Eilam tilted his head, staring at how Enosh rubbed my clit, but his other body parts seemed rather disinterested in this erotic display. “Your arrogance is worse than Yarin’s perversion. This will not end the way you hope, no matter your provocations.”

“Not true to your word then, after all,” Enosh said, taking his time to guide my pelvis into a circle while simultaneously pushing me down on his swollen length. “Little one, I asked you a question, and my wife always speaks true. Would you have pierced the mortal’s throat?”

A sobering chill dripped down my spine, reminding me of the fact that this was more than a fuck—it was a ploy and a terrible taunt. A mortal’s breath in exchange for mine. That had been Eilam’s offer, and I would damn well collect what I was due.

Against all remnants of modesty, I steered on Enosh’s cock, relishing the thrill of this obscene moment with shocking intensity. I’d told myself I could be anything I needed to be for our baby.

I only needed to be one thing.

The Queen of Rot and Pain.

“No, I wouldn’t have pierced his throat.” I rolled my hips faster, because queens took whatever they wanted, and I wanted Eilam to see that I could be as terrible as my husband. “I would have stabbed him in the belly. Make a damn mess of it, probably, leaving him to squeal like a sow.”

Eilam pushed himself off the wall and slowly padded over on his naked soles, squatting inches from my foot with his impressive but rather limp cock dangling from a thatch of snow-white curls.

The moment his torso shifted forward, bonedust rushed from all directions, forming dozens of spikes that levitated before Eilam’s face.

“If your toe as much as stubs her ankle, we shall have to delay this disagreement, for I will make you believe you are dying a million gruesome deaths, over and over again, for the next decade.” Enosh breathed so heavily behind me, I heard the air suck through his nostrils. “Now, stand by your word. A breath for another. Do it!”

Eilam raised his gaze and shifted his weight onto one leg, taking a long look at Henry. Then his black eyes returned to me, so void of any color, but it was the lack of conviction on his face, the blatant indifference, that made me shiver in his presence once more.

Whatever he saw, it was neither killer nor queen. Beautiful and kind, perhaps, but not nearly as cruel and terrible as one needed to be to survive among monsters. Certainly not among gods.

But I lifted my chin, refusing to flinch under his persistent stare. Perhaps I was no queen.

Yet.

But over the course of two months, I had been held captive, stripped of all decency, made a deal with the devil, died, and had my soul shackled so I could grieve the loss of my child.

I was no longer the woman I’d been.

Neither worthless nor insignificant…

… but a queen in the making.

I placed my hand onto Enosh’s, guiding the size of the circles his fingers drew around my clit, the speed at which he teased the little bud, and the pressure he applied.

Enosh groaned, letting the masculine sound rumble against my shoulder where he kissed, sucked, and nibbled. He thrust upward, lifting me ever so slightly as I rocked back, driving him deeper into me, then forward toward his dusky sac.

“Second to none,” Enosh whispered into my ear, fighting hard to keep his rhythm as he neared completion. “Made for me.”

This much in control over our movements, I bucked against his fingers, letting them drum the sparks in my lower belly into roaring flames. Once again, they scorched across my entire body in one terrifying wave of heat and pleasure as his brother watched.

Instead of allowing myself to succumb to it or the way Enosh’s hips first stalled then twitched, I leaned back against my husband’s chest. Bracing against it, I reached behind me, letting cold fingertips climb the floor.

Wood.

Wood.

Blood.

Wet and thick, it had created a puddle beside us. I swirled my fingers through it, then leaned forward toward Eilam as Enosh sent spurt after hot spurt of seed into me. With a quick swat of my hand, I sent speckles of crimson across the god’s face and into the white of his hair.

“A mortal’s breath in exchange for mine.” I brought my bloody fingers to my lips and stroked them into my mouth, letting the blood of the man who’d aided in my murder spread slightly salty across my gums. “You still think I will stop my husband? Dear brother-in-law, you need to start worrying about who will stop me.”

Eilam neither blinked nor said a word.

Only faded away.

My bloody hand dropped to my belly, shaking from a rush of rage and vigor alike. “He doesn’t believe me.”

“Doesn’t believe you?” Enosh chuckled behind me as his fingers tugged on my braids, opening them up. “Eilam hates coming into his form with such intensity—decades pass between the occasions. Twice, he has come into his form today. You know what he hates even more…? Not having the last word. Little one, you made him furious.”

“I did?” My chest lifted with an inhale of renewed determination. Enosh knew his brother a great deal better than I did, so I had to take his word for it. “You can’t help me next time.” Strange how the mention of my next murder brought not even a quiver to my fingers as I glanced back at Enoh, gulping down Henry’s blood. “The next time, I want to look like a queen.”

Enosh rose and slipped me off him, gingerly brushing the mink of my dress down. “No, Ada, you shall look like a goddess, with a crown upon your head like none before.”

No, not a crown.

Not until this was over.

“Make it a tiara.” I spun around and pointed up at the mow. “Using his jawbone.”

“That can be arranged.” Enosh shaped breeches around him as he stared at the mow, where strings of braided skin writhed and slithered, lowering a bound Arne down from it. “Between us, mortal, I have fantasized about many a punishment. Oh, so torn was I between all the possibilities of how to make you pay for what you have done to my wife.”

I watched how the grayish-brown vines of skin stood Arne up, the veins on the white of his eyes bright red and visible even in the dim light. “Let me do it.”

“No, Ada.” Bone knife already shaped in his hand, Enosh cut Arne’s nightshirt, laying the trembling man’s torso open to the cold. Enosh set the pointy end of the blade against Henry’s stomach, an inch above his navel. “I swore to avenge you. And little one, this mortal is mine to punish.”

Instead of driving the knife into the bastard’s belly with a turn as he deserved, Enosh gingerly cut along his skin with the precision of a bricklayer. One long line from navel to the hem of the cotton trousers.

It didn’t bleed. Barely.

Arne trembled, throwing himself forward, only to bounce back at the mercy of hair strings tied to the wattle in the walls to bind him in place. “Please… it wasn’t me. Rose killed her!”

“Liar,” I scoffed. “But don’t worry. She’ll be next.”

And if all worked out, the last.

“Shh… stop moving, mortal, or I might damage an artery.” Enosh pushed one finger into the cut, then another, letting it rip open into an oozing gap as Arne stared down at himself, too shocked to even scream. “Death shall be your friend, mortal. But only until my brother shackles your soul, for you shall serve a higher purpose. An honor, truly.”

Enosh pulled back, his fingers hooked around… something. Intestines? Yes. Oh, that was even better than stabbing.

Pale pink and streaked with blood, Arne’s guts emerged from the hole in his stomach. The rippled organ lowered to the ground in sheer never-ending length—one foot, two, three… oh, goodness. It eventually changed shape and turned a grayish-brown, covered in a layer of mucus.

Enosh gave a little tug.

That was when Arne screamed.

“See, mortal, you shall remain alive like this for a while, watching your sustenance turn to shit.” Enosh stepped back from the tangle of guts on the ground and haphazardly wiped his bloody hands on a nearby rag. “Terribly painful, dying of a wound from the belly. Even more so if something tugs on the organs.”