“The scarring,” the priestess said.
Celissia stepped forward, removing a black-bladed knife from the waist of her moss-green gown. A ceremonial weapon, I’d learned earlier. When Barrett left Banix, he made sure to have that in his pack, as well.
Dax took the weapon first, and Barrett held up his hand. This was the more brutal part of an Engrossian bonding ceremony, where the participants each inflicted a mark on the other and their blood mixed over a blessing. It was meant to represent the combination of responsibility and magic woven into the assignment to guard the dark pools.
I didn’t know what symbol they’d selected, but each of them cut the other’s palm, and they clasped their hands together.
“By the valors of the Engrossian Prime Warrior,” the priestess said, and Barrett and Dax echoed the words, blood dripping between their linked palms, “and by the magic of his Angelic self, I swear myself to thee.”
Something snapped between the two men with their hands entwined, like the Angels heard those promises and sealed their souls together. It was almost a tangible force, a band tethering them.
Looking around, it was clear everyone felt it. Cypherion hugged Vale tighter, Jezebel leaned her head on Erista’s shoulder, and Mila pulled my attention to hers. I was barely cognizant of the anointing of Barrett’s and Dax’s wounds with the ointment that would scar them for eternity. I was barely present at all when I looked at her.
And as the future king kissed the man he loved, the entire crowd of Gallantian Warriors roared.
I only lasteda second before my hands were all over Mila. In her hair, tugging up that fucking sinful dress, gripping her thigh as it wrapped around my waist. She was everything, my heart beating out her name, and I needed to feel every inch of her.
“Shouldn’t we get back to the ballroom?” she gasped against my lips as I carried her in the opposite direction of the crowd, down the mosaic-lined halls of the capitol.
“Is that really where you want to be right now?” I murmured into her neck as I searched for any sort of open door.
“Barrett and Dax are about to make their entrance,” she forced out as her head rolled back.
“Don’t care.”
There.
Up ahead, a tall, willowy figure had just exited a room, leaving the door open wide behind her. A storage closet probably.
As I sped toward it, the woman cast an amused glance over her shoulder. Her dark hair cascaded around her, and I briefly thought I recognized her, but Mila was slipping a hand beneath my collar, and all recollections left my mind.
I slipped into the room and kicked the door closed, not bothering to take in our surroundings beyond a small skylight overhead, plants lining one wall, and a fountain trickling away in the corner.
Mila worked her lips down my jaw as the cheering from the ballroom carried down the hall outside. “Sounds like the festivities have begun,” she hummed as her hips rolled against mine.
“Then I guess we better make this quick, General.”
And though the union we’d witnessed tonight was blessed by the Angels, there was nothing holy in the smile Mila returned. “I won’t be quiet.”
“Good.”
I spun her around, pressing her against the nearest wall between two potted ferns, and I pulled down the delicate straps of her dress.
“Of fucking course,” I grumbled at the layer of white lace beneath it. It had peeked above the scooping neckline, but I hadn’t dared to think what she really wore for the sake of my sanity. The bodice was entirely sheer and so fucking tempting, her nipples hard and begging for me beneath it.
Mila’s legs gripped tight to my waist as I ducked my head, flicking my tongue over the fabric covering one breast, then the next. She writhed against me, tossing her head back on a moan when I bit down.
We hadn’t made it far from the crowded ballroom, and there was a very good chance of someone walking down this hall, but I didn’t fucking care. Not as I hiked up her skirt and pulled aside her undergarments. I swept two fingers down her center, finding her so ready, and plunged into her. She cried out my name, not expecting me already, and I continued to drive her crazy.
“Fuck,” she panted as her hips angled up.
“Tell me what you want, Mila,” I growled, nipping at her shoulder, her breasts, everywhere I could fucking touch. Spirits, I was hungry for her.
Desperate.
“I want,” Mila breathed as her hand worked my belt, all our movements frenzied. “I want you, Malakai.”
“You have me,” I swore.
