His words sent shivers down her spine. Agnes’s bold grin was all the answer Thorn needed, as his gaze slowly raked over every inch of her in that stunning gown. He entangled one callused hand in her wavy locks, the other roving over her hips and finally finding its home at her rear. Everywhere he touched felt like the answer to some ungodly prayer.
Not able to hold back any longer, Agnes unleashed herself upon him, losing herself to the music. Their mouths touched and electricity kindled within her core. Their kisses were an assault, a frenzy of teeth and tongues. Tasting, exploring. The hardness of him pressed against the front of her dress right where she needed him as they drew even closer.
Slowly, they danced towards the edge of the room, their limbs entwined as they swayed and explored each other’s bodies, their lips never parting. The music seemed to make everything else fall away, heightening their focus on each other. Only their touch and the feel of each other mattered. Their senses of need and want overcoming all rational thought. Heat flooded Agnes’s core as Thorn lifted her into the air, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, causing her dress to split up to the thigh. She did not care in the slightest.
The God of War carried her out of the great banquet hall with such inconceivable gentleness, she might have believed he cared for her in some soul-deep way. They crossed through an ornate archway into the darkness of the balcony, with only the firelight seeping from the hall and the full moon’s radiant light to guide their way.
Countless stars twinkled around them in the night sky, their clear, vibrant glow a mesmerizing sight to behold. Around the balcony’s edge wove a waist-high railing covered with vines of night blooming blossoms. Thorn delicately rested Agnes atop the railing.
The God slowly withdrew his soft lips from hers to take in the view of her perched like a Goddess amongst the clouds, her hair nearly glowing in the moonlight.
“Magnificent,” he breathed in that husky accent, making her knees weak.
Agnes pulled him closer once more, craving the feel of his skin pressed against her own. She was hungry for his touch. Not willing to wait any longer, she leaned forward and began greedily untying his tight black leather pants, before wrapping a hand around the hard silken length of him. The God released a moan of pleasure, his power rippling off him in a wave of ecstasy. The size of him took her breath away. If she had still been human, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to handle him.
Thorn leaned into her touch, moving in turn with her hand as she slid up and down the length of him. His lips and teeth found her neck and devoured her. The God’s rough hand began exploring her breast. The feel of her peaked nipples and the tight, quick pulsing of her hand drew another primal moan from the God, echoing her own as she leaned into his touch.
A wall of cyclonic dark wind raised around them, blocking them from prying eyes. The God of War grasped her waist and lowered her from the balcony. He fell to his knees and took his time as he hitched the slightly damp skirt of her gown.
The sight of the God knelt before her was breathtaking. Thorn treated her with a reverence she was not used to, and it tugged on her few remaining heartstrings, forging her anew. He took his time with her, feasting upon her, drawing out her pleasure and savoring her. His tongue explored her, teasingly enough that she couldn’t help but grab fistfuls of his hair and urge him on. She writhed against his fingers and the roguish tongue that drew such gloriously sinful sensations from her. He worshipped her in such a way she never wanted it to end.
Agnes had never felt such desire and indulgence, had never been treated with such care and affection. She had never connected with anyone like this before. The way she was bullied and felt unloved as a child, had caused her to build a wall around her emotions to protect herself from being hurt. Here with Thorn, she felt those walls starting to breakdown as a flood of emotions washed over her. She could give affection and receive it freely in return. Agnes did not feel so cold and empty anymore. With Thorn, she felt wanted rather than used.
Agnes moaned as she leaned into Thorn’s touch. She had never felt so on the verge of teetering over the edge in ecstasy; she couldn’t imagine ever experiencing such immense pleasure again. She relished every moment, delighting in the frenzy and the exquisite feel of him.
As he rose from his knees, the wall of wind raging around them, he not-so-gently turned her around, one hand fisted in her skirts, the other hand wrapped around her front so he could grasp her firm breasts again as he plummeted inside her.
