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My insides rot, and I want to spit at the statement, but he jerks down my other strap, exposing both my breasts. It’s nothing the court hasn’t seen, considering Merikh’s actions. But it feels far different. Layers of vulnerability and shame and violation.
While fondling my other breast and kissing along my jaw, Reaver adds, “I may not have the freedom to fuck you, but I don’t need to. Merikh will witness your pleasure upon my lap as my queen. The whipping was the rehearsal. It will bring a greater and deeper wound for all to believe I have stolen his queen and that she will scream for me in his court, especially after so much pain was dealt to her.”
“Stop!” I cry out desperately as his lips find my neck while forcing me to look down at Merikh, whose jaw is like steel, his eyes like dark blades. But those eyes do not target me. His hatred is solely for Reaver. “I won’t...you can’t make me.” I try even asthe effects of the venom ravage my system, heating my blood more, carrying me higher.
“Oh. I can. I already am.” He tortures my clit more. “You will moan. You will beg. And you will scream. Music to my ears. Torture to his. I have an invisible blade poised on the edge of your little one’s heart. And he will know he was powerless to do anything. The God of Blood was so weak and helpless, he could not prevent his old foe from resurrecting, nor from claiming the only woman he’s ever loved. And all the while, he will relive his old role for Malachor.”
Rubbing my swollen clit, shooting more pleasure through my core, Reaver raises his chin and proclaims, “The vampire!” And he thumbs my pointed nipple, tightening the pressure more.
Merikh’s eyes lock with mine. I don’t understand. I can’t function beyond the pool of liquid heat inside me. But I almost read...disdain. And defeat.
Before I can dwell on it, Merikh turns to the vampire. He doesn’t need a sword. He is the sword. His power manifests moments later when blood weeps from the vampire’s eyes and bubbles from his mouth before every drop seeps through his pores until he is fully drained. Nothing but a bag of skin and bones upon the ground.
“A fine death, my lady. Now, I lied.Thisis my favorite part. You should understand...in Malachor’s Court, there were no losers or winners. All were for his pure entertainment. And Malachor loved his entertainment.”
He pumps those fingers inside me. I’m right on the verge. Tears fog my vision, but I see the vampires on all sides of the arena closing in from the shadows. Merikh lowers his chin, his eyes fixed on the girl curled in the dirt below him.
“No!” I sob from the other vampires with a carnal gleam in their eyes.
“Yes, indeed. And you will associate such violence with pleasure,” he dictates pointedly while adding another finger, taking me to the barest edge. “Call it training, My Lady. Malachor will be far more extreme than this. Here comes the climax!” he lilts, rubbing his lips across the corner of mine, pumping those fingers in and out, pinching my nipple, tormenting my distended clit, and releasing a growl as the vampires lunge for the girl.
I turn away at the first sound of her screams. And it’s my demise. Because Reaver captures my mouth, stabbing his tongue inside and his fingers deeper inside my cunt. I come hard, falling over that edge with her screams filling the court as the orgasm rips through me. I wish I could say it wasn’t intense, but the venom wine forces it.
The nail in the coffin is Reaver pulling out of my mouth at the height of the climax and commanding me, “Sayhisname!” I grip onto that armrest, shaking my head. The screams start to fade, and before I can come down, Reaver rubs my clit again and stabs those fingers for my G-spot, blinding me into a whole new orgasm.
“Say it!”
And that torture, the invisible and acidic pins and needles, tears through my nerves, burning and threatening, heightening all the endorphins.
Adrenaline blazes through me until I’m soaring, breaking into shimmering and shattering waves against a cliffside and screaming a torture worse for Merikh than mine.
“Malachor!”
21
More blood. More punishment. More souls snuffed from existence by my hand.
MERIKH
By the endof the night, blood covers much of my figure, and Quintessa’s voice has grown hoarse from screaming my most hated name. I recognize the effects of the venom wine. And how he had to give her more. I mentally commend her for her resistance, knowing he needed it to bring her any pleasure.
The worst part is how he forces her to bring the final judgment. Her eyes splinter upon mine whenever she must spare or kill someone. She tries so very hard, and Reaver finds countless ways to prolong the torture.
I and my brothers will tend to her tonight...after I take her to the Sea of Bones.
Every time she screams, I want to dig my claws into Reaver’s throat, tear out his vocal cords, and pull his undead heart out with my bare hands. No point in imagining it. Soon, when I have nothing to lose, when we find a way to rid him of the damn mark, I’ll send her far away with the others and kill the bastard myself—slow and torturous. I’ll cut off his damn balls and shove themso far up his ass, even his intestines won’t find them, especially with how small they are.
The executions take the edge off. And the bloody blackguard knows it.
I need Kyan. No, I fucking need Shadow.
Malachor’s endless abyss of blood and death threatens to wash over me, drown me in its tide, ripping me down to become this new entity, one she could never love—nor anyone else.
Sometimes, Reaver allows victors. Other times, he allows them to fight to the death. I’ll never fathom why the crowds get off on it when any of them could easily be chosen. My Court has turned into one massive hive of sex, blood, and hunger.
It’s too familiar.
The screams haunt me to this day. So many centuries with Kyan, with my brothers, away from my court, I’d trained myself to forget. My times with Kyan and Shadow numbed the scars I never wanted to feel again. Quintessa...obliterates them.
