Maddox reached his peak a few thrusts later and spilled into me, releasing a rough groan as his cock pulsed. He collapsed on me afterward and gathered me in his arms, dropping his face to my neck. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”
Limbs heavy and eyelids barely able to stay open, I only managed a quiet and tired sound in response. It drew from him a small chuckle before he brushed a kiss to my jaw.
“Time to take your potion, love.” Briar grabbed the vial off the nightstand.
“No.” I wiggled beneath Maddox like the brat I was. Exhausted, a small squirm was all I could manage. “Don’t wanna drink snake juice.”
“Come again?” Rowan asked, followed by a wet slosh in the flask, like he’d been about to take a drink.
“Bog viper venom,” Briar explained. Even with my eyes closed, I suspected he’d adjusted his glasses in that adorable way. “Phantasia said it’s quite effective when used in healing.”
If my muscles hadn’t been jelly, I would’ve jumped up and barricaded myself in the adjoining washroom. Then again, the big body on top of me would’ve had no trouble dragging me right back before I got far.
“Drink, love.” Briar cupped the back of my head to lift me up off the pillow and pressed the vial to my lips.
Alas, I succumbed to my fate and drank the potion. The bitter taste made me gag, but my sweet Briar was ready and gave me some honey and a drink of hot tea to wash it down—must’ve used the fire rune on his cup to keep it hot. As I took a breath afterward, it came easier. No crackles or tightness.
“Wow.” I touched my chest. “The potion’s already…”
A sudden heaviness crashed over me. My words died on my lips, and my eyes closed again. All strength left my muscles. I imagined myself sinking deeper into the mattress, like it was absorbing me.
“Very potent, I’d say,” Briar said before releasing a soft laugh.
The bed swallowed me. Distant sounds reached my ears. Voices from the men I loved and steps on the floor. Rustles of covers and clothing. The bed dipped beside me before I felt a warm, wet cloth against my belly and groin, then lower to my ass. Someone was cleaning me.
The scent of leather and spice tickled my nose before a deep voice murmured in my ear, “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
Chapter Twelve
Back to the Daily Grind. Kind of.
The clang of swords rang out from the training field, joining the chorus of grunts and hard thuds of bodies slamming against each other.
I sat on a bench a short distance from the field, bundled up in the cloak Rowan had given me so long ago. Traces of black cardamom lingered in the material, and I pressed my nose to it. The morning air held a spring-like chill. Not too cold but enough to cause goose bumps on those of us with little meat on our bones and sensitive to cooler temperatures.
“Again!” A demon sprang up from where he’d been knocked on his ass. Black hair spiked around his head, the texture reminiscent of hawk feathers, and his skin glowed a rich amber. He looked young, upper twenties at most. Then again, demons aged differently. He could’ve been well over a hundred for all I knew. “I demand another go at you.”
“As you wish,” Callum responded, readjusting his grip on the sword. “You must enjoy spending time in the dirt.”
The demon spat on the ground before lunging toward him with a wild, battle cry of a roar. Callum ducked beneath the swing and kicked the back of the demon’s shin once on the other side of him, causing him to stumble. He hit the demon’s back with the hilt of his sword, sending him the rest of the way to the dirt.
“Impressive.” Seraphina stood near the fence and watched them, arms crossed. Supervising the match, as per the conditionLord Onyx had set. “Your reputation in combat is well-deserved, human. Tell me. Who taught you how to wield a sword?”
“My sister Sasha.” Callum lowered his weapon to his side. “She is several years older than I and used to train with me when I was a young lad, first with sticks, then with swords. She is now a smith and forges her own blades.”
“Another female who knows her way around a sword. Consider my interest piqued.” Seraphina then did what I thought to be impossible: she smiled. “She’s a human I wouldn’t mind crossing paths with someday.”
The black-haired demon lunged at Callum from behind, trying to take him off guard since his back was turned. But my cinnamon roll had detected him and parried the intended blow before hitting the demon with the brunt end of his sword again. Callum’s fluid and agile movements were mesmerizing to watch. Swordplay was more than knowing how to deal and deflect blows; footwork was just as important.
“Attacking an opponent from behind?” Callum peered down at the demon. “Have you no honor?”
The demon smirked up at him from where he’d been knocked to the dirt for the fifth time, chest heaving with his quick breaths. “There is no honor in battle. Only victory or death.”
“Then I’d say you’ve died five times over, demon.” Callum offered him a hand. “Interested in making it six?”
As though earning his respect, or at least proving himself a worthy sparring partner, the demon clasped Callum’s forearm and allowed him to pull him to his feet. The two dove back into another match.
Duke, Baden, and Quincy sparred with demons on the other side of the field and seemed to be having a blast given their exhilaratedwhoopsand grins. Well, except for Baden. His expression was fixed into a permanent scowl. I noticed he movedwith more vigor though, an excitement not as obvious as the other two but present nonetheless.
