Page 21 of His Eternal Claim

For a second, I almost laugh. If she knew what I have sacrificed for her, she’d never utter those words again. My chest feels like someone drove a blade straight through it. Yet I neutralize my face. Because that’s what she needs. To hate me. To despise me. To survive me. To survive this.

“You’re not my mistress.”

“Then what?!” she yells. “Your whore? The woman you can choose because she was convenient to mess around with! I’ve loved you, you rascal! I loved you!”

I knew. God help me, I knew. I’ve known since we were children. Known since she looked at me as though I hung the stars. Since I realized I would burn the world before letting another man touch her. And still, I say nothing. Because if I open my mouth now, everything ends. The war I’ve spent years trying to prevent. Everything. Including her.

I loosen my hold on her hair, and I take her mouth with a brutality that should be a sin.

My tongue forces its way past her teeth, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her surrender. This is how we end this. I need to taste you one last fucking time.

I’m fisting her hair so tight my hand cramps, anchoring her to me as if she’s the only thing keeping me from spinning off the axis of the earth.

She moans into my mouth, a soft, broken sound that makes my blood boil.

She’s so fucking small.

In my arms, she feels like something made of glass and moonlight, yet she’s the only thing strong enough to break me.

My hand drops from her hair, sliding down the curve of her throat, my thumb pressing against the frantic beat of her pulse. Her pulse races out of control, and some traitorous part of her leans toward me instead of away.

I’ve spent weeks killing, bathing in the filth of this empire to keep her safe… but nothing—nothing—feels as dangerous as this. She is my ruin. And I kiss it anyway, claim it anyway, want more anyway.

I break the kiss just long enough to growl against her skin, my teeth grazing the sensitive cord of her neck. “You won’t even look at another man, Selene. If I ever find out you’ve let someone else so much as breathe your air, I’ll kill him slow. And then I’ll lock you in a room where the only thing you ever see is me. Do you understand?”

She’s gasping, her chest heaving against mine, her hands now tangled in my hair, pulling me back down to her.

“Then stay,” she begs, her voice a ruin. “Don’t marry her. Stay.”

I shut my eyes, the agony of the lie returning, but the hunger is louder. For tonight, the monster in me can wait.

“I can’t,” I rasp, my mouth finding hers again, fiercer than before.

I lift her onto the table, her dress rucking up under my hands, and for the first time in my life, I don’t care if the world burns. As long as she’s the one holding the match.

I slide her down the length of the table.

I’m past the point of reason.

My head is spinning with the scent of her, that mix of jasmine and salt.

I drop to my knees between her legs, my hands sliding up the insides of her thighs, bunching the expensive silk of her dress until it’s a useless ruin around her waist.

My thumbs find that soft, lethal heat, rubbing slow circles that make her back arch off the table.

“You’re so fucking wet for a man you call a monster,” I growl, my voice raw against her skin. “Tell me, Selene. Does your body know you’re supposed to hate me?”

I lean in, my breath hot against the lace of her underwear. I want to tell her exactly how I’m going to claim her, how I’m going to mark every inch of her skin until no other man would dare look at the wreckage I leave behind.

“Zagreus… please,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. It’s a plea, a final, desperate prayer for me to stop the clock, to choose her over the empire. “One last time. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me you won’t go to her.”

I freeze.

I look up at her, my hands still cupping the center of her world, my pulse thundering in my ears. The lie is a bitter poison in my throat. I can’t say it. I can’t give her the hope that will get her killed.

“I can’t,” I rasp.

Her face transforms.