She saw stars as pure decadence flooded her core. Only this mattered, only their joining. In and out, the steady thrum of him inside of her. She needed more of him, needed all of him; the heat and desire growing within her begging for release.
The God of War moaned in frustration, wanting full access to her, the tightly fitted gown depriving him of her. With a whisper of his dark power, her gown fizzled into a stream of smoke, leaving her utterly bare before him. He released an appreciative groan as he continued adoring her breasts, worshipping her behind, and fucking her as if she were the only thing in the universe that mattered.
Leaning forward, one hand steadying her against the railing, her free fingers explored that spot just above where his cock thrusted inside her. Massaging that bundle of nerves her breathing turned to rasps.
“Holy rutting Gods,” she moaned.
The feeling of him pressed against her skin was the only thing keeping her tethered to the universe. Faster and faster, he pulsed inside her. With each stroke he pushed deeper within her as she continued to revel in her own touch. Excruciating pleasure washed through her burning her from the inside out.
Without warning, Thorn withdrew from her fully, spinning her around so she was facing him and lifting her gently back onto the rail. She bunched her hands in his gloriously thick and wavy hair. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow and trailed down his now bare chest. When he had taken his shirt off, she couldn’t recall. She stared at him, in awe at the tight muscles, the dip in his abdomen that led to his hard length, promising more to come. She greedily drank in the sight of him.
The God of War slid back inside her. With one hand he resumed exploring her breasts, while the other dropped precariously low, until he found that sensitive bundle of nerves she had just been tending to and drew out her pleasure. Thorn massaged that spot in such a way that made Agnes gasp, and this time she was sure there was no coming back from such an experience as this. He would ruin sex for her. It would never feel as good again as it did right now, she was sure of it.
She thanked the stars, rather than the Gods, for granting her this one moment, this one damn moment, where nothing else mattered but her and the God before her. He elicited sounds from her that Agnes hadn’t even known were possible.
Onward he thrust, faster and faster, harder and harder. The pressure inside her so strong she thought she might tear in two from ecstasy. With one final thrust, they both found their pleasure, Thorn moaning and Agnes releasing a scream of undiluted joy. He rolled his hips into her hers, slower and slower, drawing out that moment, the incomparable sensation. Her head lolled back, her eyes fluttering closed as she enjoyed every wave of contentment that washed over her.
She couldn’t imagine returning to living a life so emotionally closed off as she had before today. The walls she had built over the years in her mind had thoroughly shattered and she never wanted to go back to that dark, lonely way of existing ever again.
After he finally stilled within her, Agnes lifted her head and they caught each other’s gaze, heat smoldering in their eyes. The music floating outside seemed to release a sigh of relief that its call had been answered.
Shoulders back, Thorn’s lips pulled into a smug smile of satisfaction as he withdrew from her. Agnes quirked her eyebrow, daring him to voice whatever cocky thought was running through his mind. But he held back, as if he too did not want to ruin the moment, as if their joining had been just as life-altering for him as it had been for her.
With a flick
of the God of War’s power, he was redressed and Agnes was dressed again in an exact replica of the deep red silk gown she had worn before he had turned it into ash and smoke.
“Of all the dresses you could have magicked up, you recreated this one. Why?” she asked genuinely curious.
His face softened as he gazed upon her with such adoration that she felt unworthy.
“Because the way you look in that dress, makes me want to fall at my knees and worship you over and over again. You are beautiful Agnes, inside and out.”
He spoke with such conviction and kindness that it took her breath away. She blushed, tears welling in her eyes. She gave him a small, genuine smile and threw her arms around him. He hugged her in return. Even if the realm was about to go to hell, as Thorn put it, they would still have this untainted, blissful memory.
*
23
The God of War
Beneath the moonlight, Thorn marveled at the woman he held. He had meant every word he had said.
“That damn dress,” he breathed breaking the tension.
Agnes huffed a laugh and pulled away from their embrace.
