The coil of heat in my core winds tighter and tighter. I’m so close, teetering on the edge. Drayven senses it. His thumb finds my clit and rubs furious circles.
“Come for me,” he commands. “I want to feel you fall apart around my cock”
I combust. Sparks everywhere, in my vision, in my body. My entire body seizes with pleasure.
Drayven’s rhythm falters. His movements become erratic, desperate. With a cursed groan, he thrusts one last time. Hot pulses of wetness lash my stomach as he climaxes, face contorted in ecstasy.
He collapses on me, warm and sweaty. His fingers flex in my damp hair, nose pressed against my neck, breathing labored. I didn’t think sex could be like this. This moment, the rawness of it, the beauty.
Until I trail my hand down my body and feel the wetness on my stomach.
Shoving him off me, I glance down. It’s not my wound reopened, nor his. We’re both healed. What I find is a pink mix of my virginal blood and his seed outside of me.
He’d pulled out at the last moment, but I was too blissfully high to notice.
Guilty blue eyes clash with mine. “I’m sorry, Flori. But I can’t be your king.”
Chapter 15
Drayven
The Labyrinth reveals what we hide even from ourselves.”
—OBSERVATIONS OF THE LAST QUEEN
The instant the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. Flori looks up at me with horror.
“What do you mean, you can’t be my king?” Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard uttered by her lips.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as bone. “Flori, I?—”
She shakes her head, blue hair swaying. “Don’t touch me.”
“I can’t rule. I’m not… I’m not fit for it. I’m a huntsman, a killer. Not a leader.”
I reach for her, but she jerks away.
“Flori, please,” I beg, desperation clawing at my chest.
“So, you just fucked me instead?” she spits. “You’d rather a quick tumble than stand by my side and fight for our love?”
“You’ll hate me if I’m the reason you lose sight of your goal. The Laughing God?—”
“Fuck the Laughing God!” she snarls.
The life in her eyes fades, and it kills me inside because I’m the reason. But better this small pain now than a greater pain later.
“Trust me,” I say, funneling my energy into dressing. “This is how it needs to be.”
No answer as I slip on my jacket. Frowning, I pick up my baldric and sling the strap over my shoulder.
“I will get you through this Labyrinth, Flori. Unsullied and whole.” I yank on my breeches with short, jerky motions.
“And then what, Dray? What happens if I win this twisted game? Kasaros says the brides will go free, but they’ve probably already been claimed and harmed. He says no more Bride Hunts, but they could take on a different form, a new name. I won’t be queen if I win the wager, but I’m still fertile. What if I’m still expected to warm some brute’s bed?”
“I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Without the mask?”
