Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Arcus is choking now, tarry black leaking from the corners of his mouth. I grasp my breast and plant one hand against his chest for balance as I fuck myself on his throbbing, swollen cock. He can still hear every word; I see the rage in his eyes. I lean down, my mouth beside his ear. “You feel so good. You’re going to make me come one last time. It’s a pity that you won’t.”
He gurgles in response.
“Your son is so much more talented than you,” I say breathlessly, leaning back and rubbing myself shamelessly. “He killed your friend the minotaur. He killed your pet horror. And he did it for me. Luthian was right. When we planned all of this together, he told me that you and your sons were too weak to resist a sweet, human pussy. I didn’t believe him, but look at you now, poor Arcus. You lapped your death straight from that source.”
His body convulses. He grimaces in agony. The skin of his chest pulls tight over his ribs as he struggles futilely for breath.
It’s beautiful.
It’s vengeance.
And I have escaped him.
I come so hard, I see stars in a sudden blackness behind my eyes, a blackness the color of Arcus’s air-deprived face. I cry out, riding the last waves of my pleasure.
When I open my eyes again, the king is dead.
And I am free.
The door bursts open and my hope plummets. I am caught. They will put me in chains. They will do worse to me than feed me to a cephalopire. I imagine hot tongs searing my flesh, consider screaming and pretending that I don’t know what’s happened.
But it isn’t the guards.
It’s Kathras.
He walks slowly to the bed, looks down with disinterest upon the face of the now dead king and me, still astride his twitching cock.
“Get up,” he says, and offers me his hand.
My entire body shakes. I’m drunk on the pleasure of my climax, but drunker still on the knowledge that I have killed. A laugh burbles from my throat. “March me to my execution. I don’t care. I’m glad he’s dead.”
Kathras shrugs. “I’m glad he’s dead, too. As I am king now, you have no fear of execution.”
I look down at the mess of his deceased father, who is rapidly melting into a disgusting puddle of black goo.
“Was it iron, then?” he asks. “It looks like it was iron.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But perhaps you shouldn’t touch me. Or the honey pot.”
He spies the spilled jar and nods. “We’ll leave it there. I’ll sprinkle some fruit around him, maybe smash a plate. You won’t be implicated.”
“You’re not angry with me?” I ask.
“It was him or me,” he says flatly. “It was always him or me. I believe that’s true of any faery king and his heir.”
“Your father saw his death reflected in you,” I muse.
“When he should have seen it in you.” Kathras narrows his eyes. “I am not so deluded by my own grandiosity that I will be an equally easy target.”
He knows, then, that he is part of Luthian’s plan. Kathras could kill me on the spot—it would be the intelligent thing to do—but while his thinking isn’t clouded by ego, he is certainly not clear-headed in his feelings for me.
“I do not wish to kill you,” I tell him, and I mean it sincerely. “My quarrel was with your father.”
“Wasn’t everyone’s?” he chuckles darkly. “This is your kill, Cenere. But it is Luthian’s revenge.”
I say nothing.
“Go. Bathe and dress and stay in your chambers. Speak to no one. When you hear of my father’s death, it will come as a shock to you. You’ll be overcome with grief,” he instructs. “If the inquisitors wish to speak with you, I’ll warn you in advance.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and leave him to stand over the faintly burbling mess of the former king.
* * * *
By nightfall, Kathras has been jailed by the inquisitors.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Luthian!” I storm into the dark, cold great hall of his house, screaming the walls down. “Luthian! Don’t ignore me!”
There is no answer.
“I’ve done exactly what you asked of me!” I shout, tears raining down my face. “I did exactly what you trained me to do, despite our broken agreement. You owe me!”
“I owe you nothing!”
The room swirls back to life all around me. The chairs, tables, the fireplace burning and the candles glowing. Luthian stands before me in his dressing gown, hair unbound around his shoulders. His eyes are blank silver with anger. “You didn’t kill Arcus for me. You killed him to save yourself!”
“From the predicament you put me in!” I shout back. “Now, an innocent faery will be put on trial for the death of the king you assassinated.”
“The king I assassinated?” He laughs venomously. “I don’t remember assassinating anyone. You, however, have just admitted it to me. Perhaps you should inform the inquisitors of their mistake and free Kathras yourself. Or would you prefer that I did?”