Thorn couldn’t believe how far he had allowed things to go. Allowing himself to fall prey to the power of the music, fucking her as he did. He had been reckless for so many reasons. He had worshipped her as though she were the only woman that had and ever would matter to him. He sighed.
The God of War would never admit it outright, but he knew it was always going to end that way. The moment he pinned her to the floor in the suite and she smirked back at him in challenge, he knew he had finally met his match. And that wicked, awful mouth of hers…
“Holy rutting Moor, I am in such deep shit,” he moaned, finally dropping the tunnel of wind around them, revealing them once more to anyone venturing out onto the balcony.
Judging by Agnes’s returning gaze, she seemed inclined to agree, but he beheld not a single ounce of regret in that piercing gaze. She had enjoyed herself just as much as he had; he knew that based on the sweet moans of satisfaction he’d elicited from her—a thought that boosted his ego to no end.
The way she looked at him now and he at her, gave him goosebumps He had never felt that connected to anyone before. He didn’t know what that meant and now was not the time to overanalyze his feelings given the chaos that was shortly to ensure.
Those full red lips and those glorious breasts framed perfectly in that gown still taunted him. It took all his self-control not to whisk her away to his suite and see what else that mischievous mouth of hers could do.
Then he felt her approach…
“Fuck!” Thorn cursed, turning abruptly from Agnes to face his youngest sister as she neared.
Dressed in an elegant shimmering golden gown, much like the one their mother Aria had worn to lunch, Chiara, the Goddess of Light, dazzled like a ray of sunshine.
“Hello darling brother of mine,” she smiled. “It has been an age.”
She pulled him into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Thorn kissed her brow in return, before pulling out from her embrace to look her over. Chiara hadn’t changed at all since he had last seen her. Still lovely as always. The Goddess of Light was the personification of decency, having remained untainted by corrupt immortals. Though he was sure she had grown wiser to the ways of the universe—it was impossible not to. Even confined to the Afterworld, granting ‘happily-ever-afters’ to deserving souls, he was sure she had learned a thing or two about the ways of the many realms.
“You’re looking radiant, sister,” he said with a warm smile. “The Afterworld must be treating you well. How have you been?”
At this point he knew he would say and do anything to distract his sister from the guest he was obviously trying—and failing miserably—to conceal behind him.
“I am wonderful, as always. The Afterworld keeps me busy. It is a thankless job, oh wait—no it isn’t!” She teased with a wink. “Of course, all my subjects adore me and I them.”
Thorn nodded his head in understanding, though the idea of anyone worshipping him for any reason other than to request victory and protection on the battlefield was a wholly unfamiliar concept.
“I was just heading back to the ball. Would you care to join me, sister?” Thorn asked a little too obviously, offering her his arm, but Chiara was having none of it and pushed past him, heading straight for Agnes.
Chiara raked her gaze over Agnes through fluttering eye lashes.
“Well, look who we have here,” she leaned forward placing a hand over her heart. “The lady of the hour. The soul who appeared to not only redeem my sister’s heart, but who has also stolen the heart of my brother it seems.”
She grinned at them both. Thorn froze. There was no avoiding the conversation then. He waited to see how it would all play out and prayed Agnes turned on that hidden charm that had won him over.
“You must be a prize indeed…” Chiara trilled, the sound unnervingly like their mother.
Agnes had the good sense to bow for the Goddess before thanking her for her kind words. Chiara approached Agnes and surveyed her like a hawk.
“Of course, I didn’t think such a task could be achieved,” Chiara hummed in that annoying way Thorn was used to her doing as a child.
Thorn had always hated the way Chiara drew out her musings rather than cutting to the point. His sister enjoyed dangling pieces of information over people, toying with them before her grand reveal.
“With all due respect, Goddess, I’m not sure what you mean… What didn’t you think could be achieved?” Agnes replied as she fidgeted with her fingers.
Chiara’s eyes sparkled, her answering grin startling.
“I am referring to your miraculous redemption, of course,” Chiara replied, her smile crinkling her eyes. “I must admit that I still find it rather hard to believe, I’m afraid. Especially after meeting with your family in the Afterworld.”
