“I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
What I said to Rose, and she to me. Reign magic tumbles around me, a rocky grip, fortifying my thighs. He holds me in place as the water slaps harder against my clit over and over and over.
“No.” But it’s a weak protest, a playful, breathy one—to him.
Inside, I am screaming, begging my body to shut down, but it does anything but—not as solid arms wrap around my hips, hands knead my ass, pointed teeth graze across my stomach, and I cannot stop my own fingers from pinching my nipples harder as the Reign magic has taken over, as he has taken over. He is not betraying me; he is making me betray myself.
My hips buck, eyes burning with unfallen tears, as desire builds.
I thought it would be less painful this way.
“Are you almost there?”
“Yes.”
His teeth are sinking into my hip, biting, and I cry out in shock. His hands are on my back, and he is lowering me, slipping a leg over one shoulder, then the other. The warm water embraces my spine as he lays me across the top step, my hips lifted in the air, my fingers twisting painfully, ceaselessly, at my nipples, the Reign magic locking them in. And what died, unspent, between Kassandra and me is once again resurrected against my will.
“Please,” I beg.
Maxian descends, dragging his tongue up my center. I cry out again, bucking, but he holds me in place. He sucks on my clit, fingers gripping my thighs painfully, as I work—as he works—my sore breasts.
No,but it’s too late, heat and humiliation warming my chest, my neck, my cheeks. He pulls back. “You’re throbbing.”
“Stop,” I gasp, and finally our gazes lock. His cheeks are flush with desire, his hair damp and ruffled, between my legs. How many fae crave this sight, to have the king on his knees before them? How many would do anything for it?
“We can stop. We can stop anytime.” His stubble grazes my thigh. “I’ll just need to call Carter back in with the contract so I can void it.”
“Wait—”
He cocks a brow, kissing my inner thigh, murmuring, “What will it be, then?”
My head falls back, and tears roll down my temples. I do not know the answer. I am too drunk on many things to be clever. His Reign magic drops away from my hands, but they move on their own volition now, my pussy pulsing, pelvis pushing closer. There is no answer, there is just the plan: survive.
“Please,” I manage.
“Please, what?”
My voice echoes throughout the chamber, sounding small.
“Finish me.”
“Good faerie.”
He takes me into his mouth, tugging, working. But the body is hollow, mind severed from this moment. He notices and bites me hard, and I cry out, for maybe I cannot survive this, here with him. So I do not stay with him, or find Kassandra or any of the other beautiful High Fae.
I think of confessing this later to Jeremee, hiccupping and crying in his arms as I did after so many other losses, and him stroking my hair, kissing me because Death was right. I do not seek approval in males, only protection. They will touch us anyway, so we may as well find the gentlest ones. The one I would whisper to under the tables of the common room when we were kids, telling him all the things my father did. The one who worried, who refused me when I wanted him the most, my friend, my first and original friend, the only safe harbor in an unsafe world. Destroyed now. Jeremee a destination I can never return to even if I always long for it. Long for my home.
The king’s grip is painful, grabbing my breasts, and my body floods again with feeling, that building, that swelling, that filling until I am bursting with it, until I can take it no more.
Then Maxian plunges two fingers into me and rips the orgasm out.
Chapter Fifty-four
Maxian bathes me. He tugsme down until the water hugs my belly button, propping me up on his knee. I do not protest, do not even make a noise, as he washes away the moment, the soap bar scraping against skin. I wince as he cleans tender flesh, bruises developing across my chest, my hips. He must’ve grabbed me roughly, forced the Reign magic to do so, and I did not know until now, when pleasure has been washed out for pain.
He hums. He lathers my back, pulling wet hair onto one shoulder. Then he cradles my skull in one palm and looks down at me. His full lips part, his brow pinched in the smallest hint of concern.
