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“Your pussy is mine,”
“It’s mine,” I said again, thrusting my hips up and down to fuck myself on his cock. The hand playing with my clit pressed down to hold me in place, forcing me to look up at him. “But you can borrow it for a bit.”
“Mine,” he snarled again, and the tenderness gave way to an aching pain without the friction to keep the pleasure going.
“Fine, yeah, yours. Whatever. Just fuck me,” I cried as he pushed into me again in mad vicious thrusts. I screamed out his name as I came again, his thumb pressing down on the nub of flesh that so desperately needed his touch. This time Marik groaned out his release, his hot seed pouring into me as he collapsed on top of me.
???
Brightness lit the back of my eyes, and delicious warmth kissed my skin, offset by the cool caress of smooth marble beneath my feet and delicate swaths of silk loosely flitting down my body. I opened my eyes, revealing a bright white columned hall with tall ceilings that stretched beyond my sight. The perfectly linear columns lined with impossibly straight fluting towered above me, the sun casting a perfect myriad of shadow and light to detail nary a single chisel mark or minor imperfection from the unbending lines.
Stretching to the end of the hall was a rounded chamber, who’s edges were lined with the same vast columns with bright heavy cream curtains pulled entirely to the sides, and a series of balconies with intricate white rod iron rails that swooped and dipped mimicking natural vines. All that could be seen beyond the balconies were slightly clouded skies and a vast emptiness that was almost too perfect in its infinite glory. The entire scene was austere and almost too clean, save for the single cream toned desk in the middle of the chamber.
Behind the desk sat a man, who’s short silver hair swept back off his forehead in a perfectly quaffed look. The sides of his head were neatly faded, leaving the top of his hair longer to sweep back over his head, and a shortly trimmed two toned beard wrested across his jaw in a dark and light silver pattern. He wore a simple pale red robe overlaid with turquoise fabric that dipped over one shoulder and cinched at his waist with a corded leather belt. Across his neck and shoulders lay a thick golden collar that reminded me much of the Museum of Ireland’s prized Gleninsheen Gorget save for intricately placed amber toned jewels inlaid periodically. His head was bent over a lengthy scroll, the scratching of his long white feathered quill the only sound the room made.
I hesitated to approach - something about the scene made me feel it would be a sin simply to break the man’s concentration.
“Come forth,” came a powerful voice that played directly into my mind. The man’s lips had failed to move, but I knew the words had come from him deep down.
I felt myself move forward, my bare clad feet making nary a sound as I traversed the cool nearly veinless marble. I couldn’t pause in my trek, an invisible string pulling me forward, releasing only when I came to the edge of his desk.
Without looking up the voice came again, this time his lips moving with the sound.
“We cannot keep doing this,” he said simply with a deeply rich accent that I could not place. I furrowed my brow. But when I went to speak, I found my lips unable to move. “You must learn when judgment is the correct course, young one.”
I didn’t understand, but he seemed not to notice or didn’t care. He just continued to scratch at the scroll before him - a chart of some kind from what I could tell but the words were otherwise eligible to me as they were written in a language that looked similar to enochian, but didn’t have quite the same symbols and accents. Despite that, I could tell this man was an angel, even without lacking visible wings, but I didn’t know who he was.
“You shall not be aided again in this. They are too close to the truth now.”
Aided in what? And could this guy get anymore cryptic?
“I could, yes, but that would defeat the purpose,” he replied and I smarted as his bright amber eyes lifted to meet mine. Pure justice pooled in the depth of his irises, the black ring surrounding them starkly contrasted with the bright white and burning gemstone colors contained therein. This man oozed pure power, but when I raised my sixth sense, I could find none to pull away. He had it anchored tightly, his body acting as a pure vessel for the strength within. This was not a man to cross.
“I shall ensure that you are free to make your choice but make it wisely. This is the last interference I can offer now,” he said again, before returning to his scroll. “You will need to make a wise choice now young one, they are too close.”
What choice? And who is they? It didn’t make any sense, even though he kept saying it.
“I do keep saying it, don’t I? Perhaps there’s a reason for that,” he replied, lifting his eyes to me again. “Return now, as there will be consequences. You need to learn to let go.”
Before I could ask him what he meant I felt myself floating, the bare refined room dissolving into white light around me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Real Victim
Marik
My Thief did not immediately awake when I pulled from her mind, although her body remained in a gentle repose that bespoke of sleep, rather than suffering. Her eyes had stopped their frantic sweeping, as her breathing had steadied, the gentle rise and fall of her chest a relief to my exhausted mind.
The moment I sat back Ness rushed in, bumping past me to kneel over her still unconscious friend. She was now wearing a simple pair of navy-blue fatigues and a white tank top, an identical look to my Thief the first day we met.
“What’s wrong? Did it work?” panic ladened her voice as she patted her friend’s cheek.
“She’s fine, just exhausted.” I replied, looking back at Felix. Our eyes met and I nodded to him, and trepidation hanging over our bond dissipating.
“Well boss, I’d say job well done.” Felix said, stepping up from his place against the door just as it swung inward. Zane stalked in; footsteps heavy as he moved through a pathway on the floor without looking. Clearly, he had memorized his own crap.
“It would have polite to knock doggy,” Felix chided. “You would have greatly inconvenienced me had I not heard your hooves clomping around out there.”
“I don’t have to knock in my own house asshole.” Zane snapped.
