Page 46 of The Surrender

She may look exhausted, but Quinny’s eyes are alert and desperate the moment I haul Drago’s bloodied body into the room. “Didn’t have enough time to get him to the lake,” I snort and as the dragon shifter goes boneless in my arms. “No more second honey-cake helpings for you.”

Quintessa rushes to his side while I dump his ass on the floor. It took a blood transfer from me and him shifting into half-form for me to get him this far.

Drago doubles over but falls onto his back, coughing, rumbling his anger, “You used my ass for bait, feather-boy. I’d say you owe me all the honey cakes I want.”

“Drago!” Her exclaimed whisper echoes through the room, enough to silence us all.

As usual, Merikh lingers in the shadows, but judging by the subtle tension in his shoulders, I know he didn’t drink her blood. I offer him an approving nod as my Quinny kneels before the dragon, careless if he bleeds on her new gown.

“No carrying on now, Tessie,” he purrs huskily and cups the side of her face with his hand, smearing blood and soil onto her pearly gray skin. “Come! Sit on my cock. Or both of them. That will make me feel better.”

Her tears are a torment as she cradles his head and narrows her eyes. “Burning gods, Drago!” she whimpers and touches her sweet lips to his brow. Gets the bastard’s scales flexing even if the action just triggers more blood to gush.

I snap my wings tight to my back and harden my stomach, unashamed of what I had to do. Drago could last long enough to get back to Quinny. The villagers, my people would not have. And they deserve better than the miserable existence they’ve been cursed to bear.

“I’ll be burning soon enough once that tight, pretty cunt is wrapped around both my cocks and dripping all over me,” growls the asinine alpha while nudging her with his muzzle.

She blows irritated breath through her nostrils and palms the deep gash in his side where the roc gored him. “I’ll sit on your cocks all you want after I heal you, you damn dragon!”

I chuff a laugh but flex all my muscles the second she purposefully drags her palm along the keen edge of one flaring scale. Steeling my spine, I set my jaw, hoping she won’t default to her prior instincts. But the tension in my muscles alleviates because she only cuts herself once.

Gods, she looks gorgeous. Even with my brother’s blood soaking into her gown, she arches her neck up to thrust out her lovely, plump bosom and closes her eyes with the host of her delicate dark gray lashes feathering her upper cheeks.

Even Merikh is not untouched by her. As the thin streams of vym spiderweb from her skin, my partner advances toward her from the shadows. I mark him. How he’s tilted his head to study her.

Only Mayce has not returned yet, but I expect he will soon since the roc is taken care of. Fucking Fae in all his fashionable finery is probably soaking up all the attention as he designates portions of the roc prize to each sector in the massive village. Not that it’s uncommon for us gods to delegate minor duties to each other in the event of the main ruler’s absence.

No sooner do I speak than the Fae bursts through the door, his hair a golden flustered storm. Looks like the messenger I sent about the tragedy of his partner’s injuries reached him. I raise my hand, signaling to him not to disturb Quintessa. Drago has passed out by now, but one gesture from me assures Mayce that his partner is very much alive.

With the very threads of his robes frazzled, Mayce pauses to zero in on her. Her lips continue in silent prayer while she surges her vym to repair Drago’s internal organs first. Sweat sheens her brow as she moves to his muscles.

Damn, I love how those shimmery gray ribbons gush from her veins and kindle all the ink on her flesh. Love the way her tattoos swirl like the threads of a flying tapestry. No denying how her essence—all that glorious energy—is like a siren call to me and my brothers. Possessive aggression grips my spine at the thought of anyone harming her. I’d kill them slowly. Torturously.

Drago fell under her spell the second she stabbed him. Mayce maintains a good front, grounded as always, but it wouldn’t take much for him. Merikh is hot and cold. But his infatuation is unshakable...even if he wars between fucking her and ripping her apart bit by bit until he reaches the sacred chamber of her warm-blooded, scarified heart.

And I...

I am the storm that possesses her and protects her in the eye.

Sensing the rise of the demon inside me, I press my lips into a hard seam. Ironic since he rarely announces himself.

She is the storm who will destroy you, Kyan. She will take everything from you as Erya did. And you will be left with nothing but yours truly once again.

Shut the fuck up. I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists.

Nothing but your ever faithful and loyal advocate.

Or perhaps, she is my truest test, my leap of faith.

Oh, what a leap you must do, Kyan. And we both know you are too broken to leap such a height...and survive.

Shoving him down, grateful when he decides to stay there, I turn back to Quinny, brow creasing in concern.

Fatigue weighs her down as she finishes the muscles and knits his perforated flesh. I sense she’s saving the last burst of her vym for his blood. My chest caves in when her head lulls forward. Throat constricting, I step forward, but Merikh crosses the distance between us in less than a second. And seizes my arm, thrusting me back. Damned vampire and his speed. I sharpen my eyes against his but lose the battle before it’s even begun.

Merikh could stare down the devil himself. And make him shrivel like a worm.

When I swing my eyes back to her, I understand why he forbade me. A sudden surge of power has engulfed her. I know the source well. I feel the smirk tugging at the one corner of my lips, but the demon inside me is not impressed with how Quintessa has coupled my power with hers. My chest throbs like the damned Shadow is battering it. But my smile grows at how she plays my blood like a beautiful harp, calling my wind to her. I’ll give her my strength.

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