‘Oh fuck.’ Thorn wasn’t sure he was breathing. He had taken on fierce armies in his life. He had faced off against his father on multiple occasions, but Chiara—he had not expected this from her of all people. If she suspected anything, their whole plan could be ruined.
“That was, of course, why I couldn’t be here to join you for lunch,” Chiara continued, laying out the breadcrumbs as she liked to do. “I felt it was my duty to speak with your family to see if they believed your change of conscience was possible. Like obtaining a character reference. I must admit that your father, Titian, was less than convinced. As for your mother, Amealiana, she was hopeful. A mother always sees the best in her children, even the wretched ones. It was Annie, surprisingly, that strongly advocated for you. Though she sees the good in all people, so unfortunately her opinion carries little weight.”
Tears welled in Agnes’s eyes at the mention of her family. But she schooled her features and donned the mask she wore like armor. Thorn had to admit the girl was tough. She had to have been to have survived The Pitts for so long.
Agnes ran a hand threw her hair as she took a slow deep breath.
“Thank you for speaking with them. Many a time I have wondered how they still feel about me,” Agnes spoke softly and sincerely. Her shoulders slumped as she sighed. “I know that I have caused them harm, and for that I am deeply sorry. I want to be reunited with them so I can seek their forgiveness. I assure you, Goddess, my intentions are honorable. I just want a second chance to change my ways,” Agnes claimed with another bow of her head.
Thorn felt the truth in her words and it surprised him. She wasn’t perfect, she had done inconceivable things to those closest to her, but she was trying to change. She was trying to better herself. There was something so refreshingly unique about her that had him thoroughly ensnared in her web.
Chiara twisted her mouth crinkling her nose.
“We’ll see…” she murmured, eyeing her suspiciously.
Thorn gave Agnes a small smile he hoped conveyed that he believed her, even though Chiara didn’t. He saw her so
ul and he did not recoil from it, not anymore.
Then Chiara turned back to Thorn. Her frown replaced unnervingly easily with her usual warm, hopeful smile. Chiara clapped gleefully like a giddy schoolgirl.
“I hear congratulations are in order on your promotion!”
For once Thorn had no idea what she was talking about, but her enthusiasm had him on high alert.
“Out with it, Chiara,” he grumbled folding his arms.
‘Of course, Chiara, our parents’ favorite, would know what was happening in my life even before I do.’
He looked down his nose at her petite frame, easily a foot taller than she and felt his blood boiling.
“What do you know that I don’t?” he bristled.
Chiara pressed a hand to her heart.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” she chimed. “Why I thought it was public knowledge by now… You will be replacing Nushka as Ruler of The Pitts of Moor.” Her eyes glittering, she waited for his reaction.
Thorn stood frozen. His heart was a thundering beast within him, his palms starting to perspire. He didn’t realize when he was sent to interrogate Agnes earlier that it was his only chance to save himself from Nushka’s fate. Archè and Aria would banish him for failing to come up with a reason to keep Nushka contained.
If tonight’s rebellion did not go to plan, he would be banished to Rule over Moor for all eternity. He would be sent to a place unworthy of even the foulest creatures of the mortal world. He was going to be sick…
Breathing rapid, Thorn attempted to compose himself. Judging by the way Chiara grinned, he knew she had been satisfied by his shocked reaction, though a tinge of disappointment also gleamed in her eyes, likely hoping for him to explode and cause a scene. If Thorn had any regrets about siding with Nushka and Lilith, that guilt was completely eradicated. He was overcome with all-consuming rage. He didn’t know why he had expected anything less from the Rulers. Even after knowing all that Lilith and Nushka had endured, some small part of him still thought that Aria and Archè loved their children. How wrong he had been. He and his siblings were merely pawns for the King and Queen to wield as they saw fit. They didn’t give a damn about their children’s wellbeing.
The Goddess of Blood and Bone Page 15
