CHAPTER THIRTYݍEIGHT
IN POWER AND PLAY
he manacles bit into my wrists, sweet and familiar as old lovers.T The guards had been rougher than usual tonight, jerking my arms high until my toes barely brushed the ground. I considered apologizing to my young guard for breaking his nose, but decided against it. He should have known the dangers of restraining a wild thing.
I closed my eyes, savoring the anticipation twisting in my chest. Although tonight began the same as so many before it, it would end differently. I knew Valen wanted me, and I couldn’t deny a part of me wanted him as well.
Besides, I would take pleasure over pain any day.
This wasn’t because I was angry with Death. It wasn’t. Truly. Honestly, I should thank him—for helping me see what I’d refused to admit. I wouldn’t be the pawn in this divine triangle. I would be the force tilting the board.
Still, I was so angry with Death.
I could sense his attention, could feel the way his consciousness pressed against the boundaries of his prison. Watching. Waiting. Listening.
I kept my eyes closed, a soft smile spreading across my face. I would show him the kind of chaos a toy could unleash when she stopped playing by the rules fate had written for her.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled me from my thoughts— measured, deliberate, each step calculated to inspire dread in whoever waited to receive his attention. Valen’s footsteps, as familiar to me now as my own heartbeat. But tonight, instead of the usual spike of fear and reluctant
anticipation, I felt only a dark, eager pleasure.
I heard him pause at the threshold of my cell, iron hinges protesting as they swung open to admit the Blood God into my domain. I didn’t lift my lids immediately, didn’t rush to acknowledge his presence. Instead, I let him take in the sight of me—suspended, waiting, seemingly docile in my bonds.
When I finally opened my eyes to meet his, I let a slow, wicked smile curve across my lips.
“Husband,” I purred, savoring the word like spoiled wine, letting it roll off my tongue. “You kept me waiting.”
Valen stood just inside my cell, backlit by the torches in the corridor. His face was half-shadow, half-firelight, the planes of his features sharp enough to cut. He wore the simple black tunic and trousers he favored for our sessions, the fabric doing little to conceal the powerful build beneath. His dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that would have once made me shrink
back.
Shrinking was beneath me.
Valen stepped fully into the cell, and I watched with satisfaction as something shifted in his expression. His black eyes, usually so controlled and calculating, flickered with surprise at my tone, my posture, the way I seemed to welcome his presence rather than hide from it. There was suspicion there too, wariness that suggested he recognized the change in me even if he couldn’t yet identify its source.
“Impatient, are we?” Valen asked, his voice carrying its usual controlled amusement, but I caught the slight roughness beneath the silk. “How unlike you, to be eager for my attention.”
I shifted my weight, allowing my body to sway gently in the chains. The movement caused the torn hem of my gown to ride higher on my thighs. His gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, before snapping back to my face.
“I missed you,” I said, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
Valen took a step closer, his movements suddenly less fluid, as if he were forcing himself to maintain control. “When I bit you? When you went mad with my blood in your veins?” His lips curved into a cruel smile. “Or when you begged for relief like my little whore?”
The words were designed to shame me, to remind me of my place. Once, they would have succeeded. Now, I laughed—a soft, throaty sound that seemed to catch him by surprise.
“All three,” I admitted, watching his face carefully. “I was thinking about how your teeth felt against my skin. How your blood tasted.” I paused, licking my lips deliberately. “And how I touched myself afterward.”
Death’s reaction was immediate. Yet, instead of the anger I would expect, dark amusement rippled through the stone, accompanied by a satisfaction so palpable I could almost taste it on my tongue.
He should be angry. Why would he feel any sort of mirth?
Valen’s expression suddenly transformed, a predatory gleam replacing the momentary surprise in his eyes. He moved closer, the space between us charged with dangerous intent.
“Did you now?” His smile turned knowing, wolfish. “And did my queen find her release?”
I bit my lower lip, a calculated gesture of feigned shyness that contrasted with my bold words. I nodded slowly, watching his reaction through half- lidded eyes.
His smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp for a mortal man. In three fluid steps, he closed the distance between us. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the back of my neck with possessive strength, thumb pressing against my pulse point.
