I hesitate as I stare at Evander’s upturned face. At the need radiating from him. Even during Aethertide, he wasn’t this raw, this savage. Gliding my fingers into his hair, I cup his face in my palms and press my mouth to his in a slow, exploring caress.

Evander surges against me with a snarl to crush me closer, and I freeze, my hands resting uncertainly on his shoulders.

The god-king makes a chiding sound behind us. “That’s not the kind of kiss he needs from you right now, Princess.” Alexios grips Evander’s hair and wrenches him back from me, leaning down to graze his lips over his cheek. “I’m going to show her how it’s done,” he whispers. “Get her all nice and ready for you.”

Then Alexios is claiming Evander’s mouth with the kind of searing intensity that makes the breath catch in my lungs. It’s filthy and merciless. Brutal and deep. Possessing and owning him so completely, there’s no space left for anything else.

Evander arches in Alexios’ bruising hold. A harsh growl builds in his chest, and the sound vibrates through me, an answering heat spiking low in my core. But the god-king only grips him tighter, one hand twisting in his hair while the other digs into his jaw. Alexios angles Evander just the way he wants and keeps kissing him. Biting his lower lip and soothing the sting with his tongue.

When the god-king finally pulls back, Evander’s pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving.

“That’s how you kiss a god who just killed for you,” Alexios says, voice rough. He kisses Evander again and breathes, “Like you’ll die if you don’t. Like you’ll destroy anyone who tries to take him from you.”

Like you’ll die if you don’t.

And I know what he’s telling me. What Evander needs from me. Take what’s yours.

So I yank Evander toward me and surge up to claim his lips, savoring the unique taste that’s purely him. He groans softly as his hands map my curves, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He’s trying to relearn me by touch, by taste, making up for the severed bond the only way he can right now.

“Less gentle,” Alexios hisses. “Bite him, Bryony. Make him bleed for you.”

Obedience has never come naturally to me, but this? This is as easy as breathing. I sink my teeth into Evander’s bottom lip, and the copper-bright taste of his blood floods my mouth. His palms skim my sides to rest on the dip of my waist, yanking me close.

Alexios leans in, whispering, “He fought for you, Princess. He killed for a chance to keep you. So get on your knees and show him he’s your god.”

Yes.

I rake my nails down Evander’s chest, loving the way he arches into the sting, starving for it. I shove him backward, and he goes easily, letting me press him against the smooth rock ledge.

“Up,” I command. “Sit on the edge.”

Hunger flares in his expression, but he complies, leveraging himself out of the pool to settle beside Alexios.

I move until I’m poised between his legs. With my eyes locked on his, I go to my knees in the shallows, the water lapping gently at the small of my back. I glide my fingers up his thighs. When I wrap my hand around his cock, his breath hisses through clenched teeth, and the sound shoots straight between my legs.

Those burning eyes never leave mine as I bend to drag the flat of my tongue over his cock, licking the salty tang of his arousal. Savoring the taste of him.

His hands cup my head, urging me down. Not gentle. Not asking. He’s past the point of permission, and honestly, so am I. So I let him take what he needs. I hollow my cheeks and suck, reveling in each desperate thrust as he grips my hair and fucks into my mouth. I relax my jaw and throat, letting him hit the back on every glide.

This is a Claiming in its own way. An act of worship. Of absolution. I inscribe my devotion into his skin with lips and tongue and careful scrapes of teeth. Over and over until I’m lost to the slick heat of him in my mouth.

A dark satisfaction settles into Alexios’ features as my eyes meet his. As he watches me take and give in equal measure.

“He’ll remember this,” Alexios says. “The way you submitted for him. The way you took him so deep when he needed to claim you.”

The water sloshes around us. I dig my nails into Evander’s thighs, offering myself up as the altar for his need. Breaking him just to build him back up. Sending messages without words. Use me. My hand slides down his cock, stroking. Let me have it. I go down, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. I can take it.

Alexios bends forward and breathes in my ear, “Pleasure is another form of prayer. Tell me, little sacrifice. How holy do you feel right now?”

Lost in this moment, in the slick push-pull of mine-yours-ours, I feel powerful. Like if I reached up to trace constellations, the stars would bend to accommodate my whims. Like I’m as eternal as the two males watching me. This is a kind of revelation—a god coming undone by my lips, my touch. There’s a certain brutal grace in his abandon. In the little hitches in his breath, his hips lifting to thrust his cock deeper, his hand tightening in my hair when I get the right suction and movement. He’s rough and reverent, controlled and fierce, all that need spilling out between us.

And I want it. I want to unravel him. To dig my fingers into all the dark and desperate places and put them back together again.

I want him to fucking own me.

My nails bite into Evander’s tensed thighs as I urge him deep. His grip turns brutal in my hair. His thrusts go erratic, control slipping. I take it all, welcome the slight burn, the fullness. I suck harder, swirling my tongue, scraping my teeth lightly along the sensitive skin. His breathing turns ragged.

A low growl tears from him. Then he’s coming in hot pulses against my tongue. I swallow everything he gives me, watching his head tip back, tendons straining. There’s nothing more beautiful than Evander lost to bliss and ecstasy. I soothe him through the aftershocks with little licks and sucks, and his grip on my hair gentles.

Then I sit back on my heels and raise my eyes to Alexios. I can only imagine what I must look like, naked and savage in my victory.

The god-king just smiles. “Well done, Princess.”

Evander slips into the water, his body loose and pliant now. Immediately, I gather him against me, cradling his head on my shoulder and burying my fingers in his feathers. A sigh shudders out of him as he rests his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling close, scenting me. Then he shuts his eyes.

After a few moments, he relaxes and his breathing evens, then slows.

“Is he asleep?” I ask Alexios, stroking Evander’s tucked wings.

The god-king studies Evander. “Something like that. The magic works best when he’s not fighting it. He’ll be out for a bit.” Those red eyes cut to me. “Think you can handle him from here?”

I nod, fingers still mapping idle patterns along Evander’s back.

The god-king rises with a soft rustle of feathers and turns to go. But something has been bothering me since the Colosseum that I can’t ignore.

“They’re never going to accept me, are they?” I ask him. “The demis. No matter what I do or how hard I work, I’ll always be a Devaliant first.”

He pauses, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Truth?”

I hold my breath and nod.

“When they look at you, they see a descendant of the people who brutally murdered their families for power. Wounds that deep don’t heal pretty. Earning their respect will never be bloodless work, and even then, there are no guarantees.”

I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. A strange calm settles over me—I know what I have to do. “Then I’ll fight.”

His brows lift. “Fight?”

“I’ll waive my protection as Evander’s Chosen and fight in the arena like he did. Put me against any demi who challenges my place at his side. Let everyone see I can be a queen in more than just name.”