Giving her mercy, his fingers stopped their glide up and down her folds and instead, gripped her ass kneading there as his other hand skirted across her other nipple, being soft as a feather, then without warning pinching as hard as he could, before she could scream his hand was at her mouth holding the sound in. Dust was miles and miles from them, but one scream would find him and give him every reason to come back.
Right then, Scorpio was willing the world and all its hell away.
Toril’s whimper drew a dark ghost of grin to his lips.
“A little more then,” he rasped pushing into the tightness of her, he was only halfway inside now, but it was enough to shake the control he was valiantly displaying. Her walls were strumming with energy, slick as hell and holding him with a sheer force that was bending his mind.
The sensation was just on the brink of pain, just on the brink of being too much, desperate his hand moved back to her swollen clit. The desire to be everywhere churned his creativity to the surface. He was overflowing with vim, with incivility. His vim spread beyond holding her just off the ground. It began to shape into his own images.
One image of him was carefully holding her head back as his kiss devoured hers. Another image was content to devour her left breast, another to the right. All the sensations at once were enough to send her over the edge once more. The convulsion of her body, the rush of wetness that soaked his member only strengthened the images he had created of himself around his female.
During the rush, her body pulled him a bit further in causing all the images of him to groan and grip her flesh. Hands, so many hands everywhere, milking and milking the river flowing from her beautiful body. The image of him to the left eased his kiss down ribs as his hand moved to her ass, the other image was quick to follow, so wet, everywhere.
An image of him began to circle her entrance. If Toril had an issue with it, he couldn’t tell. She had decided if he wanted to play dirty so would she, she had coaxed the image of him that was at her lips to his knees and just then had slipped her lips over the head of his cock. Scorpio was not only forced to watch the erotic kiss perfectly accenting her lips, but he could feel it as if her kiss were on his flesh and not bathing his vim with such a sweet gift. Toril’s right hand was pulling at the hair of the image of him to the right, demanding he return to the nipple, the one to the left she had managed to grasp his shaft and was slowly gliding her hand up and down.
Hands, so many hands. His images kept their work at her entrance, so slick. One finger inside, Toril’s response was a muffled moan around the cock in her mouth and squeeze to the one in her hand. Two fingers...
“A bit more,” he gasped feeling his desire take over. It was watching her that was doing it to him. She had turned his game on him, and right then he wanted to come. Needed to, but refused. He slid a bit deeper inside, and every image of him groaned.
He felt empowered just then, as if the small rewards were enough for now as he worked feverishly to get her ready for him, all of him. Then he felt soft breast at his back. He felt hot lips landing on his neck. His head fell back finding a glorious reflection of his beloved. Her kiss fell on his as her hands moved over his body.
The fingers his image had inside her entrance stretched as his cock did the same to her walls. All at once each part of him lifted her as his legs stretched further part forcing her to do the same. Toril’s eyes met his, but she kept her touches on his delicious vim that was dead set on making her jelly in his arms. She slipped a bit further on his cock causing a collective sigh.
Behind him he could feel her vim like hands wrapped around his body then slide down his stomach before it gripped the part of him that was still outside, he thought for sure she would push him in. Instead, her grip slipped to his tight balls needing the need of release there.
Her body arched back into his image deciding to trust the experience. The other images kneaded her breasts with one hand as they pulled her cheeks apart with the other, the one behind her grinned devilishly as the fingers of the other left and the tip of his cock hit the rim of her ass.
Toril naturally tried to slide down on Scorpio, but his hold at every side of her was too strong. He captured her stare as he felt the cock of his vim push passed her tight rim. Inside her body, he could feel the power of it rubbing against him. It was his turn to thrust deep, in one swift move, all of him was inside of her. Her wetness glided over him making it easy to slide down, on his way the image of him thrust up. In and out, one turn then another, all the while the other images of him worked her body, massaging her tender nipples, reaching to press into her clit, kissing her neck, stealing her mind in every way and demanding it only notice the pleasure, the erotic rush of being alive, being powerful, fucking godly.
Her image was not idle; it had reached to connect with one of his own, kissing each other as they moved their hands across their bodies of flesh.
In and out, up and down, one gasp then another. Pressure like no other was building inside of Scorpio. Another image of her manifested and began to work the length of one of his. Right then, all three of the images and his body were being fisted, pumped, milked and willed to explode. A burn began at the crown of Scorpio’s head and moved down his body like a tornado dead set on destruction. He pumped deeper inside of her, harder, both parts of him inside did. As Toril’s body grew weak and languid, her vim grew in power and determination.
At once both images of her whispered in his ear, “Let go...”
Let go he did, his release was so powerful that every image of him flickered as he saw stars and gripped her all the tighter. When he felt her body let go, when her soaked walls gripped him with all the force of nature he was sure he would pass out at any second. Wavering he fell back gripping her hips, he was still inside her and was in no mood to leave anytime soon.
The image of him behind her slipped out, fading from sight as the ones to the right and left made good work of taking the images Toril had spun. It was their vigor, seeing how powerful their vim was, how it only grew stronger that made Scorpio’s shaft all the harder as he moved her hips in small circles on him. Or was that her. He could barely catch his breath, but she was glowing, unwilling to stop the rhythm of their bodies.
