by Angel Lawson
“Sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
“You’ll force her hand.” He licks his lips. “Unless you want to bargain.”
“I’m prepared for whatever she’s got planned.” Thank the gods Agis isn’t here. I’d be covered in black.
He smiles and shrugs as though it doesn’t matter to him.
“If you’re not getting into bed with me, go, I’ve got things to do.”
I leave through the main door, not the stairwell, because I’m not a servant. One thing I know for certain, Roland is not part of the balance. I’m still not sure about Marshal, but there’s none of the push-pull that exists between us whenever we cross paths. The heat, the confusion, the fight for control. Same with Agis, who I know in my heart is mine, he just has to get past whatever trauma is holding him back.
Roland is our enemy.
His heart is black.
His soul is empty.
And he needs to be eliminated.
22
Rupert
All day.
That’s how long I’ve been hard.
It started in the middle of the night, with a gentle breeze on my neck and ending with a ball-shattering orgasm. I don’t know who Hildi was screwing, but it was good.
My dick reacts the same when I see her, regardless of the conditions. In the training room, seeing her in the dining hall, a glimpse in the library.
I’ve jerked off twice already (not including the wet dream) and after I get back to my room, I settle onto the couch and unbutton my trousers.
Back when I was a prince, I could snap my fingers and a woman would appear. Any size, shape, color, or combination. They’d arrive without a fuss and let me do whatever I wanted. They’d suck me off, let me come on their tits, offer any and every hole. It was boring. I don’t think I tugged my own cock until after I’d become Immortal. Battlefields have long lulls and very few women. A good soldier learns to adapt.
All of that has changed with Hildi. She’s the one that haunts my dreams and waking hours. I think of shiny blonde hair. Her curvy, toned figure. The swell of her breasts and the roundness of her backside. I think about her. Dream of her mouth. And now, for the millionth time of the day, I fantasize that I’m man enough to fulfill her needs.
Even so, I feel the slightest hint of shame as I slide my hand beneath my shorts and pull out my already-erect cock. A real man would find his woman and fuck her rightfully, not sit in the shadows by the fire, rubbing one off.
I rest my head on the cushion and stroke down my length, having no problem conjuring up a million different images of Hildi. I focus on her lips, the way they’re dark pink and full. How they twist when she’s thinking or how she bites down on the bottom one when she’s curious. I recall their taste, the feel of them against mine; plump and firm. I imagine what they’d look like wrapped around my cock, what her tongue would feel like. Warm. Good. Best. That’s how it would feel. So warm, so good, so best—
The door wrenches open and slams. I jerk up and reach for a pillow, covering my lap. Hildi stands in my room, very agitated and wearing very little clothing.
I pinch my thigh to see if this is a dream.
Ouch. Fuck.
“Just once today it would be nice if someone could be absolutely honest with me. No game play. No fucking around.”
“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Agis.” She starts pacing, looking like an amazon in those heels. The edge of her ass hangs from her very tight shorts. “You know how he is with everything. And then Roland—”
I sit up, wincing at the pain in my crotch. “You saw Roland.”
“Yes. He summoned me. Forced me into this ridiculous outfit, and then made me bring him his snack.” She tugs at the braids in her hair and they fall in waves around her shoulders. “It was all a ruse, of course, to get me to give them the key in exchange for cutting back on Victorine’s punishments.”
Anger bubbles in my chest. “What did you do?”
“I told him to fuck off. He’s a godsdamned pig.” She glances over at me, taking me in for the first time since she walked in. “What are you doing?”
“Just sitting here.”
She strides over, stopping before me, and my eyes go straight to her chest. The round swell of her tits spills through the V of the vest. Annnnnd, I’m hard again.
“You’re never just sitting here.” She looks around. “You’re not even reading a book.”
I swallow thickly, willing my body to behave. That’s the one thing I don’t have control over. Never have.
“Rupert.”
She leans forward, resting one hand on the back of the couch. Her face, those lips, her tits, are inches from me, and I fight the urge to shift.
I’ve faced down kings and their armies, dragons and gods.
I cannot beat this woman.
Hildi reaches for the pillow and moves it aside, revealing my unbuttoned pants and my rock-hard cock. Her blazing blue eyes hold mine.
“Were you pleasuring yourself?”
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“You.”
“Doing what? Fucking me? Bending me over the chair? Bouncing on your cock?”
I lift my hand and run my thumb down her cheek, then graze it over her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out and licks it.
“Is that what you want, Rupert? For me to suck your cock?”
She’s vulgar. Raw. Honest. It’s like she’s reached through my chest and she’s holding my heart in her hand. She wants the truth. She wants me.
“Yes.”
“All you had to do was ask.”
Her hands move to the bottom of my shirt, pushing it up and over my head. She bends, darting her tongue out to lick my nipple. A tremor runs through my body as she stands and fingers the buttons on her vest, slowly unfastening each one.
Oh, she’ll do what I ask, but she sure as hell won’t make it easy.
23
Hildi
Wide-eyed and full of wonder.
