Pride blossomed in my chest while arousal bloomed between my thighs.

My jaw ached as I worked to take him deeper. Closing my eyes, I bobbed up and down, only to be stopped with a hand wrapping around my long hair. “Look at me while your pretty lips are around my dick,” Rokath rasped. Raking my gaze up his torso to his face, I did. Drool fell out of the corners of my mouth and over my chin. Rokath wrapped my locks tighter to get them out of the way. “Keep going.”

I opened my throat to suck him down. He hit the back, and I gagged, struggling to breathe through it.

“You can take it,” he told me, the utter confidence in his voice empowering me to continue. Flaring my nostrils, I dragged in a ragged breath and sank lower. But Rokath wasn’t satisfied. Using his leverage, he pushed until my nose brushed his belly. Tears blurred my vision and spilled over as all my air was cut off.

“Fuck, Assyria, your mouth,” Rokath ground out, the sound a heady mix of primal pleasure and tumbling rocks. My center wept for the power I wielded over my mate. Again, I gagged, and only then did Rokath ease me off him. A string of saliva connected us still.

Rokath cupped my chin and traced his thumb over my swollen bottom lip. “Such a good girl for me,” he praised, and more wetness slicked my thighs. Then, he mapped a path from my face to the base of my neck, wrapping his large hand around it. “Tell me, did you like it when I cut off your air?”

“Yes,” I heaved out, and his fingers tightened again. He scooted forward, his cock bobbing with the movement. The tip weeped, a bead of moisture threatening to fall onto the bones of long-dead Angels.

When it did, a wicked, sinful heat swept through me. My attention flicked up to Rokath’s frame towering over me. Those damn lips curved into a sinister, merciless grin. “Open for me, mate.”

Obediently, I did. Rokath wasted no time in shoving himself in again. Flattening a palm on the back of my head, he pushed down. I gagged, hard, lungs seizing, while he pistoned in and out of my mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and my heart thundered against my ribs. Tears streamed out in rivulets as he continued to chase his pleasure. Impossibly, he thickened against my tongue. With one harsh thrust, he buried himself in my throat. Ropes of his hot cum coated the back of it, and it was all I could do to swallow him down. A string of curses followed, and finally, he released me.

I barely had a moment to rake in a breath before he yanked me from my kneeling position. My knees protested until he spun us, supplanting me on his throne. Rokath shoved my thighs apart and buried his head between the leather. Inhaling deeply, he squeezed my thighs, thumbs digging into the sensitive insides. “Fuck, I can smell how aroused you are, Assyria.”

Over the seam of my pants, he dragged his teeth against my core. My hips bucked at the touch, and a wanton whimper slipped from my throat. “Please, Rokath.”

“Beg me,” Rokath commanded, his riotous burgundy eyes lifting to collide with my own. “Beg me for your pleasure.”

Desire was something I’d always been taught was shameful, and yet, with the Halálhívó—the Fates-chosen savior of the Demons—kneeling between my thighs, the only emotion present was pride. At how I’d brought the most feared male in all of Keleti to his knees.

Ready to worship me.

I had hated him; I now loved him. The power, the pain, the pleasure, I craved all of it—all of him.

Rokath opened doors I’d never imagined existed inside me, drawing out a nature I’d long kept hidden. And I was not above asking for him to teach me more, to give me more. Not when he’d always oblige.

“Please, I need you,” I panted, lust tumbling through my veins. An ache bloomed in my jaw, a reminder of the bruising way he’d taken my mouth. Yet I could think of nothing more than having that hot, hard length inside me.

Since our return, we’d yet to couple again. Our bond flared as if it too recalled how long it had been, growing as insistent as my dripping center and his throbbing dick. “Now,” I whimpered, more of a desperate demand than an obedient plea.

He pressed the backs of his knuckles into the seam and dragged. “This little cunt is greedy for pleasure, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I breathed, pushing back into him, chasing more sensation. He rewarded me with another drag of his hand against my center. The groan that fled me was so loud a flash of worry that we’d be overheard slipped through me.

“Let them hear you, little imposter. Let them know who your mate is, and how well I make your body tremble.” Without further teasing, Rokath yanked at the ties of my pants and tore the sides apart. He made quick work of opening the leather tunic too, until my bound breasts heaved against the musky air. Palming the roundness, he lifted them and squeezed before rubbing his thumbs over the hard points beneath them.

“Rise,” he ordered, backing away and leaving my skin far too overheated. Without hesitation, I did. Rokath shoved the tunic over my shoulders, then dug his fingers between my ribs and the wrap of fabric around my chest. In one powerful motion, he ripped it away, drawing a gasp from my lungs.

A masculine groan rumbled out of him as he leaned down and took each nipple in his mouth, raking his teeth for good measure. The world spun while he worked his tongue around the buds, and I melted into him.

His hands hooked under my waistband and shoved my pants to my ankles. The moment they touched the ground, I stepped out of them, because fuck, I needed to feel him between my thighs and the only way that would happen was if I spread them.

I backed away from Rokath, eyes never leaving him. Through hooded lids, he watched me sink onto his throne and wrap my fingers over the skulls at the edge of the arms. His cock pointed straight at me, dripping from the tip. Bronze gleamed at his thighs, the dark fabric stretching taught beneath the weight of his armor. Motionless, but lethal, the kind of coiled stillness that sent a shiver along my spine.

One leg, then the other, dropped out. His eyes sliced straight to the glistening arousal slicking my center. “So wet for me,” he rumbled, stepping forward. Like boulders falling from the mountains, his knees hit the floor. The earth tremored even more than I did. When he lowered his mouth to my core, I thought I might faint.

As his hot breath ghosted over me, I clenched. “Please,” I said again, my voice hoarse.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me. Please give me pleasure. Please let me feel you inside me.” Each sentence was more desperate than the last, but I was well beyond the point of caring.

With a feral groan, he dipped his head and licked me back to front. The cry that burst from my throat when his teeth grazed my clit echoed around the canvas walls. When he flattened his tongue and lapped at me like fresh cream, my head lolled back. Air flooded my lungs as he parted my folds. It fled when he slipped the first finger inside.

“Rokath,” I panted, voice no louder than a frantic breath.

“So tight, Assyria. I’ll need to stretch you thoroughly to accommodate me.”

A second finger entered me. He flexed them wide before curling them against a spot deep inside. More wetness gushed out of me as he continued to lavish attention there. Mewls and incoherent words battled with my breath as he worked me into a frenzy.

Nothing else existed in that moment other than us—no war, no Angels, no Demons. Only the mate the Fates had blessed me with, his masterful movements, and the love that bled between us. Rokath’s devotion was unquestionable as he ravished my core, yanking me to the edge of the cliffs of pleasure. For Rokath ruled that domain as much as he ruled on the battlefield.

Images of him slaughtering hordes of Angels, then reanimating their corpses and bending them to his will flooded my mind. His undeniable power, his demonstrated mercilessness, his dark command, all of it enthralled me in a way that transcended our mating bond.