Page 53 of Vines of the Underworld

"I did, didn't I? That was before I tasted all the pleasures you can provide, before I heard how enthralled these males were, ready to risk my wrath to have you again," another low growl, and I feel arousal heating my lower regions. "Do you think I didn't notice how every Fae in that ballroom was eyeing you? Oh, I know what they all were thinking." Another deep plunge, and I try to fight him again. He seems to enjoy it, because I hear him chuckle.

"You have to thank me, as I am the only one standing between you and that pack of rabid wolves that would feast on your blood while fucking you into a shapeless pile of meat." I feel his hard-as-rock abs press against my back and his breath in my ear.

“Did you like being taken by both of them at the same time?” the menace in his tone makes my hair stand on end. “Do not forget, little human, that you are mine, and I will fuck away the memory of them from your body.”

He unleashes himself upon me, increasing the tempo, and I whimper. I feel stretched and full, about to burst, yet I crave more. My hand glides between my legs, and I try to touch myself. Bad idea.

Iron fingers close around my throat, and I claw and dig my nails into his forearm. "Oh no, Celeste, this is not about pleasing yourself. You got plenty of that just a minute before. This is punishment." he tightens his grip, and the pantry spins around.

"Breathing is a privilege I will grant you whenever I feel like it, Celeste, "his cold voice terrifies me, and I freeze. For an instant, the world ceases to exist. His hard cock shoved up my behind, and his fingers around my neck. And twisted as it is, I find this the most exciting thing I've ever felt.

Dairell loosens his grip, allowing me to suck in air greedily while mercilessly pumping my ass. "You felt this too, Celeste?" he asks, his voice suddenly warm.

Then the moment is gone. The prince presses his face against mine, and I feel his jaw tighten.

"Oh, they were right. This hot, tight flesh can provide such exquisite pleasures. And you are very eager today, little one."

His dark tone, the steel of his body, his dominance—it is too overwhelming. I feel my pussy twitching madly, craving attention, begging to be filled. Somehow, he notices it too, his elegant nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing.

“Do you want to ask for something?” he mocks.

“Touch me,” I rasp, “touch me there.”

"Touch you there while you are full of Tarcyll's seed?" he spits again on the floor. "No. But I am feeling merciful today. I might touch you if you are a good girl. Will you be a good girl?" I nod weakly.

"Then tell me you were thinking of me when these two were taking you." A squeeze on my throat, just tight enough to remind me of the consequences if I do not oblige, urges me to speak. Fast.

"I was thinking of you," I breathe. The loud slapping of Dairell's hips against my skin reverberates beneath the tall ceiling.

"You might roll on the floor with low-borns, but you will address me with Your Majesty tonight. Now repeat it like a good girl," he demands, his aggressive assault intensifying.

“I was thinking of you, Your Majesty,” I manage, and he climaxes, burying himself deeply, his hard body aligned with mine, his mighty wings reaching the tall vault of the chamber. Before I can come to my senses, he removes himself from me, turns me around so our eyes meet, and smirks.

“All filled now,” he chuckles, “you have been a good girl.”

His gloved hands spread my thighs, and his knuckles brush against my clit. I gasp, my slit twitching with desperate need. I whimper.

“You want that filled, don't you,” he asks in a low voice and suddenly produces a dagger with a hilt encrusted with colorful gems. Its blade is hidden in a filigree golden sheath, yet it's terrifying despite its beauty.

Is he sick of my games and intends to punish me more seriously? Unpredictable and dangerous as this male is, I must be ready for anything. His knuckles still rubbing my nub, he grabs the tiny weapon by the sheath and slowly plunges the bejeweled hilt into my pussy.

Oh my…

“Here, it is filled, and my hands are still clean,” he smiles darkly and starts sliding the handle in and out of me. I grind my teeth. It is cold, yet the sensation of the uneven surface and all the gems gliding in and out of my entrance is oddly exciting. My hips adapt to the rhythm of his moves, and soon enough, I grind against his hand.

Crystal sweat beads appear on his high brow, and when I shatter before him, a hint of awe peeks from the depths of those otherworldly aquamarine eyes.

I convulse, releasing a massive wave of energy, and he watches me.

“Will you let me go back home when all this is over?” I ask as soon as I am able to speak, determined to exploit the sudden softness in his gaze.

A cruel smile stretches his lips, and he looks down at me. “Let's see if you will survive this and if there will be a home to return to when this is over,” he declares and leaves the room, leaving me cold, terrified, and alone.

I spend the following days idling in my room. Oddly, Dairell visits me every day, surprisingly talkative. He holds heated monologues about the strategies agreed upon with the other kingdoms. It seems that Tarcyll and Diaphonus have already left for their lands to build wards that would be activated by the arcane blast I will release, to prepare the armies, and to prompt the mages. They will meet us at the Sentinel in a week to perform the Ritual.

The Ritual, he calls it.

It has an ominous sound to it, but I know the hidden meaning behind it. It’s more like the mating with these four feral Fae males. The thought of it sends shivers of anticipation and terror down my spine.

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