As still as they were, how gentle their moves were as their bodies stayed united felt like anything but a gentle slide down an erotic climax. They felt their vim mimicking the sensations of human flesh on either side of them. She quaked on top of him as one of her images met a climax; she had barely recovered when the other found theirs. His vim was determined to wring more and more out its prey and worked to do so suckling, thrusting, kissing and pulling all they could. Its drive gave Scorpio’s body a second wind.
Using only the power of his body, he moved her to the cool ground, a sensation that was more than welcome. He reached back and hooked her thigh high on his hip. Their images at either side of them were downright fucking, the dirtier the better, but Scorpio was intent to make love to his female. To look into her eyes as he gently rocked into her womb, to taste her lips in stolen kisses. He wanted to feel the heat of her body against his, to feel the pulse of her life reach out to his. With each deep rock into her, each shy smile that left her lips he felt closer to her. He felt as if all the years that had been stolen from them were nothing but a blink in the span of time the Creator had planned for the pair them.
The feel of her soft hands easing through his hair and drifting down his cheek as her hips lifted to take more of him turned him on more than anything they had done thus far. His speed picked up, but their stare never broke. Not a word left either one of them as the build climbed and climbed then all at once it swelled and swallowed them both. The sensation was so rich they both drifted out of their flesh only to fall back and feel the roller-coaster ride of glory.
Slipping out of Toril was not something Scorpio was willing to do easily, but his strength had its limits, out of breath he laid at her side pulling her body against his as they both chased the breath that left
them long ago.
His fingertips caressed her arm as the images of their vim faded then return to them, restoring strength beyond a level either of them could ever recall feeling. No matter how strong or revitalized either of them felt, the urge to move from the entanglement of their bodies wasn’t there.
“Where are you?” she asked once the sweat from their bodies had dried.
“Home,” he said simply.
She wasn’t sure if he was speaking of home at her side or the home she had told him to remember differently.
Carefully she rose from his side and moved to the falling water. She had lingered there for a while washing away the evidence of the rush they shared before he emerged at her side and began to wash. Innocently she helped, moving streams of water over his body.
“You fear what was taken from you,” she said soundly.
He was slow to raise his gaze to meet hers. “I fear that fear has stolen too much from us.”
“I was never afraid to love you.”
Scorpio glanced to where they had been. “I could’ve loved you like that every night for eras of time. Do you know how powerful you would be if I had? Do you realize no one would be a threat to your safety, no witch, not even an evil being who killed his own.”
Toril leaned into him. “I know that power is worthless unless you know how to live without it, it only accepts the humble. It destroys the rest.”
“There were other ways for me to live humbly,” he said not willing to let his grudge go. When he held Toril just before he was all there, not a single thought drifted to what was to come after, what he would or would not fight.
Now, his thoughts were there. They were wrestling with what he had brought on himself.
“You know as I do it is your reaction that counts not the action. Looking back, it’s easy to call us weak or say all the choices we could’ve made or should’ve made. It’s cruel to do so. The emotions shape perspective, of all souls we should know that. I was afraid. I did what I could to guide us.”
“Toril, do you understand I see no real way out of this? He glanced down over the ledge. “There is a spell in play. We can bet you did slay Reveca, but can we count on her not beating judgment? What if she does? Does that mean your life ends now?” he had to pause so his words would not shake. “Akan is lurking where we left him. He saw how it was only three of us who arrived to slay Reveca. He knows how weak we are. He’s waiting to strike, and I have every reason to believe his chances are just as strong as ours.”
She was gone from his sight before he could back up his theory. He wasn’t a self-loathing ass. He was only breaking down where the game of fate had them all rooted at the moment.
Feeling himself pulled back into the fucked life he had, Scorpio found his clothes then followed her. She was nearly dressed in another slip of gown before he made his way back to the cavern. While he fought to repair his clothes from the rips she had made around his button, she pulled her hair up into a loose bun and then made her way to the spell in action.
He had to bit his lip, telling her to be careful or not to touch would be an insult. But he’d be damned if he had ever seen a spell halt. And by all means he wanted to soak up the pause for as long as he could. His senses stretched out searching for Dust. He was making his way back from the reservation now with more supplies, even flooring it he was a good half hour away.
Watching her move around the spell with dominance stroked his ego, he’d never seen her so strong, so aware. Maybe they had already won this war, and he just didn’t know it. Scorpio took his time sliding on his boots and finding a string to weave in and around his button before shifting his belt in place. He was pulling on his kut before he said a word.
“Have you heard of such a thing?”
Toril glanced his way. “Heaven and hell agreeing?” she asked with a sigh. “Magic is more often weighted one way or another, when the sides are even there are theories such a thing could happen.”
“Theory, but no reference.”
“No agreement has ever been this balanced,” she countered.
“Nothing seems balanced to me.”
“Both sides have a stake in this outcome. Both have offered sacrifices to see theirs come to light.”
