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My eyes are still fixed to the stage. The woman is now a mangled mess of shredded skin and muscle, she’s skittering onthe ground attempting to get away from Constantine but she has nowhere to hide.
Wolfgang’s fingers slip back to my clit, wet with my arousal. His lips return to the shell of my ear. “But then I witnessed you watching me take a life.” His slow circles over my clit become harder and tighter, and I start to feel myself tip over the edge. My hips begin to follow his movements as my head falls backward onto his shoulder, palms flying to his thighs, my sharp nails digging into his trousers and the hard muscles underneath.
I can barely breathe, can barely swallow.
I’m chasing the smooth cadence of his words almost as much as his touch.
Constantine delivers the final blow to the woman’s head with a wide beatific smile and unceremoniously moves on to the next person with a small skip in her step.
“And then I experienced the intoxicating thrill of your rapt attention,” he growls into my ear. It’s my turn to grind myself against Wolfgang’s hard cock, and this time I’m unable to suppress the low moan that follows. My hand wraps around his wrist as my orgasm furiously builds and builds. “And now I wonder if anything will ever come close to that feeling ever again.” I can feel his battering pulse under my palm. “The thought makes me sick,” he spits.
My mouth falls open as the pleasure explodes in a burst of blinding bliss, and my knees almost buckle under the weight of my climax. Wolfgang fucks me with three fingers through it all, the palm on my stomach digging into me.
“My ruin.” His delighted hum feels almost perverse while his fingers are still deep inside of me. The tip of his nose trails up my neck. “Aren’t you glad I made you come this time?” he muses. He pitches his hips forward, reminding me how hard he still is. “Remember, Crèvecoeur?” His body tenses while his mouthremains next to my ear. “When you served your cunt up on a silver platter for me at Manor?”
I freeze, my mind still on fire, a smallWhat?tumbling over my lips.
His chuckle is filled with darkness. “Pretty little crescent moon you have tattooed on your hip,” he taunts hoarsely before ripping his hand out of my skirt and shoving me away, leaving me breathless and keening.
By the time I’ve turned around, he’s disappeared into the crowd
26
MERCY
“Ionce gouged someone’s eye out just two doors down from here,” Constantine sing-songs as she walks through the entrance of our personal seamstress’ studio, the door held open by Constantine’s pet, Albert. It’s a small space, with heavy black curtains framing the windows and a busy floral wallpaper covering most of the space.
“Am I meant to be surprised by that?” Belladonna responds with a hint of disdain as we both walk in after her. “I bet it would be easier to list off places around Pravitia where youhaven’tmaimed anyone.”
Belladonna’s coldness towards Constantine could easily be explained by old family feuds but in truth, she just doesn’t understand Constantine’s appeal and only tolerates her in small doses. I’m usually the one who forces her into it—like today. Constantine, however, has never cared about what other people think of her or bothers to keep track of the feuds between the six ruling families.
She giggles and turns to face us, pleated pink skirt twirling. “That’s a good point, Bee.”
Temperance—seamstress to the ruling class—appears from the back wearing a gold mumu, her curly brown hair pulled into a chignon. She’s been ancient for as long as I can remember; I’m always half-surprised when I don’t feel death lurking in the shadows anytime I visit her. “Girls!” she says theatrically. “Always so lovely to see you.”
She walks up to me first and places her hands on my shoulders, giving me two air kisses before sweeping her gaze up and down, seemingly taking me in.
“Power is becoming on you, my dear,” she says.
Her tone is far too warm for my comfort. I ignore how her compliment makes my chest tingle while I give her a tight-lipped smile, quickly removing myself from her grasp. Not bothered by my lack of response, she moves to the two others before clasping her hands together, multiple rings clinking, and surveys all three of us.
“Just shy of two weeks until the inauguration,” she muses. “You didn’t give me much time.”
“Oh Tempie, I’m sure the dresses will be as breathtaking as always,” Belladonna chirps.
“I’ve been busy,” I say under my breath at the same time.
Typically, I would have Temperance come to me, but I desperately needed out of Mount Pravitia this morning.
The executions were just yesterday, but time seems to have stopped, subjecting me to a cursed limbo state where I’m incessantly haunted by Wolfgang’s final words and the unnerving pleasure of the ghost of his touch.
Wolfgang was the man who left me high and dry at Manor.
How did that even happen? Was it on purpose? Or just a baffling and horrifying coincidence? Andwhydid he not say anything sooner?
All questions I should confront Wolfgang with. Instead, I’m avoiding him. I can’t stand the thought that he kept this hidden from me for almost a month.
His move was calculated. He knew he had the upper hand.
