He follows immediately after, his hips slamming against mine one final time as he empties himself inside me. His groan is animalistic, possessive, a sound of triumph directed as much at Ezekiel as it is just pure pleasure.
And when it’s over, when I almost collapse against the cold metal table, I see Ezekiel’s head loll to one side, his pupils dilating as the alarms reach a crescendo. For a moment, I think he’s dead.
Ares withdraws, helping me sit up on unsteady legs. I adjust my clothing with trembling fingers, suddenly too aware again of our surroundings. Of how fucked up we really are and how little I care.
As I slide off the table, my legs still weak from the orgasm, a raspy sound emerges from Ezekiel’s direction.
I guess he’s not dead. Pity, I think I would have liked him dying over me having sex with another man.
But it seems that’s exactly what he’s asking for. “Kill… me… please.”
The plea sounds pathetic, even desperate, so different from the sadistic laughter I used to hear every time he had me for himself. But he looks at me no longer with hatred, but with something else. Something worse. Hope. Hope that I might be merciful enough to end his suffering after I’ve destroyed him completely.
But I’ve never considered myself as someone good.
I lean close and stare at him for a second, looking at him one last time. “No,” I whisper, slow, definitive.Then I pull back tosee the hope draining away, replaced by understanding that this hell will continue.
“You had me for two years. So the good doctor will keep you alive for exactly that long,” I decide, being judge and executioner of the man who brought me so much pain.
Ares’ hand finds mine and we start walking toward the doorway. I don’t look back. I don’t need to this time. He won’t come to haunt my nightmares again because he’s still alive. I’ll be the one haunting his. Something inside me has just settled into place, a piece of my past finding its home in the puzzle of who I’ve become.
Justice doesn’t always wear a pretty face. Sometimes it’s just monsters destroying monsters, and vengeance is the only closure we get.
EPILOGUE
-Ares-
Brynn’s body arches with pleasure beneath my hands. My gold throne cradles us both as I drive deeper into her, claiming what’s mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders, drawing blood that heals as quickly as it wells. The pain is meaningless, a fleeting sensation that only enhances the pleasure, but there’s no greater pleasure than watching her face contort in ecstasy, her eyes flashing with the same fire that drove me to her from the first moment.
My little curse. My greatest conquest.
I grip her hips tighter, angling her on top of me to take me deeper, and her moans echo against each artifact in this room, the sound much more precious than the gathered wealth surrounding us. I’ve conquered nations with far less satisfaction, than I feel watching her break in my arms.
“You’re only mine,” I growl against her throat, my teeth scraping the tender skin there, exactly where her pulse races.
Her response is to tighten around me, her body clenching with so much pressure that I nearly lose my control. Every second,she challenges me, matches me. And that’s exactly why she’s the only one worthy to share my throne.
Her head falls back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. The kind of surrender that costs nothing and gives me everything. Because the fragility of mortals has never been so arousing or so precious.
I move, driving upward, my fingers sliding along her ribs until I feel them. The final two scars that mark her skin. The last two remnants of her former torturer, the man who now exists as little more than a specimen in my laboratory—a place where he learns what hell really feels like.
His marks have no place on her body. Not anymore. Not ever again.
I slow my thrusts, my palm sliding over the scars on her back, right where the ribs end.
She notices the change in rhythm immediately, and I can see the questions in her eyes as they meet mine.
I don’t need to tell her what I’m about to do. She already knows, we’ve been here before. I can feel her body tensing with anticipation.
My muscles tighten beneath her, all parts of me becoming larger, and she lets out a moan as my cock pushes stronger against her walls. I focus on turning one of my fingernails longer, similar to a short claw. And then I take what’s mine.
Two more cuts. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to erase what was there. Her pain.Her past. Just enough to give her everything I have to offer. Because she won’t bear just my mark. She will bear my crown. Be my equal, and one day she will even bear my children.
I feel her body respond, a shiver running through her and getting her to clamp all around me.
“Feel that. You are being remade,” I whisper, without stopping my thrusts. “Into something completely mine.”
My free hand slides to cup her breast, my thumb circling the small piercing there. And then the other moves to the second scar. “Now you wear only my marks.” The last word is punctuated by the taste of her lips as I kiss her with everything I have. Not just madness, and lust, but the most precious thing I have—love.
