Chapter Thirteen
REMI
“Take me to your dungeons, Rhodes,” the world flashes with darkness, Rhodes adjusts his pants. “Take me to your dungeons, and punish me.”
If Rhodes is affected by my words, he doesn’t let an inch of it show. Still, he wears a mask of boredom, but his body, his cock…
He takes note of me staring, of me noting it, and smirks. I take this as an invitation to approach.
He hisses through his teeth as I get closer. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling,” he warns, so I look, but don’t touch.
And I’ll admit, the restraint is hard to manage.
As if reading my thoughts, Rhodes raises his hand. It’s wrapped in corded fighting leathers, some parts of it caked in blood. It scares me, he scares me, but not enough to run.
“You’re terrified,” he notes, but still he brings his hand up to my throat, my cheek, his fingertips just close enough to ghost over my skin.
The sound that escapes me, I’ve never made it before. It’s something between a squeal and a whimper, a desperation I’ve never known.
I move to touch him, kiss him, I don’t know, but just as quickly the twin brother steps away, clicking his tongue.
“You’re too young,” everything about his tone is mocking, yet it only draws me in further. That is, until he says, “Little girls like you are too needy.”
The heat between my legs pulses. Perhaps I am needy, desperate. But since when do males care about that?
“I’m not going to fuck you, nameless.”
It’s an effort to stifle my pout. “I-I didn’t want–”
“Good girls only speak when they’re told to,” his large hand moves up and covers my mouth, “And I don’t want to hear you speak.”
Asshole, he’s such an arrogant asshole. And I’m a fool for thinking such a talented immortal would be interested in wasting time punishing me.
So I do the most childish thing I can think of.
I knew the Commander of Keiran’s armies in the balls.
The world goes silent, and whatever sick grasp Rhodes has on my body slackens. I step away from him, the fire in my heart still burning low.
Fuck him.
For a moment I think the twin is going to let me go, but the second I turn to my bed, something in Rhodes snaps. The fire goes out in an instant, and despite the rising dawn, the room darkens.
“Oh, you shouldn’t of fucking done that.” Suddenly his hands, his shadows, I’m not sure, are gripping my hip bones and halting me.
It takes me a second to register his hands and the magnificence of his body. My toes curl when I feel his cock. And Rhodes moans, actually moans, when I press into my tippy-toes and push my hips back.
I’m already blushing and dripping wet by the time he mutters.
“Bend over the desk.”
Bend over the desk. Says Rhodes.
Except the voice is not Rhodes.
And I don’t need to turn around to know that the palm buried mercilessly in my hair and dragging me across the room is The Midnight King.
Keiran is silent as we walk across the room. The desk is as cold and as merciless as him, but I press my white nightgown and damp hair against the unyielding marble and pray my ass isn’t on full display to him.
But the Midnight King pulls my night dress up for fun.
“Rhodes is going to spank you,” he explains calmly, running his hands up and down the back of my legs in lazy circles, “and I am going to watch.”
Heat flashes in my chest. Spank me. Rhodes is going to spank me.
Keiran steps away from me and is replaced by a presence even darker.
Rhodes' hands, his shadows, I don’t know, travel from my ankle to my calf, to my upper thighs. I’m smart enough to know that nothing about this will be graceful, nothing about this will be kind.
Especially with Kieran watching.
Whatever hits the back of my thighs, isn’t Rhodes' hand. Whatever it is, magic, shadow, fire, fucking burns.
Pain flashes through my body, and tears sting at my eyes. Never have I been so terrified. Never have I been so humiliated.
“Count.” Keiran commands.
Perhaps it’s the adrenaline or a glimmer of defiance, but I raise my head from the marble and spare him a glance. He’s absolutely magnificent in his all black clothing, the shirt he wears is half unbuttoned, a cigarette in his mouth, and a glass of dark liquor in another.
Magic presses my head back down. My heartbeat is going so fast I can’t tell if I’m dead or alive.
The King growls. “I said fucking count.”
“O-one.”
Rhodes moans at the next contact. I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or restraint.
“T-two.”
“Don’t go easy on her,” Keiran says, “the little girl asked for it.”
Little girl. Why does that turn me on so much? Why does punishment and being watched make my legs tremble?
Rhodes whips me again, and for whatever fucked up, twisted reason, at the contact, I arch my back and moan.
Rhodes stills. The world stills.
There’s a mirror to my left where I can watch them both. There’s something like intrigue on both of their faces, desire. Keiran is in the wingback chair, now on the edge of his seat, and Rhodes with his arms crossed and head cocked.
Despite the tears running down my face, I squirm onto my tippy-toes, then settle once more on the flat of my feet. Gods, I just want them to touch me.
With their hands, their cocks, even just the whip.
I want to be fucked.
Rhodes spanks me again, and I dip my fingernails into the edge of the table to keep from thrashing my hips forward.
The males in the room exchange a look. That is most definitely intrigue on both of their faces, intrigue and lust.
“Are you enjoying this, nameless?”
I am enjoying this, more than I should.
Just yesterday I thought I was destined for nothing more than my gardens, and now here I am, dripping wet from being spanked by the Midnight King and his Commander.
Rhodes laces the leather around his fingers. “Get on the bed,” he says, so softly I can barely hear.
The two males take every note of my movement, my every breath, as I sink into the blue sheets before them.
They seem to be having a conversation in their heads about me, but their gazes do not falter, not from me or the wet spot I’m marking on the bed.
Rhodes speaks first.
“Open your legs.”
Like I promised him before, I obey.
Keiran smirks down at me, I’ve never been so wound up before. I’ve never been so hot before.
“Wider, sweet girl.”
Shame flashes over me, and I’m not sure if it intrigues them more when I say, “I’ve n-never had anyone see me…like…”
Rhodes releases a heavy sigh, “I told you,” he says to Keiran, then slaps him on the back. This seems to mark their exit.
“W-wait–”
“None of us are going to fuck you,” Keiran says at the door.
“And if I catch you messing with my brother again,” Rhodes threatens, his shadows moving the chains and locking me in place, “we’ll devise a punishment that doesn’t turn you on.”
I scoff, “Good luck with that.”
Keiran raises a brow.
“I didn’t mean like that–”
“Filthy little slut,” he laughs, cruel and merciless as the first time I met him. Then he says again, just for good measure. “None of us are going to fuck you.”
So with that the males leave me, dissatisfied and dripping wet, chained to a bed in their castle.
And they may have had the upper hand, *may have*, if Kallias didn't storm into the room, look to the desk, and the leathers on his twin brother's wrists, then finally to a tear spent me.
"What did you do to her?" He asks, clearly drunk, his violet eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. "Did you whip her?"
"The Offering needed punishment--"
Kallias slams the King, *his King*, so hard against the door frame of my bedroom it breaks from the hinges.
"What the fuck did you do to *my Remi?*"