“Did you know,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, “you could only come if you were thinking of me? Could only reach that precipice if you were so consumed, by lust, for me?”
The certainty in his voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. I hadn’t known that particular detail—that the bloodlust demanded such focus.
Death had never mentioned it.
But that meant… Death knew.
He’d known that when I’d tried to touch myself in the madness of bloodlust, I would have only found release by thinking of Valen. And when I tried, and I couldn’t… He knew. Had known all along that in that moment of desperation, Valen hadn’t been alone in my thoughts.
I forced my expression to remain unchanged, though I could feel heat rising to my cheeks. Death’s silent laughter seemed to fill the space between my heartbeats, a private mockery that only I could hear.
The smug bastard was enjoying this.
But two could play at this game. I leaned into Valen’s touch, letting my
lips part slightly as I met his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Of course, I was thinking of you,” I murmured, my voice dropping to a breathy whisper. “Every touch. Every breath. I was consumed, thinking about how you feel pressed against me, how your hands feel on my skin.”
The lies slipped from my lips like silk, smooth and practiced. I pressed closer to him, letting my body communicate what my words promised.
Valen’s grip tightened, his thumb tracing the rapid pulse at my throat.
“Such a sweet mouth you have,” he said, but there was heat in his voice now, desire bleeding through the mockery. “Tell me more about these fantasies, my queen.”
I let my head fall back slightly, exposing more of my throat to his touch.
“I imagined you taking me against the wall,” I said, my voice catching, a sound that wasn’t disingenuous. “Your hands in my hair, your mouth on my neck. I imagined begging you not to stop.”
The words were calculated, designed to inflame him while reminding the god beside me that I could not be claimed. Behind the stone wall, I felt Death’s amusement shift, becoming something sharper, more dangerous, the temperature in my cell dropping several degrees.
They thought I existed to play in their games? Well, it was time they played mine.
Valen’s expression darkened further, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Are you still feeling my blood’s effects, Princess?” He asked, a thread of uncertainty painting his tone.
“Would that please you?” I countered. “To know that you have corrupted me so thoroughly?”
He traced the curve of the leather collar around my throat with his free hand, his touch feather-light. “Corruption?” He paused, my breath hitching as his finger gently grazed my skin. “Corruption implies there was something pure to begin with.”
I didn’t flinch at his words. Instead, I leaned further into his touch, letting my eyelids flutter closed for just a moment, a soft sigh escaping my parted lips.
“You’re right,” I whispered, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. “Your blood merely awakened what was already there.”
His pupils dilated at my words, words that were nearly repeated from Death’s lips, but still held truth. His finger continued its lazy circuit around my collar, occasionally dipping beneath the leather to brush against the
sensitive skin of my throat.
“What game are you trying to play with me, Princess?” Valen asked, his voice dropping lower, rougher.
I leaned forward as much as the chains would allow, until my lips nearly brushed his. “No game,” I breathed, feeling him go still. “I just thought... if you were going to continue to torture me, I may as well enjoy it.”
He seized my jaw in his large hand, fingers digging into my cheeks. The heat of his skin burned against mine, his grip just shy of painful.
“You expect me to believe this sudden... enthusiasm... isn’t some pathetic attempt to manipulate me?” His thumb brushed along my lower lip, the touch incongruously gentle compared to his harsh words. “Do you think I haven’t seen this strategy before? The captive seducing her captor, thinking to soften his heart?”
I smiled against his thumb. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to soften your heart?” I laughed, the sound vibrating against his hand. “We both know you don’t have one to soften.”
His grip tightened momentarily, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Then what—is—this?”
“This,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, “is me acknowledging what we both know as truth… I want you.”
Death’s fury slammed against my consciousness, chains rattling with such violence I felt the vibrations through the stone floor. Good. Let him understand that his dismissal had consequences, that calling me entertainment would not go unanswered.
I held Valen’s gaze, refusing to look away as his eyes searched mine for deception, showing no indication that he heard the God in the cell beside us.
His thumb pressed harder against my lower lip, testing, probing for weakness.
“You still hate me,” Valen said, not a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes,” I admitted, the word escaping breathlessly. “With every fiber of
my being.”
“I killed your family.”