That’s what Rupert looks like, sitting on the couch half-naked and fully erect. I walked in here so pissed, so enraged that I hadn’t even noticed he was in the middle of jerking off. That’s one way of getting my mind off everything.
The best way.
I stand before him now, looking at his lean body. He’s physically younger than the others. Stunted at the age of his death—twenty-one. He’s missing the thickness of the others. Bulk that comes with age. Instead, he’s long lines and scattered hair. He’s cut. Virile. Eager.
I unfasten the buttons on this stupid vest, letting it hang open. I’m thrilled someone else gets the pleasure of seeing me in it other than Roland. Rupert’s eyes burn into my skin, passionate and hungry.
I start to kick off the shoes when he says, “Keep them on.”
“As you wish.”
I’ll do whatever he wants, any way he wants, I just want him to be part of this.
I bend over him again, kissing his mouth. Warm fingers graze the underside of my breasts, sending a tingle across my skin. He explores my body, and I do the same to him. Kissing his neck, his smooth shoulders, his chest. I linger on his nipples, they seem overly sensitive, and he hisses in delight.
“Hold on,” I whisper, knowing he’s quick to blow. But if the scene I walked in on says anything, he’s been working on his stamina.
I get on my knees, kissing down his stomach, licking his belly button, grazing my teeth over his hip bones. He rises up, seeking friction, seeking warmth.
I wrap my hand around him, and he gulps down air.
His fingers thread through my hair, and he tugs me forward, desperate.
I lick his tip, tasting the salty fluid dripping down the side, and he shudders beneath me like a volcano, trembling under the surface. I know I can’t drag this out, I’m probably already pushing his limits, so I slide my tongue down his shaft getting him slippery wet and swallowing him whole. He reacts instantly, lurching
forward, but he’s not the first dick I’ve had in my mouth—not even the biggest, although he’s well-endowed.
Perfectly endowed.
I rest a hand on his stomach, easing him back down. His hand stays in my hair, but the grip is softer.
Together we set the pace, mostly off the rhythm of his breathing, off the pull of my hair, off the thrust of his hips. My body grows warm, lost in the feeling of my own arousal, the dampening between my legs, the ache in my nipples. He settles in nicely, trusting, and when he starts to gain speed, his breathing growing erratic, his hands sliding from my hair to my neck, I brace for him; for the intensity, for the release.
When it comes I’m not ready, his cock slamming into the back of my throat, his cum hot and steady. I gulp it down, licking my lips, and before I can even check on him he’s pulled me off the ground and into his lap.
“The gods sent you for sure,” he says, kissing my mouth, my jaw, my neck. His fingers trail over my hard, pebbled nipples. “That was nothing I’ve experienced before.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe that. You were a prince. You could have anyone.”
He touches my chin with shaking fingers. “Never have I had someone that wanted me for me. That looked past the crown, looked past my blade, for the man.”
I take his face in my hands, looking deep into his eyes.
“I see you.”
He nods. “I know.”
He kisses me again, less desperate than ever before. More sure. He pulls back and says the words that pierce my soul. “Thank you.”
24
Hildi
There’s a shift over the next few days. I’m stronger. Steadier. And as much as I love sex, I’d never believe that giving a killer blow job would change things for me, but I’ll say it.
Blow jobs are epic.
When the knock or note comes, giving me my shitty assignment for the day; scrubbing toilets, washing windows, taking out trash, I think of Rupert’s face when he came, the look of peace that smoothed his generally tense features. It’s a good distraction.
I roll the mop bucket back to the cleaning supply closet and empty it; rinsing out the mop and putting everything away. The Alante are still finishing their chores. Mine don’t always take as long—they’re for maximum humiliation and pain. Today I had to mop up the entrance to the main building, after students managed, one-by-one, to enter with muddy boots.
As far as I know, it doesn’t rain at the Academy.
But whatever. This is the game I’ve chosen to play with Roland and Victorine. I keep the key and refuse to go to the challenges. They give me these crappy jobs. The cycle repeats while I try to buy a little time to let the guys build their army.
I plan to change quickly, out of the too-small maid’s uniform and into my regular clothes. I’m headed to the training room—the secret one. Our members have grown over the past few days, mostly recruited by Luke and Darius. Word is spreading amongst the losers of the challenges that there’s a safe place to heal and fight back against the oppressive administration.
My shirt is halfway off when a voice says, “Karlee sent this up.”
I jump, rattled at seeing the Alante standing behind me with a wide, covered tray.
“Seriously? I just finished.” I eye the tray. “To the Headmaster’s room, I’m assuming.”
“No.” I see the fear in her eyes.
“Victorine?”
She nods.
Not what I wanted to do today. I re-tuck my shirt and grab the tray. It’s heavy and there’s a rancid, rotten smell that emits from under the cover. My already tired arms ache as I get to the top of the long, winding staircase that goes to her rooms.
I knock on the door and it swings open with a creak. The reek hits me first, a putrid smell that permeates the room. The room is a mess, a gooey substance clumps on the floor, the nest a conglomeration of trash and debris. Victorine’s not inside, but someone else stands by the open window, seeking fresh air: Marshal. A look of absolute displeasure mars his pretty face. His eyes go to the tray in my hands and his nostrils flare, turning his expression more sour.
