Wilder sits back on his haunches and positions me back on top of him. Back in control, I am more desperate than I was before. My orgasm is imminent.
Wilder sinks his teeth into my left breast. I scream, chanting his name as I come.
His hips jerk, one final thrust before he pulses inside of my still trembling body. I hold him tighter, nails leaving half-moon marks on his tattooed skin.
Neither of us speaks.
We sit silently as the candles surge around us, breathing heavily in the rose-scented suite.
I don’t need to say a word. My reverent touch says it all.
I will love him forever.
Three Years Later
“I didn’t wearthe proper shoes to traipse around the city at night!”
I chuckle. Leigh is wearing a short red dress and spiky heels. Her straight hair cascades like a golden sheet down her back, faintly scented with violets. Her jewelry is simple, but knowing her, it probably costs a fortune. She looks perfect, but then again, my wife always does. “Relax. It’s a surprise, and we’re almost there.”
I cover Leigh’s eyes as we walk down the last stretch of the graffiti-lined street in the Burned-Over District of Borealis. This area is now well-known for its nightlife and festivals, a stark contrast to when I rescued her from Eos’s bomb six years ago.
It’s just after eleven p.m. Pedestrians crowd the sidewalks, cars honk at every stoplight, and even though the Spring Equinox is still a week away, people are already celebrating. The bars are at capacity, lines spill onto the sidewalks, and thumping music mixes with shouts and laughter. There’s bound to be trouble, but that’s not my concern tonight—it’s Soter’s. My Domna knows how to handle things without me.
Tonight is about Leigh and me.
Soter already warned me that Leigh will leave the moment she figures out my plan. He might be right; what I’m considering will cause pain, and she’ll do anything to avoid it. She always says she’s a baby when it comes to pain. But a bet’s a bet. Leigh won’t let me down—she hasn’t in nearly three years of marriage. Besides, this was originally her idea.
We pass beneath a neon red sign that readsTartarus. My smile widens.
Fuck, this is going to be fun.
“You ready?” I ask.
Leigh sniffs the air. “What’s that smell?”
I pause. The air reeks of paint, ink, and stale cigarette smoke.
“That’s the smell of fun, princess.” I grip the shop’s smooth door handle.
She exhales a shaky breath. “Ugh, fine, but can we hurry up? I’m getting anxious.”
I laugh. “Your wish is my command.”
We step into a spacious reception area with brick walls adorned in glow-in-the-dark graffiti and hanging LED lights from the low ceiling. Curtained-off rooms branch off from a central space filled with framed licenses lining the walls and red vinyl chairs. Behind the counter, a green-haired girl covered in tattoos smiles at me. I wink back. Diana and I have been planning this for weeks. I even told her not to take no for an answer if Leigh protests. I know my wife; she’ll cave. She made me a promise, and she never breaks her word, not since we got married. That’s part of what makes her a great queen.
“Okay, surprise,” I say, uncovering Leigh’s eyes.
She blinks a few times, then gasps. “A tattoo parlor?”
I nod, a wicked smile on my lips. “We had a bet, remember? Soter and Isolde’s second kid?—”
“You want me to get a tattoo?” She backs toward the door.
“The deal was if they had a girl, you’d get a tattoo of my choice.” I waggle my eyebrows for effect.
Leigh crosses her arms over her chest, but she’s grinning. “Absolutely not.”
Diana slides a consent form toward us. “He prepaid and everything,” she singsongs.
