that, all of that.

I am the ghost binding the four monster gods. I am their ultimate nightmare.

As I orgasm, climaxing with lightning rushing up my spine, spinning a whirlwind of electric particles into my nerve endings, I scream Kyan's name and remember one significant thing.

I amnottheir happily ever after. I am their dark and deadly once upon a time…

2

Kyan will be far different.

QUINTESSA

Pain invades my dreams, turning them to nightmares. As if I’m feeling an echo of the pain, but it splinters into me all the same. I’ve only ever experienced a fraction of this pain whenever I let the boys of the Borderlands fuck me. A little pressure. A little stealing of my breath. Nothing like this.

A dark force penetrates me, pierces me. Rearranges my intestines, scrambles all thoughts to nightmares. It hurts to stand, so I stumble and stagger to my feet with shadows surrounding me. More pain comes with the second time. Stretching and straining, the flesh is too supple, too delicate, too new. It’s too much pressure. Like thorns slashing and lacerating the raw, spongy channel until it bleeds.

After, I am burning on the inside but icy cold on the outside, curling into the fetal position, whimpering. In all my years, my body—even in its numb half-ghost form—has belonged to me. Even in the depths of that root cellar where my sire imprisoned me, starved me, I still held myself.

The first time I truly felt something other than numb was with Drago. I became his willing dragon fruit, And he still seduced and pleasured my body and had my pussy fruit ripe and oozing before he split me open. And I’d loved every monstrous, scorching moment.

So, when I wake from the dream with nothing but this vague sense of icy pain, I lurch and cry out, “Qora!” Because I know it comes from her.

Clutching a hand to my throat, lowering it to my chest so I may steady my heartbeat, I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes. Qora made her choice, I remind myself. For twenty years, she was my Shadow. I can’t fault her for going with Kronos, especially not when he predicted I would leave her and choose myself and the Kings, the morsel of happiness I’d forged with Drago and them. Nor could I blame her for pursuing her happiness.

Now, I can only hope it was nothing more than a nightmare, bred of my subconscious loss of her and not anything real. Not even when she tried to hang me with a noose or shatter me by throwing me into a well could I wish my own Shadow, my own twin, any harm. To this day, I still love her. And…miss her.

Off to my left, the flames within the hearth have ebbed to mere embers. It’s then I register that Kyan is nowhere near. I shiver and grab the wool throw from the nearby leather furniture and wrap it around my nude body. The scraps of my tattered skirt and scaled bodice lie nearby, along with a couple of iridescent black feathers. I pick one up and study it with a smile. It catches the light of the dying embers, winking at me. Rubbing my fingers across the surface, I imagine Kyan is much like his wings, his feathers with their overlapping layers.

At his heart, Drago was simple to learn. My trial by fire, he is the great leader of the monster Kings. He is flame and body, heat and lust. And two great dragon cocks. I smirk at the thought of my dragon. Even if he and Thayne sent me into the afterworld for a few moments, Drago was perhaps the most uncomplicated to conquer.

I have a feeling that Kyan will be far different.

No sooner do I imagine the dynamic than a rush of wind disturbs my hair from behind, and I flinch, turning my head. I smile at Kyan, who strides into the room, but my smile falls to my jaw dropping and lips parting. The shadows surrounding his deep-set indigo eyes chill my bloodstream as he moves toward me.

It’s not even his menacing eyes but his wings. So lustrous and black as obsidian gleaming in the moonlight. I damn near fawn over them because they’re spread, ruffling while the muscles in his pinions are tensing to mirror the muscles in his naked body. No raindrops tumble from those feathers, so I would assume the rain has stopped, and he simply needed to take flight. At first, I swallow a hard knot of fear in my throat because he looks like he took a flight like this. Naked and…flying. And I wonder if he's about to do the same with me. I almost widen my eyes at the thought.

Instead, my eyes flick down to his impressive cock that juts in a straight arrow toward its desire. I blush, knowing the warmth travels to flush my breasts and harden my nipples through the throw I hold.

“Do you like my wings, pretty little Quinny?” he lilts, and I startle because the words sound like Kyan’s, but not the voice. I scrunch my brows as my insides twist. Because the voice is too high-pitched, too mischievous. Too frenzied and unhinged.

After he takes a beat and allows me to survey him in a once-over, as if establishing my lust, I open my mouth. And he advances. His shadow steals all my breath!

He gives me no opportunity to adjust. Kyan jerks me up by my underarms, thumbs biting into the soft flesh. The wool throw falls to the floor before the velvety crown of his cock rubs against my upper belly. Since he’s a head taller than myself, he must raise me up until I wind my legs around his hips.

Ravenous. It’s in every particle of his possession, from his fingers ravaging the tender flesh of my bottom to his hot breath hovering above my mouth as he holds back, making me hungry, starving for him. Fuck it all, he’s so hard and long, and I shudder as he sends a surge of wind to vibrate that supernatural muscle. And pressure it right against my clit!

I throw my head back with a piqued moan, “Kyan!”

“Sweet, dirty girl. Sweetheart. Sweetheart,” he laughs, the tone far too soprano, a maniacal giggle. “Think everyone will have your sweet heart? I’ll eat yours up before the sun rises!”

I’m already gushing, trembling, falling apart, and soaring from that vibrating crown pressing my swelling nub. “Oh, savage mercies!” I cry out and dig my nails into his shoulders as I climax. Kyan rakes pointed teeth across my throat. I imagine Merikh would pierce the skin, but Kyan doesn’t. He’s not here for blood. He’s here for flesh.

As soon as I orgasm, he shoves that hot, pulsing length into me, vibrating with the strongest intensity into the soft, spongy inner flesh. I arch my back, holding on for dear life as Kyan slams me against the closest wall and fucks me.

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