“Whatever’s under that lid—I don’t want any.”
Something we agree on. “Yeah, me either.”
I walk over to a small wooden desk pushed against the wall and set the tray down. I feel Marshal watching me—closely.
“What are you doing up here?” I ask, not hiding my irritation at seeing him. I’m still a little bitter about him calling me a slut.
He shrugs and toes the nest. A sticky residue clings to the tip of his boot. “Just looking.”
“For what?”
“A weakness.”
I look around the dirty room, the matted, gooey nest. Clumps of feathers are in the bottom, either providing a soft cushion or maybe something worse. “Did she…did something molt there?”
His eyebrow raises. “At night. Every night.”
That explains some of the smell. “What is she?”
“A Harpy, or some godsforsaken version.” He nods at the tray of food. “Those are dead animals. She eats them raw.”
And….that explains the rest. My stomach churns. “Ew.”
“Yeah,” he says, pushing back his golden hair, “it’s a compromise. She started the challenges as a way to feed—Roland put a stop to it. He needs the manpower.”
I feel even more nauseous. “She eats people?”
“She’s a carnivore, Hildi, she eats flesh, but she’ll take a soul or two, as well.”
I exhale and ask the question that’s been nagging at me for weeks. “Why are you aligned with these people?”
His green eyes flick to mine. “You know why.”
“Power is pointless if you’re surrounded by disgusting, depraved people.” Not that I’m sure we’re talking about people anymore.
“You forgot, I am disgusting and depraved.”
He says it in a low, convincing drawl, but I’m not buying it. Not completely.
“True,” I admit, “so what’s her weakness?”
“After much consideration, I think there is only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
I almost laugh. “Why? Because I have the key?”
He slowly walks across the room, avoiding the slippery mess on the floor. He stops right in front of me, his body lean and compelling. “Because you’re strong, because you’re a leader, because,” he sniffs my mouth, “you’re getting more so every day.”
He smells Rupert on me. It’s the weirdest superpower I’ve ever witnessed.
“Do I look powerful to you?” I say, pointing to my dirty knees and the ridiculous outfit.
He steps forward and catches my face in his warm, smooth hands. I hate to admit, my knees wobble under his touch. “More than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.”
As always, being close to Marshal makes my body instantly burn. It’s an unquenchable flame between us. No water, no allegiance, no level of depravity seems to be able to stop it. Except…something between us feels off. Sure, it’s a compliment. Maybe. Since when does Marshal compliment me? The last time we spoke, he called me a slut. I called him a pig. It’s what we do.
Stroking my ego, telling me I’m the one with the power… No. Something is wrong. The request for food. Marshal lying in wait. I look around the room. The matted nest that Victorine would never want me to see. The rotten meat. It’s too easy. Too convenient.
“Why are you really here?” I ask, feeling the hair on my neck stand on end. I think of a better question. “Why am I really here?”
He smiles sympathetically. “Because it’s the farthest place in the building away from your room.”
I pull away and stumble toward the door. “You’re distracting me?”
He doesn’t speak, but his eyes flash with warning.
For me? For her? For all of us.
I run down the stairs as fast as I can, racing down the halls, toward the dormitory. A huddle of students cluster
around the open doorway.
“Move!” I yell, pushing them aside. “Get out of the way.”
The room is ransacked. Clothes strewn all over the floor. The desk drawers flipped over, the closet demolished. All of Elizabeth’s makeup and jewelry are smashed, like someone stomped on them with a boot. The bed linens are slashed, mattresses overturned. The only thing left unbothered is my trunk and the top has gouge marks in it. They tried.
“Gods,” a voice says behind me. I turn and face Elizabeth. Luke is with her. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I say, skirting around her and slamming the door in the faces of our nosy neighbors—not one that will provide any useful information about who did this. “I just got here. I think they were looking for it.” I swallow. “The key.”
Luke’s eyes bug. “It’s not here, is it?”
I shake my head.
My roommate wanders around the room, picking up a broken bottle of perfume and a shredded shirt.
“We were in the training room when Felipe came in—said something was going on down here.” Luke looks at me. “Where were you?”
“Being distracted.” I walk over to the trunk and touch the gouges. I flip the latch and it opens easily. I look inside and find my things jostled but untouched. The blade Damien forged rests on the bottom. It warms to my touch.
“Why couldn’t they get that open?” Luke asks.
“It’s enchanted, I guess.” I run my hand through my hair. “I’ve suspected. It seems to know when I need something. And right then, I needed it locked.”
“Is—is the key in there?” Elizabeth asks. She’s never asked me where I stashed it before. No one wants to know. It’s a burden I carry alone.
“No. Just personal stuff—nothing even that notable, except my sword.”
Elizabeth sighs. “So they trashed the room for nothing.”
“Looks like it.” I pick up a few pieces of clothing off the floor. “Except they did do one thing.”
“What’s that?” Luke asks, tossing a shredded book in the trash.
“They showed their desperation. Victorine wants the key. Now.”