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I can’t begin to know on what level they feel things, but I imagine it’s a thousand times stronger than mortals. And how they must feed upon us. Considering the emotions that have built up inside me…and Eros…over the past four months—and ten days—, the twins must be drowning in our sexual tension.
So, I suck in a deep breath and lift a trembling hand to Desire, letting him close his palm around mine. He raises me to a stand.
The moment he kisses me, I unravel.
26
“Do you believe my brother loves you?”
EROS
Envy does not overwhelm me.
Despite how I ball my hand from a pang of jealousy, I respect my brother and his mastery. It’s almost as good as mine. Nor would I let them suffer from my selfishness when Aradia is so clearly captivated by them. And they, her.
My little Butterfly and I have different barriers, a different relationship. And no mortal can resist the allure of my brother’s pheromones. Just as she could not resist mine in the cemetery. Nor have I desired to give her the smallest of doses.
I desire Aradia’s untarnished love. It’s why she cannot see me. If she were to love me for my god form alone, it would change everything. I wish to fuck her body, mind, and soul. For both our gods-damned selves, I will set the boundaries.
Moreover, I trust my brothers.
Overhearing the music change to Lionel Richie’sHello, I roll my eyes, smirking. Make that my brother, singular, at thismoment since Pothos and Crescendo have been swept up by Himeros’ magic. I must admit…it’s quite adorable and arousing to find my sweet Cres straddling Pothos’ lap with their tongues tangling.
Not half as arousing as it is when I turn to find Himeros tilting his jaw, changing the angle and depth of his kiss with Aradia. I recognize he’s giving her a sample of his pheromones, his powers. Her mortal skin glows brighter, pinker from her flushed desire.
Poor Butterfly doesn’t know what to do with her hands—she’s wrung them so much, her knuckles have whitened. I smile as Himeros, who, without breaking contact with her lips, takes her hands, placing them on his chest, encouraging her to explore.
She does. A hungry moan echoes from her throat as Himeros deepens the kiss. My pulse hums as I permit the kiss to linger, to unfold as her sex weeps its fragrant honey. My brother’s libido loves hers, and hers pebbles her nipples.
Himeros does not kiss her with possession. If he did, he’d already be a heart-shaped splat on the wall—feathers sticking to the blood. He rouses her, thrills her blood, and increases her desire.
He pauses from her lips. They are plump and wet. Tears blot her delicate feathered eyelashes. Her body vibrates with a pulsing need. But my assumptions are confirmed when she turns her glassy eyes to me, her desire for me impregnated to the bursting point.
Every inch of her form leans toward me, melts for me. But I don’t move. Not yet.
Before she can return to me, Himeros lowers his hands to bind her waist until her back is pressed to his chest. She bites her lower lip and inhales sharply as his full lips brush her rosycheek. But those mystical eyes—they’re fucking gagging for me. Her blood ignited…for me.
“As you have experienced for yourself, my lady…” he purrs in her ear, breathing in her curls, “we are quite masterful in kindling desire.” His feathers tighten from the clenching of his wing sinew, betraying his own desire. But he redirects it, like a boomerang, to me.
Her breath heaves and cleaves as she fixates on me. “Yes, um…I’d say you need to recalibrate your desire meter. It’s off the charts.”
He chuckles. “If you’ll permit me, sweetheart…Eros.” He sweeps one hand lower to cup her mound. She gasps but throws her head back, clenching her internal muscles. I smirk but still growl a low silky warning. Anyone can see she’s drenched. Her ripe juices drown the silk of the dress. But she does not jerk or try to escape. I relax.
Locks of his polished hair skirt her brow as he leans in. “Your body is ready, sweetheart.” He softly rubs her wet clit, triggering another whimper. “Your blood is ready.” He presses his thumb to her throbbing pulse. “And you gave him your heart that night, sweetheart.”
She’s also given me bits and pieces of her soul every night since. Aside from her occasional brat comments—her way of goading me into punishment for want of attention— she’s submitted to me in everything. Every discipline. Every kink. Every stretch of her boundaries.
Fuck…blood surges to my cock, then batters my breaches with the recognition. She’s fucking growing. We’ve spun a chrysalis of ethereal beauty, formed of the silk of shared trauma, and undying trust.
We spun it when I first chased her in the cemetery.
And when I kissed her in the dungeon.
We spun it when she found a mutual friend in Crescendo.
And when she fell in love with my Purgatory—and hosted a tea party for ghosts.
We spun it when I roared and tortured those who caused her pain.