“You did.”
“I destroyed your kingdom.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve tortured you. Humiliated you. Broken you.”
I smiled, the expression, I knew, was sharp enough to cut. “You will
never break me.”
Valen hummed, releasing me, causing me to sway in my bounds, my shoulders screaming at the shift. But I kept my face impassive, holding his gaze as he circled behind me.
His breath stirred the hair at the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
“I’m not so sure about that, sparrow,” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing my ear. “Your song seems to have sweetened to a tune just for me.”
I almost gasped at his endearment, recalling our dance at the welcome feast. That felt like lifetimes ago, a different Mireille and Valen. Merely a princess and a king, before we became captive and god.
Yet, maybe we had always been this. Maybe we were always meant to be this.
His hand came to rest on my hip, fingers splaying wide over the thin fabric of my gown. The touch seared through me, igniting nerves I hadn’t realized were waiting for his contact. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound, but couldn’t stop my body from arching slightly into his hand.
He was still for a long moment, and I could not help but turn my head to meet his gaze.
Valen’s eyes were storms—dark, violent, churning with emotions too complex for me to name. For a moment, I thought I’d pushed too far, that he would revert to simple violence, to the lash or the blade.
Instead, his hand moved from my hip to my waist, then higher, skimming the curve of my breast through the torn silk. My breath hitched, a soft sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.
Valen groaned with approval, his breath hot and dangerous as it ghosted across my lips. His thumb brushed across my nipple through the silk, and I couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through me. “Tell me, Princess, what exactly do you want from me?”
I leaned back against him, feeling the heat of his body radiate through the thin fabric separating us. “I want...” I hesitated, letting the words spill from my lips on a breath, my silver eyes flicking between his crimson ones, “I want you. All of you.”
“You play with forces you don’t understand,” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing mine. “Divine hunger is not like human desire. It consumes.
It devours. It leaves nothing behind.”
“Don’t you see? That’s what I want,” I whispered back, my gaze drifting
to his lips. “To be consumed. To be devoured. By you.”
The tension between us snapped. Valen’s control—that perfect, godlike restraint—fractured before my eyes. His hand grasped the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he closed the last breath of space between us.
His mouth claimed mine with savage intensity, the kiss nothing like the last, the kiss from our wedding night. This was raw, primal, a hunger too long denied. His teeth caught my lower lip, not quite breaking the skin but hard enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.
I moaned against his mouth, the sound neither feigned nor restrained. My body arched toward his, chains rattling above me as I strained against my bonds. This—this was what I had been waiting for, what I had been provoking. Not just his desire, but the loss of his perfect control. The God of Blood and Conquest, undone by a mere mortal.
Undone by me.
Valen’s hands roamed my body, no longer tentative or questioning. They claimed, possessed, demanded. He tore the already ruined gown, the sound of ripping silk sharp in the close confines of the cell. Cool air rushed against my exposed skin, raising goosebumps that his burning touch immediately soothed.
“My insatiable little wife wants to be fucked in her cell?” he growled against my throat, teeth grazing the bite mark he’d left the night before.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, demanding entry that I willingly granted. The kiss deepened, turning molten, consuming. I tasted the ancient power that flowed through his veins, felt it ignite an answering heat in my core.
My wrists strained against the leather cuffs, the inability to reciprocate his touch its own form of torment.
Valen’s hands fully cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing across nipples already hardened from the chill and my arousal. The rough pads of his fingers against my sensitive skin sent sparks of pleasure spiraling through me.
“So responsive,” he pulled back to look at me, voice rough with desire.
“So eager for the touch of the man who destroyed your family, your kingdom.”
It was a deliberate attempt to shatter the moment, to remind me of who he was, of what stood between us. Once, it may have worked. Now, I let my lips curve into a smile that mirrored his own predatory one.
“Does that disturb you, husband? That I can desire the monster as well as hate him?”
His eyes darkened, pupils expanding. “You should fear me,” he growled, one hand sliding down my stomach to the juncture of my thighs. “You should tremble at my touch.”
I gasped as his fingers found the wet heat between my legs, but didn’t look away. “I do,” I whispered. “But not from fear.”
