The moment her hand was pulled free, my chest healed, and I watched her through narrowed eyes. She’d tried to remove my heart with one hand while she worked my cock with the other.
The meadow was filling with gods and goddesses, and Synthia inspected them all. Lucian still held her wrist, which was now covered in my blood.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked, and she turned slowly toward his voice, studying him before she pressed against him.
She gave Lucian a saccharine smile and then placed her hand against his chest, ripping his shirt open. Her mouth brushed against his abs, and I frowned, watching my wife as she licked her sexy-as-fuck tongue down his body. I wanted to pull her back to me, but Lucian’s gaze warned me from doing that.
“What’s your name?” he repeated in a multilayered tone that demanded a reply. He turned, staring at Lena, who was frowning, glaring daggers at Synthia as the color in her eyes turned to that of a moonless night. Thick black lines traced from her eyes as if she was about to go full Fury on Synthia, which I wasn’t sure Lena would live through. “Tell me your name, and I’ll take you to paradise, woman.”
I felt Lena’s pain, but something wasn’t right with Synthia, and while Lena was powered by furies, Synthia was a goddess. The power that ebbed and flowed from Synthia was enough to bring the fae to their knees.
The proof being that those who guarded the stronghold were doing just that. The entire world pulsed from her presence. Blades of grass danced to the vibration as if a loud bass speaker was placed into the meadow, blaring music in front of them.
The sky turned a multitude of angry colors as the wind howled all around, never touching us, as if directed by her.
“Sorcha,” Synthia said softly, smiling as Lucian’s clothes vanished. Her hand reached for his cock, but he stopped it, holding her against him while he studied the vacant gaze peering up at him. “Feed me. I’m so hungry.”
“Just like that, huh? Don’t care who you fuck, as long as you get fucked, Synthia?” he countered.
“My name is Sorcha, Goddess of the Fae, and you’re talking too much. It’s starting to bore me,” she complained, ripping her hands away from him. He stepped back, instantly dressed as if he’d conjured clothing in the way the fae did. Only Lucian wasn’t fae.
Asher sifted onto the field, clueless about what was happening. He slowly walked toward us, which caught Synthia’s attention. His gaze settled on her, and he froze. She met him before we could stop her.
Synthia took Asher to the ground hard, removing his clothing with claws as he held perfectly still, staring up at her. His hands lifted, settling on her hips as he swallowed hard enough that we all heard it. His eyes turned toward us as his head remained in her direction without turning.
“I am hungry. Feed me, or you die,” she sneered, and the trees cracked with her words.
“Now who’s rocking the fuck-me vibes, woman?” Asher hissed, groaning as his brands pulsed in sync with hers. He moaned beneath her, and she lifted, intending to plant herself on his thick cock, which she’d begun stroking, preparing it to fit into her body.
“Flower!” Ristan shouted from where he stood on the battlements. “We don’t fuck other people, woman! You’re married! Behave.”
She started to push onto him while everyone stood around watching. Blood pounded in my ears as a growl escaped my lungs. My wings expanded, filling the meadow with absolute power as I prepared to fight her to keep her from fucking anyone but me.
Her eyes turned, studying me before she stood, abandoning Asher’s cock, walking toward me. Iridescent wings exploded from her back, and I paused, starting at their unequivocal beauty that took my breath away. Her head lowered as her eyes took in my wings, darker and more lethal than hers, but we were the same, and she knew it.