Page 47 of Death Comes for Her
I choked on the depths of my longing. It flooded my tongue, cloying and bittersweet, a substance I couldn’t spit out. Forced to choke on it, swallow it, trembling from the efficacy of those feelings, I came undone as if the thread of my being had come loose and two deft hands had grabbed hold and pulled me apart.
The feeling of their cocks plunging inside me, separated by a thin wall inside me, drove me wild. In and out, over and over, wet and throbbing as my holes sucked them in and clenched with desperation. My shaking increased. I keened loudly, voice shrill and sharp as I quivered between them.
“That’s it, princess, come for us. Come on our cocks,” Simon whispered, almost pleading for me to relent.
“Be a good little slut and fucking come. I want to feel that hot, tight cunt drenching my cock,” Dante barked his command.
And my body bent to obey them as if it had no other choice—my traitorous flesh tingled, glowed, burned as an eruption of sensation swept through my core. A maelstrom of euphoria gripped me, shook me, threatened to topple the foundations of my sanity. Those sensations lifted me on a wave higher than theheavens before releasing me, and I fell back to the surface of the world, crashing back into my sweating, heaving, shaking body.
Dante and Simon had both groaned and fucked their cum deeper into me as I swam in the hysteria of my orgasm. Swaying, trapped between them, I floated mindlessly in a cloud of satisfaction as their combined cum dripped from my cunt and ass, mingling to coat my thighs.
“Good gods, you are utterly divine, you perfect, perfect whore.” Dante kissed my cheek as I collapsed on the bed beside him.
Simon laid on his side, taking the spot behind me so I remained sandwiched between them. His cool fingers caught a loose strand of hair stuck to my cheek and brushed it behind the pointed tip of my ear. “She’s a perfect princess. You are such a good girl, Sierra.” He kissed my temple, humming softly.
The undertones in his voice as he used that endearment snagged at my thoughts. Over the course of the past few days, it had slipped from both vampires at random intervals. I hated to admit that I preferred being referred to aspetoverprincess. Paired with their increasing questions and shared glances.
They knew. Theyknew.
I shot upright, gasping for breath. A set of hazel eyes and a swirling pool of blue snapped to me at the sudden movement. I shoved off their hands, disentangled our legs and scrambled down the bed as quickly as my weakened limbs allowed.
“Where’s the fire, pet?” Dante chortled. He watched me with the attentive stare of a hawk as I stumbled around for my dress.
I clutched the blue fabric to my chest, eyes flicking between the dark and pale vampires.
Simon regarded me coolly, face blank of any outward emotions. His lips thinned into a line, and the expression seemed to pull a string of words from me without my permission.
“Please, you can’t tell him. Don’t tell him who I am. I’m begging you.” My hands shook so aggressively they were nearly vibrating as I clumsily tugged on my dress. “He’ll kill me. Frankly, I don’t understand why either of you haven’t. But you can’t—”
“Tell who, Sierra?” Simon’s frigid voice set my teeth on edge.
“Please—Please don’t tell your Grandmaker.”
“Don’t tell him what?” Dante rose from the bed, leisurely stepping into his trousers as if he had all the time in the world. Simon rolled off the other end of the mattress, doing the same.
“You fucking know what,” I snapped.
“We figured it out not too long ago, but we said nothing, and had no intention of saying anything on the matter. At least not to Sanctus.” Simon carded his fingers through his hair, ensuring the white strands were out of his perfectly sharp face. He crossed the room, and I stepped away, keeping him in my line of sight. His pale fingers danced over a stack of books on the desk in the corner of the room before tapping on one. “I keep a collection of books from the Lorevain palace. Seemed a shame for all those ancient tomes to go to waste.”
My spine straightened as if I’d been electrocuted. The elevated beating of my heart almost choked me. It fluttered like a manic bird at the base of my throat, and my blood went cold under my skin.
I recognized the thick white and gold book in his hands. He didn’t break eye contact with me as he flipped open to a marked page toward the end. Simon recited the information on the page I knew by heart. “King Erridem Lorevain sired an heir, a daughter, Sierraphina Lorevain. Twenty-eight years ago. She would have been eighteen or nineteen on the Everdark Morning when we stormed the palace with Sanctus Ambrose.”
“That day we found King Erridem holding a dagger, the very one that you stole from me, already coated in fairy blood. Yet nowounded princess in sight. Nothing more than a pile of gold dust where, presumably, six golden wings had burned while their former owner fled the palace,” Dante added.
“Only Monarchs had six wings,” Simon continued. “You have six scars on your back. Your age matches that of the lost princess.”
“As does your name. Shortened only.”
“Not to mention the family resemblance. The lustrous golden hair, the vibrant golden eyes.” He set the book back down. “Your knowledge and impeccable manners and etiquette—well, when you choose to utilize them, you wild thing.”
“If you’d stayed hidden among humans, you might have gotten away for a long time. Your father granted you some assistance in keeping you hidden. It was a mercy to sever your wings, a cruel one, but it helped you hide. I have to respect the old fuck for that.”
“And when you burned the Queen’s wings in Dante’s office. Only family would endeavor to do such an act with potential consequences looming overhead. ‘Ashes to ashes and dust to dust’ is an important last rite for fair folk. A grieving daughter would want to grant her mother that blessing.”
The world cracked open beneath my feet, threatening to gobble me up into the darkest pits of anguish. Claws of dread raked down my spine as shadows rose in my chest.
“What are you going to do to me?” I raised a shaking hand as if to ward them off, taking shaking steps to the bedroom door.