His touch grew more insistent, more possessive. One finger slid inside me, then another, his thumb circling my clit with unerring accuracy. My hips bucked against his hand, chains rattling as my body sought more, deeper, harder.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Valen demanded, his fingers curling inside me in a way that made my vision blur at the edges. “Say it.”
I bit my lip, not from modesty but to savor the moment of making him wait, of denying him the immediate satisfaction of my response. His fingers stilled, his eyes narrowing.
“Say it,” he repeated, voice dropping to that dangerous register that sent shivers down my spine.
I held his gaze, my own falling half-lidded with desire. “I want you inside me,” I said, each word deliberate, unashamed. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.
Like you mean it.”
I felt Death’s rage surround me, pushing my pleasure higher. I ignored him, all my focus now centered around the God in my cell.
Valen’s gaze darkened further, a storm brewing in those fathomless depths. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Be careful what you wish for, Princess.”
His fingers withdrew from my core, and I whimpered at the sudden loss, the emptiness where pleasure had thrived. The sound seemed to please him, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
He moved to face me, his hands working at the laces of his trousers, movements quick and slightly uncoordinated. What a sight, the God of Blood and Conquest fumbling like an eager youth.
When he freed himself, I couldn’t help the appreciative sound that escaped my throat. Even in the dim light of the cell, I could see the impressive length of him, hard and ready. My body clenched in anticipation, remembering the feel of him.
Valen lifted me by the waist, the chains above me rattling as he
positioned himself between my spread thighs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and insistent but not yet breaching me, as if waiting for me to pull away. Waiting for me to change my mind.
Instead, I wrapped my legs around his waist, using the leverage to press
myself closer.
“Fuck me, husband,” I breathed.
With a groan that seemed torn from somewhere deep within him, Valen thrust forward, filling me in one powerful stroke. The sensation was overwhelming—stretching, burning, pleasure so intense it mingled with pain.
I cried out, head falling back, eyes closing as my body adjusted to his invasion.
“Look at me,” he commanded, one hand fisting in my hair to pull my head back up. “I want to see those silver eyes when I take you.”
I obeyed, opening my eyes to find his face inches from mine, his gaze intense and searching. There was something vulnerable in that demand, something almost human in his need to witness my response.
He began to move then, slow, powerful thrusts that would have driven me backward if not for the chains holding me in place. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, building upon each other until I could barely think beyond the sensation of him inside me, filling me, claiming me.
“More,” I demanded, voice breaking with desire. “Harder.”
Valen groaned, moving his face to press against my throat, teeth grazing the tender skin there. His pace increased, each thrust more punishing than the last. I could feel every inch of him—the ridged piercings along his length creating exquisite friction that made me gasp with each movement. My body responded eagerly, arching toward him to accommodate his considerable size.
My eyes drifted to Death’s cell as Valen continued his assault on my neck. I could feel his rage like a physical presence, cold fury pressing against my consciousness. The knowledge that he was there, listening, watching in whatever way gods could see through stone and darkness, sent a perverse thrill through me. Let him hear my pleasure. Let him know what he had cast aside.
“Is this what you imagined?” Valen growled against my shoulder, his rhythm never faltering. “When you touched yourself?”
His words immediately drew a high-pitched sound from me—the memory
of my harbinger’s voice in the darkness, commanding me to pleasure myself while his blood drove me to madness, suddenly vivid in my head. ‘Thinking of me, little fawn?’ A gasp escaped me. The deep, masculine voice came not from his cell, but directly in my mind.
“Answer me,” Valen demanded, his thrusts becoming harder, more punishing as he pulled back to meet my eyes. ‘Answer him.’ Death’s mocking voice said. ‘Tell him how you came all over your fingers to my voice, like the filthy little prisoner you are.’ I whimpered, caught between two forces—the physical presence of Valen and the ethereal intrusion of Death. My body clenched around Valen’s length, drawing a hiss of pleasure from his lips.
He took my reaction as a yes, his smile savage and triumphant. One hand grasped the back of my neck, holding me in place, while the other slid between our bodies, finding my clit and circling it with maddening precision.
