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Lucan paced the polished marble floors of his sprawling bedroom. He contemplated calling for Anileta but knew she could no longer be trusted. A courtesan might work, but he had used so many recently that they failed to bring him to climax.

These days, he would rather do it himself. Even fucking Anileta came more out of habit than anything else.

But did he trust himself not to slip back into that delicious fantasy of devouring the elf maiden, claiming her every hole with his seed, and watching it spill from her quivering cunt as her tears soaked the earth, followed by her silvered blood?

Did it fucking matter anymore?

Groaning, Lucan untied his pants and shoved his hand under the waistband. Metal clashed against metal as his ringed fingers slipped around the length of his cock.

Godsdamn her.

He stroked, stretching the skin taut between each long, golden bar running the width of his shaft. Once, the sight shamed him; a reminder he’d had everything stripped away, then returned in jumbled pieces.

Now, he didn’t care what he looked like so long as something—anything—helped him feel alive.

Lucan turned to the mirror beside his bed and couldn’t help but admire the bulge of his thigh muscles as he stood there, face red and splattered with that prisoner’s blood, cock in one hand while the other ran through his short, white curls.

Truly, he couldn’t deny that at least Aurelion made him into a beautiful beast.

Closing his eyes, Lucan thought back to a few months ago with Anileta in his bed and one of her favored hunters at his knees. The man—he never even caught his name—eagerly took Lucan deep in his throat as his fingers teased Lucan’s ass. It was the closest thing he had come to a satisfying orgasm in weeks.

As Lucan stroked his growing hardness, fingertips running over the ridges of his piercings, he tried to picture that night again. The blood in his veins slowly warmed. Each fervent stroke pulled the fires closer.

Her gagging, spit dribbling from her lips as tears gathered in her wretched eyes…

Lucan stiffened. His hand remained on his throbbing cock as his eyes flashed open. The image was a most beautiful thing.

A dangerous thing.

Licking his lips, Lucan thought of only Anileta, her long locks the color of spilled oil cascading over sharp shoulders, her slender waist, and her creamy thighs. How she willingly parted them each time he called, taking every inch of his cock, shuddering against him as each piercing tightened her wet hole.

“Scream as you take each rung, darling. I won’t be gentle. I’ll make sure that fucking cunt bleeds for me.”

His words to that godsdamned elf rose unbidden. He had been so close to her in the Evermist, felt the hardness of her nipples even as the fury raged in her eyes. Undone by the scent of her breath and the glint of moonlight in her hair, he had promised to use her until nothing remained.

Of whom, he wasn’t quite certain.

Hot need coursed through his frozen form. His breath came in ragged gasps with each stroke. Shadow and mist curled around his legs and arms. The skin around his mouth burned, remnants of the prisoner’s blood dripping onto his lips.

The pain only crystallized the vision of Elarian kneeling in front of him, heavy chains pulling her limbs to the floor while that vile mouth swallowed his length. Lucan tried desperately to think of Anileta or Siare, Jace, the nameless hunter, or even another elf.

Elarian remained.

She always remained, even when the court faded away and his hollowed heart was his only company. For decades, she haunted him—their need to watch the other rot in the ground mixed with the undeniable thrill each brought the other.

Lucan steadily stroked himself now, rolling the flesh between each golden bar as he groaned. Hot, stolen blood pulsed through his veins, throbbing as it brought his release closer.

Elarian.

Soft moans filled the air as the head of his cock glistened deep red.

He’d fuck her corpse.

His pace quickened, shadows teasing his ass.

Fucking Elarian, the cunt!

Shudders threatened to buckle his knees. Lucan kept going, gaze fixed upon the vision of Elarian in chains, mouth bloodied, his hands at her throat.