My heartbeat kicks up and I’m suddenly nervous—not about the public sex so much as the fact that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my composure. Whatever that blessing did—or maybe some reckless desire for oblivion—makes me want him.

Henry breaks away from my lips and kisses along my jaw, pausing at my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I don’t like feeling at his mercy. I need something—anything—to balance this dynamic between us. Henry is so tall, he looms over me. His eyes on me are heavier than the weight of the collective gazes of everyone else in the room.

“Is Miriam the woman you were trying to fuck on hunt night? Is she here tonight?” I ask.

Henry’s aura flares in surprise. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type. I know better than to bring her around my murderous wife.”

I glare at him, but I’m relieved that the comment had the desired effect. There’s a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

He moves so quickly, I can barely track him as he hooks an arm under my legs, sweeps me up, and then tosses me on the bed. I bounce once, and before I can right myself, he’s prowling over me. He unties my robe and sits back to drink me in.

Bea used to say I have a body built for fucking. My breasts are full but perky. My waist is slim but my hips are wide, and my ass is high and round from all the running.

This isn’t the first time Henry has seen me naked, but under his assessing gaze, I wonder if he prefers someone with a fuller figure, like Miriam.

“Is this red?” he whispers, drawing a finger along the lace edge of the neckline.

I nod, and he hums low, closing his eyes. I wonder if he’s trying to remember red. I try to imagine what it would be like to have a sense and then lose it.

He puts his hand on my chest, but he doesn’t cup my breast or tweak my nipple. He just presses his huge, callused hand to the soft skin, his fingers resting against the pulse point in my neck.

My heart is pounding so hard.

“I’ll keep you covered,” he whispers.

When he was kissing me, it was easy to ignore the eyes in the room, but now that he’s reminded me, I feel suffocated by their attention. In my periphery, I only see black masks. I’m relieved Gaven listened to me, and the anonymity of the masks makes this a little bit less uncomfortable, but not much.

I want to choke Henry for making me so aware of them. I look up at him with as much defiance as I can manage. “I’m not ashamed of my body.”

A muscle in Henry’s jaw twitches. He runs a finger down the center of my chest, then grips the top of my slip and rips it down the center, baring me to the room. The violence is so sudden and shocking, we both freeze. His hungry gaze scrapes over my skin and he licks his lips.

He cups my right breast, gently brushing his thumb over my nipple. He pinches it lightly. When I don’t react, he pinches it harder, and I arch off the bed, pressing into his hand. He hums, the slight twitch of a smirk on his lips as he caresses my skin.

He kisses me again, and I’m torn between shoving him south so we can get this over with. We discussed what I was comfortable with ahead of time, but I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me so much, and every time he does it, I feel so disoriented by how much I like the closeness. Pain is grounding—but the tenderness unnerves me.

As if sensing my distraction, he pinches my nipple even harder, and I groan into his mouth and shudder. Damp heat rushes between my thighs. I told him I liked it rough because I thought that would be easier to sell than some slow, sensual lovemaking, but now I’m worried what this kind of recklessness will bring out of me.

He nips down my jaw, buries his hand in my hair, and yanks my head back to give him better access. His other hand slides down my side, passing over warm skin, shredded silk, and then more skin. He rakes his fingers up and down my thigh, progressively moving from outer to inner thigh.

He bites my neck hard, and I gasp. The hand on my inner thigh pushes the remains of my slip higher. The cool air hits my pussy and I feel just how wet I already am.

The first brush of his fingers over me is so gentle, but I shudder like I’ve been struck by an electrical charge. He chuckles into my neck.

He’s enjoying this, and I hate it. Maybe that’s exactly why he’s enjoying it. I want to slap him, but instead I press my hand against the wooden headboard. The cool metal of the sigil to Kennymyra set into the wood grounds me.

As he kisses down my chest and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, he slides a thick finger inside me. I’m wet enough that it glides in easily. He curls the finger and bites down hard on my nipple, and I lose all composure.

I moan. My hand comes to the back of his head reflexively, but not to push him away. I urge him on. He sucks hard to ease the ache, and my pussy clamps down on his finger as he starts to slide it in and out.

I’m mindless with pain-tinged pleasure. I want to blame the blessing and the ceremony and how tense I am, but some part of me is wondering if he’s actually going to be able to get me over the edge.

His mouth drifts to the other breast, nipping at my skin all the way. I’m going to be covered in bruises, but as he bites the other nipple and shoves a second finger inside me, I’m too dizzy with lust to care. He moves his fingers faster, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit for friction.

He traces rough kisses down my stomach, withdraws his fingers, and shoves my thighs wide, baring me to him and the rest of the room.

I’m suddenly aware of just how many people are around us—the closest no more than eight feet away. They can see everything. I’m not modest, but it’s so strange to be watched like this.

I really don’t care—as long as they don’t see my back, and so long as Gaven isn’t in here.

Henry gives me no time to think about it. He holds my gaze as he lowers his mouth and gives me a slow lick, then plunges his tongue inside me. I reflexively try to squeeze my thighs closed, but his hands press them back into the bed as he starts to fuck me with his tongue.

The benefit of having tried to kill him twice is that I’m certain nothing is going to hurt him. For the first time in my life, I can relax and enjoy what’s happening without worrying he’s going to forget himself and die.

I try to ignore the rapt gazes of the crowd. Their masked faces make them more anonymous, but I recognize Bryce and Carter, and that’s unnerving.

Henry slides two fingers inside me, drawing my full attention back to him. I want more. This isn’t enough. I need him to stop messing around and fuck me. I agreed to this because he said it was necessary to prove his commitment to service, but I just want this over with.

His mouth has perfect suction on my clit as he pumps his fingers faster. He flattens his tongue against me, alternating between that, suction, and light grazes of his teeth. It’s maddeningly effective. He slides his other hand up to alternate pinching my nipples.

Bleeding woods. He knows what he’s doing. My body is tingling, my limbs full of liquid warmth.

He bites my clit, and the pain is so stunning, it leaves me clenched and frozen. He shoves a third finger inside me and sucks hard on the aching flesh. It hurts so perfectly. I’m so full of him; he’s overtaken every sense in my body.

I slap my hand against the sigil, barely aware of the point biting into my palm as the pleasure bursts all at once. I’m suspended in some liminal place as wave after wave rolls over me. It goes on and on like that, the ecstasy so warm and bubbling that I can barely breathe around it. The sound he wrenches out of me is something animal—the guttural half-scream, half-moan of a woman rent from who she was and remade into something new.

He moves his fingers frantically, his other hand pinning my hips to the bed so I can’t escape his fingers or the rhythm of teeth, tongue, suction on my clit.