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He ground harder into me as if to accentuate his point, and I moaned, my clit throbbing so intensely I was sure I could fall apart from this alone.
I pressed my ass harder into his cock and felt him twitch behind me. “You don’t like them?”
“You could wear rags and look just as tempting, rebel.”
A gasp erupted from me, surprised by this admission, even as he undid the button of my trousers with one hand. His fingers dove beneath the waistband.
“Take them off,” I practically begged, suddenly not caring how weak I sounded. I felt weak. Desperate.
He let go of my hair, and in the same moment, the closure on my pants ripped as he tore them down my body. Buttons flew, pinging off the floor, the bookshelves, but I barely noticed or cared when his fingers found my entrance. “Fuck.”
“Good, rebel. I want to hear you when you finally surrender.”
I knew I should probably be alarmed by that, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t remember why I would be when all I could hear was the sound of his belt coming undone. When all I could feel was his fingers stroking slowly, leisurely over my clit. “Oh gods.”
“No gods, Rebel. Say my name when I fuck you.”
I pushed myself up on my palms on the desk, arching my back, tiny sparks of pleasure shooting all over my body, stemming from where his fingers still teased at me. My heart pounded too fast—out of control—as wetness pooled in my core. “My lord.”
His hand came down hard on my ass, a sharp pain that was as much pleasure as punishment. A violent snarl erupted from his chest. “What’s my fucking name?”
He leaned down, running his tongue over my neck, and I writhed, practically crying with the need racking my body as he positioned himself at my entrance. His teeth scraped against my skin, and I gasped. “Scion.”
Then, in the split second before he slammed into me, he bit down hard on my neck. I felt the skin break, and I screamed, the pain becoming pleasure in my hazy, unfocused mind.
Scion froze.
My entire body shook, and I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes still blurry, head still hazy. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t moving—why he wasn’t filling me, fucking me, destroying me.
My gaze locked with his, and my confusion only grew as silver eyes stared back at me, wide and horrified, my own scarlet blood dripping down his chin.
32
SCION
THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT
“Come back,” Lonnie moaned. “Please?”
Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up.
It was already hard enough to think with so much dust in the air and the feel of her skin fresh in my mind, her blood in my mouth; I didn’t need her lying on the desk begging to be fucked as well—and yet, of course, she was. This was clearly the gods punishing me. Just the latest in a long string of trials, like some fucking myth of eternal suffering.
Gancanagh’s Dust.
The most fucked-up of all arcane substances.
Fuck!I should have realized what it was the moment the dust touched Lonnie’s skin, but I’d never seen it at its full strength before. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t realize precisely what until I’d breathed it in and it was too late. I was merely a bystander in my own body.
Why her blood had stopped it, I had no idea. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or horrified. Grateful, I supposed, because Gancanagh’s Dust didn’t just cause insatiable lust. With the amount in that drawer, it seemed likely that we would have literally fucked to death. Still, I couldn’t exactly say I was thrilled, given that a bite like that could mean nothing good.
I glanced at Lonnie, who was now lying on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. Fuck, she was probably as trapped in her own head as I’d been, and I had no idea what to do with her. If I touched her again, would it get fucking worse?
I’d have to risk it—fuck the consequences, this mission, anyone who got in my way.
Holding my breath as I shook more dust out of my hair, I waited a beat for it to fall. The dust didn’t react to skin, only when it was ingested—fuck, I’d have to tell Cross. His team had missed some on those ships and, possibly, had been missing the drug’s presence in the city for quite some time. This must be what Phillipa Blacktongue mixed into all the food and drink in her miserable den of sin, the evil cunt.
I practically quaked with rage. There had been whispers for years that even the Fae should think twice before eating the food or drinking too much, but it was hard to pinpoint the cause.