“I’ve seen no sacrifice Reveca has made for this night, Akan is a selfish fuck.”
“Reveca sacrificed her entire existence thus far, she’s willing to cash it all in for another shot at it. Akan endured an unexplainable pain all for the mistress of grief. Where they stand on the side of heaven or hell isn’t my place to say. What I know is no matter how this ends, the universe will never be the same.”
Scorpio felt a cold chill ease down his spine. He’d like to credit her deep words, for she meant them to stand as a warning, but it was something more that was tingling his awareness.
Toril’s wide eyes glanced to the spell then back to him. “Run.”
“Run? Fuck running!”
“You want to fight the phantom here? You want to destroy this spell?”
“Phantom?”
“I warned you,” her voice shrilled as the air vibrated. “I told you not to love me unless you were prepared to fight yourself.”
A harsh sense of awareness hit his expression.
“Lead it away,” Toril said vanishing to the other side of the entrance. She was no fool. She knew he’d never leave her behind, never trust this phantom was him and would not come for her as it did long ago.
What choice did he have? He chased her.
Chapter Three
Thrash could feel the thunder of his soul busting through his being. Reality had been cruel to him in the past, sure enough, but it had never fucked him so hard he was too weak to take a hit of a much-needed smoke. Speaking of...
Thrash patted his vest looking for the blunt he always kept with him. He was never sure when this bullshit would end, but once it did he hoped the smoke stayed with him. It was a tradition to bring home spoils. One blunt wasn’t much, but Thrash could not see Echo or Thames thumbing their nose at the shit this palace manifested at will.
Once he had it, he kept his stare on the blade on the floor as his lighter struck the flame that gave way to one of the deepest hits Thrash had ever taken.
Dumbfounded and double-checking his sanity, Shade dipped his head in an awkward bow toward Evanthe. It was customary to bow to royalty, and Evanthe had never been less in Shade’s mind. She saved his life when he was a nobody in the swamps. She made him fight for a life he was sure he didn’t want. In truth, Shade knew there was more between them, platonic as hell, but there was more.
Reveca and Saige may have been the princess of the dimension the Dominarum coven was created within, but it was Evanthe who carried herself with the grace of a royal. The kind of royal that people wanted to follow. Her humanity was never far from the surface; her discipline was almost always side by side with it.
Shade wanted her to be real, he’d never known Thrash to be more broken than he was over the last few months, before then he wasn’t all that perfect, but the guy had hope, he could’ve jumped on his bike and road a few miles and stolen a glimpse of her. Evanthe was a possibility then. When she left, and Bastion came to light, she became a haunt and left a crater-size hole in the Boneyard. That’s when you know you’re somebody, when you were never there, and they still mourn for you once they know you’re gone.
Shade needed her to be real for more than the sake of his boy. Evanthe had stood between the storm of Zale and Reveca since they were children, at least Shade was told as much. Surely a female who could handle that bullshit could get Reveca right. She could tell her not to come after Scorpio and tell him to chill his girl out. With Evanthe’s grace, she could have them all laughing and toasting a drink to better days in no time.
Shade was sure it wasn’t too late now, whatever had happened outside of the prison they were in couldn’t be helped—a hidden solution was on its way.
Dagen didn’t care to bow to anyone. He hardly noticed the
older woman at all. What he did recognize was a threat. Dark angels are taught how to feed and what can kill them from day one, they take neither of them lightly. The runes on the handle of the blade were beyond deadly; they were rich with a wickedness that could knock a god to his knees.
Dagen had no idea what the other symbols meant, if they enhanced or balanced the power he recognized. He simply knew this weapon could not exist, not now when everyone was twisted and way past the point of being on edge. Dagen lunged forward, a move that would have taken him to the blade and then a dimension away when this day started only moved him a few feet, at best. His sluggishness was not the reason for the ‘oh shit’ expression on his face, on everyone’s face...six figures ghosted into view, each making it very clear this blade was not meant for Dagen.
Thrash pulled deeper on his blunt, not intentionally, but it wasn’t hurting anything. If it weren’t for the chill of a high easing through his system, he would’ve passed out like a fucking puss way back when.
Shade retrieved Dagen and made it back to the threshold of the door with him, the look of disappointment on his face when the figures remained was well matched with Dagen’s. In some distant way, they both had thought if they retraced their steps Casper’s older brothers would vanish, and the rest of them could all talk this shit out like respectable immortals that were one rattle of their cage shy from completely losing their shit.
No such luck.
Thrash’s cool stare eased over the boys before him. They were boys to him. It didn’t matter that they all looked to be the same age, just past twenty at best, he could see the difference in their years in each set of eyes, some more green than others, a few with the steely gray Evanthe was known for. For everything they had in common: their towering height, broad shoulders, defined jawline, there were differences.
Six stories Thrash didn’t know. Six branches of his bloodline well primed to launch into the world unknown. Six boys that were all lacking what Bastion was rich with: a sense of humor, more importantly than the humor, the spirit of a wolf. According to Evanthe, Bastion was conceived after Thrash was immortal. There was a tiny hope that rested in Thrash’s chest that made Bastion not count.