I Became the Final Boss's Nameless Fiancée and I Have One Season to Stop Him novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Council Table
He kneels at the end of the long black table and eats her until she begs, and she sees the ninety marks on his chest, a few already faded.
The great hall of Ashmoor Keep held one table, and it was forty feet of black stone.
Rina found him at the far end of it at midnight, alone, with a single ember lamp and the treaty spread out under his hands.
The envoy had gone to bed full of wine and suspicion.
The garden was dark again.
She stopped just inside the doorway, in the nightgown and a shawl, and let him hear her bare feet.
He didn't look up.
"Your door has a key," he said.
"I know where it is."
"The envoy believes us, I think. You need do nothing more."
"Kaldrith."
Now he looked up.
His eyes were tired, the red rings darker than yesterday, and he was holding the page too hard.
"You owe me a turn," Rina said.
A flush crept up from his collar to his horns.
"I have been thinking of nothing else," he admitted.
"What have you been thinking?"
He set the treaty down.
"That I did not do it well enough."
She laughed out loud.
It rang off the vaulted ceiling, and he looked startled, and then pleased, and then something shy and fierce.
"Come here," she said.
He came.
He stood in front of her, so tall she had to tip her head all the way back, and she took the front of his coat in both fists.
"I want to be on the table."
"The table is stone."
"So put me on it."
His hands closed around her waist, and she was lifted.
The black stone was cold under her thighs through the thin cotton.
She shivered and spread her knees.
He stood between them, looking down at her with reverence.
"Tell me what to do," he said.
"What?"
"I do not know what is good." His voice was very quiet. "I have only ever done what I was told. Tell me what you want, and I will do it exactly."
Rina's throat went tight.
She thought of a thirty-one-year-old man in a black stone keep, who had burned a city once and had never been asked a question.
"Take it off me," she said. "The gown. Slowly."
He drew the nightgown up her thighs, over her hips, over her ribs, and she lifted her arms.
The cotton slid away.
The cool air touched her bare breasts and she saw him swallow.
"Look at me," she said.
He looked.
His eyes ran over her slowly, down her throat, the soft curve of her breasts, the dark nipples already tight.
His hand lifted, hovered.
"Touch me," she said. "Don't hover. Just do it."
He cupped her breast, thumb brushing over the peak, and her head fell back.
"Kaldrith."
"Like this?"
"Harder."
He rolled the nipple between finger and thumb, and a bolt of pleasure ran straight down to her clit.
She moaned.
"Now your mouth."
He bent his head.
He took her nipple between his lips and sucked, and the point of one fang grazed the tender skin.
"Gods," she said. "Again. With the fang."
He did it again, and she arched, her hands tangling in the silver hair.
He moved to the other breast, and the other, until she was panting and rocking her hips on the cold stone.
"Lower," she begged.
He went down on his knees.
It was the strangest sight she had ever seen.
The demon prince of the Cinder March, the final boss, kneeling at the end of his own council table with his big hands on her thighs, looking up with a naked question.
"Here?" he asked, and kissed the inside of her knee.
"Higher."
He kissed her inner thigh.
"Here?"
"Higher."
His breath was hot on her pussy now.
She was slick and swollen and aching, and she could feel him looking.
"You are beautiful," he said, wondering.
"Put your mouth on me."
He licked her, one long slow stroke from her entrance up to her clit.
Rina cried out and her heels dug into his shoulders.
"Yes," she gasped. "Like that. Just like that. Don't stop."
He didn't stop.
He licked and sucked and learned, his tongue broad and hot and impossibly patient, circling her clit and then flicking it, and then sliding down to push inside her.
She fisted one hand in his hair and the other flat on the stone.
"Praise me," she heard herself say, "tell me, tell me I'm-"
"You taste like honey," he said, against her. "You taste like the first warm day of spring. I could do this until the world ends."
"Oh, gods."
"Is that good? Tell me it is good."
"It's so good. Kaldrith, it's so good, don't you dare stop."
He groaned into her and the vibration went through her whole body.
She felt the tension coiling low and tight in her belly.
His hands tightened on her thighs, holding them open, and she realized he was pinning her down, and the realization sent her higher.
"Hold me still," she panted. "Yes, like that. Make me come."
He pressed his mouth to her clit and sucked, hard, and flicked it with his tongue, again and again.
She broke.
The orgasm tore through her in a hot white rush, her back bowed off the table, and she heard her own voice shouting his name down the length of the empty hall.
He kept licking her through every wave, slower and softer, until she was shaking and begging him to stop.
Then he rested his forehead against her thigh and breathed.
Rina lay across the black stone with her chest heaving.
The lamp flame danced.
After a long minute she propped herself on one elbow.
His lips were wet and his silver hair was wild.
He was looking at her as if she had handed him the moon.
"Nobody ever asked me," he said hoarsely, "what I wanted either."
"What do you want?"
"To be told." He swallowed. "And to be allowed to stay."
She pulled him up by the collar and kissed him, tasting herself on his mouth.
"Stay," she said.
His coat had come open at some point.
Her eyes dropped to his chest.
The black ring sat over his breastbone, close to the skin, and now that she was near enough and calm enough, she could see that it wasn't a ring at all.
It was a great many tiny black marks set in a circle, each one the length of a grain of rice.
Rina put out a careful finger, not touching it.
"There are two grey ones," she said. "The rest are black."
"It keeps count."
"Of what?"
"It does not matter."
She counted without touching.
Eighty-eight black marks.
Two grey.
Ninety days to the first snow.
Her stomach dropped through the floor.
"Kaldrith."
"It is nothing you need to fear." He closed his coat. "Rina, I do not want to speak of it."
She looked at his face, and she saw what the lie cost him.
She could push.
She could also feel her thighs trembling, and his hardness straining at his trousers, and the lamp beginning to gutter.
"All right," she said. "Not tonight."
She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him against her.
He gasped.
"Take me to your bed."
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