But the real kicker is the gown’s plunging neckline. It’s so low-cut that it dips almost to her belly button, boldly and intentionally displaying the scar down the center of her chest…and all four of our quintet emblems.
She’s showing off her killer body and our claim to her all at once.
“She’s—” Everett has to stop and try speaking again, his voice is so hoarse as he shakily turns and pours his own cup of wine. “She’s not even wearing a godsdamnedbra. That dress should be fucking illegal, showing off her nipples like that—and with all these people staring at her,” he groans.
Silas loosens his own tie as he speaks in fae, his voice thick.“Vitiosus minxe.”
I nod in a haze like I understood that, but I’m also pretty sure I’m on the verge of openly panting. Not like I can help it. I’ve never seen Maven in white before, but in contrast to her warm olive-toned skin and black hair, she’s striking as hell. I want to rip that dress off my mate, pin her to the ground, and fuck herright on the forest ground to punish her for looking so damn good.
When Maven looks over and sees how much she’s torturing us, her lips curve up.
“Gods above, that’s it,” Crypt grits, more worked up as he shoves off his suit coat, his hungry gaze following her as she walks toward us. “I’ll take her back to the quintet apartment through Limbo. The rest of you wankers can either meet us there or go fuck yourselves—I really don’t care.”
Maven must overhear the end of his frustration as she approaches, because she responds through the quintet bond. Whatever she says, it goes right over my head because I’m way too distracted watching the sway of her sexy, biteable hips as she walks. The silky white fabric clings to her, showing off her graceful movements so well that it’s hard to swallow.
“Of course, we know you want to stay,” Silas growls in reply to whatever she said, moving closer to toy with the ends of Maven’s curled hair. “You enjoy torturing us like this. It’s too cruel,sangfluir. Even your small army of ghosts agrees with me.”
He gestures at nothing off to the side of the clearing. If I didn’t know Maven could see the spirits too, I’d assume Silas was sinking back into insanity.
Our keeper grins. “Thirty minutes, and we’ll leave.”
“Five,” Everett snaps, his eyes trailing over her again. “That’s more than enough time for people here to gawk at you. They’re lucky I don’t freeze them all here in nevermelt as an eternal reminder that no one outside our quintet should see you looking so—so?—”
When he can’t find the right words, he swears and drinks the rest of his wine.
“Fifteen minutes,” Maven decides, grinning when Crypt can’t stop himself from reaching out to trace his emblem on the center of her chest.
“Very well,” the incubus says in a much softer, far more dangerous tone than his recently flustered one. He smiles darkly at her. “Enjoy those fifteen minutes, darling. Because after that, you’ll be weeping with arousal and pleading for mercy as four monsters wring every single ounce of pleasure from your teasing little cunt for as long as we like.”
Yes to everything he just said.
Our keeper grins and leans closer to stage-whisper beside his ear, just loud enough that we can all hear her. “Promise?”
He swears. Silas mutters something in fae. I’m pretty sure Everett is now seriously considering freezing everyone here just so we can get our keeper alone sooner.
“Fourteen fucking minutes left, Raincloud,” I warn her, having to turn away from everyone else in the celebration so they won’t see the raging hard-on torturing me.
“Maven Oakley!” someone calls.
It’s Orlando Coates, the cult leader. He quickly hurries to Maven before dropping to his knees in a low bow.
“Our demigoddess, you came!”
No, but shewillbe coming,I scowl through the bond.Again and again, thanks to me.
Silas hums.Just two orgasms? Or was that three? Either way, I’ll give her far more.
Just not as many as I will,Everett chips in, beginning to pace with impatient arousal.
Another bet, then,Crypt suggests as his eyes remain pinned on our keeper.This one has no deadline or prize aside from proving who can worship our girl the best.
I’m in, I say almost at the same time as the others.
Despite our telepathic thirsting over her, Maven’s face stays perfectly blank as the cult leader beams at her.
“So many of our guests here tonight are just dying to meet you,” Coates says.
“Literally?” she checks, looking around for another giant wooden stake.