The dual assault was too much—pleasure spiraling tighter, higher, my body trembling on the edge of release. ‘Naughty girl,’ Death chided. ‘You know, I can accept one lie. Maybe two. But how many has it been now—three? Four? Were you not taught that little liars get punished?’ I bit my lip hard, the pain anchoring me as I tried to ignore Death’s taunts. The tension in my body only heightened the pleasure, causing my thighs to pull Valen even closer.
“Such a greedy thing,” Valen hissed, misinterpreting my response as enthusiasm for him alone. His fingers worked more insistently against that bundle of nerves, his rhythm growing more erratic as his own pleasure built. ‘Do you think you deserve to come, little fawn? We both know how pretty you sound when you do. But, tell me, do you deserve it?’ I squeezed my eyes shut, the force of Death’s presence pressing heavily in the corners of my mind, mingling with the exquisite pleasure Valen was drawing from me.
“Eyes. On. Me. Princess,” Valen demanded, punctuating each word with a deeper, harder, thrust. I tried to ground myself amidst the chaos, but it was futile, the world dissolving into electric sensation.
“Yes,” I breathed, my gaze locked with Valen’s as I answered Death aloud, ignoring the conflict swirling within me.
Death tsked, the sound as real as if he were pressed against my ear. ‘I
don’t think you’ve earned release yet, little fawn. Tell me exactly what you want.’ I gasped as Valen shifted, lifting my hips higher, changing the angle of his thrusts. The new position sent shockwaves through me, his thick length hitting that perfect spot deep inside with devastating precision. Stars exploded behind my eyelids. ‘Words, Mireille,’ Death taunted, his voice like honey poured over broken glass. ‘I want to hear you say it.’ “I want—“ My voice broke as Valen’s fingers found my clit again, circling with maddening skill while he continued to drive into me. “I want to come,” I gasped, no longer caring who heard the desperation in my voice.
“Please, I need to come.”
Valen’s lips twisted into a grin that could only be described as wicked. ‘Good girl,’ Death purred. ‘Now come for me.’ The permission—the command—undid me. My release crashed through me with violent intensity, waves after waves of pleasure radiating outward from my core. I screamed, the sound echoing off the stone walls of my cell as release claimed me completely.
“Valen!” I cried, his name spilling from my lips even as Death’s presence wrapped around my consciousness, claiming my pleasure as his own.
Valen growled in response, his own movements becoming frantic as he chased his pleasure. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside me, his body shuddering as he found his release. I felt the heat of him filling me, marking me from the inside in yet another claim of ownership.
For several long moments, we remained locked together, our ragged breathing the only sound in the cell. Valen’s forehead rested against mine, an unexpected intimacy that felt more significant than the act we’d just shared.
Then reality reasserted itself. Valen withdrew from me, leaving me feeling strangely hollow. He adjusted his clothing with quick, efficient movements, his face already closing off, the mask of control sliding back into place.
I watched him, not bothering to hide my body as my shoulders resumed their strained position.
“Was it everything you hoped for, Princess?” he asked, voice carefully neutral now, though I could detect a thread of uncertainty beneath his assured tone.
I smiled, slow and deliberate despite my heavy breathing. “It was a start,”
I replied, enjoying the flicker of surprise that crossed his features.
Valen’s jaw tightened, his eyes searching mine. “This won’t happen again, it changes nothing,” he said finally.
“It changes everything,” I contradicted.
He turned away abruptly, moving toward my cell door. Before he stepped past the threshold, he caught my eye over his shoulder, his expression once more the cold, calculated mask I’d come to know.
“I’ll send the guards to release you,” he said. “Clean yourself up.
Tomorrow we continue as before.”
“Do we?” I asked, cocking my head to one side. “Can you really go back to simple torture now, Valen? Now that you know what else awaits between us?”
His hand clenched, knuckles whitening. For a moment, I thought he might strike me after all—one last attempt to reassert the old dynamic, to prove he was still in control.
Instead, he turned and left the cell without another word, his stride less measured than usual, almost hurried. As if he couldn’t bear to be in my presence a moment longer.
I smiled into the empty space he left behind, feeling Death’s attention, his anger at my actions, at the game I was playing. At how I hadn’t called out for him.
This was my power. This was my choice. And gods help them both, I was just getting started.
