The assassins saint, p.32
The Assassin's Saint, page 32
“He got you good.” The guard whistled and tapped his own face to reflect my burned one. “Draven, if you’d leave their face intact, they won’t break you into pieces. Shit, they are gonna be pissed to see you in this state by sunup. Had to join the fight, huh?”
“What can I say? A chance to fight against a fellow Blood Champion is too tempting.” Draven shoved off, hopping until he could sit on the steps. “Good fight, Falcon! You and yours have a lovely night celebrating!”
I nodded and turned, gaining distance with every nerve on high. There was nothing more than a non sequitur of banter as we marched away, and John walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me. He calmly handed over Ashton. Not a word able to be formed, we did everything to slow our leave to be as casual and normal as possible. Both of us were stiff and unable to remember to draw breath. Will they ambush us at the turn? Closer to the tavern? But nothing ever came. No signs of Fallen Arbor were seen in town as everyone celebrated my victory.
“Who in the Holy Trinity was that?” John spoke at last.
“An unexpected thorn in Fallen Arbor’s side who might prove useful in the future. Draven Nyx. Someone who has a common enemy, even if he is made to serve them.” I spied the Scarlett House and grabbed John’s arm. “Let’s not go back home or to the tavern. Let’s stay someplace … safe.” My voice cracked some.
“And where do you intend to take me?” he mused, waving at the Scarlett men and women who shouted down to us. “You’re burned to a crisp.”
“You can help me fix that in a moment,” I grumbled, face flushing with heat at the thoughts forming, the desires stirring to the surface.
The Scarlett House was bustling with naked bodies, erotic activities, and John’s eyes grew wide. It hadn’t been my first time seeing such a sight after spending so many times in similar atmospheres when I had been smitten with Viceroy Falco. Clients were engaging in sex on the couches while some played with themselves watching the activities of others. Someone reached out, beckoning John to join, and he stepped closer to me, grabbing my arm. John was stuttering, refusing to take a step farther when I locked eyes with Madame Scarlett. She excused herself, fluttering her fan as she swayed and weaved through the bodies to come before us.
“My darling, you should really keep your distance from Fractured Ones.” Vicereine DeVivo snapped her fan closed and tapped John on the chest to bring his gawking eyes to her. “And bringing the good Father here to have his fill, how fun!”
“A private room for the both of us. I’ll pay afterward,” I demanded.
“No need.” She chuckled. “Consider it a celebratory gift, on me for winning the title of Terahime’s Blood Champion.” Looking me over, she tsked a few times. “Do you want a room with a bath?”
“No, just a room. Now,” I pressed once more. “We can discuss things later. I mean bathe later.”
“Of course. Not a problem.” Madame Scarlett motioned with her hand and a girl appeared. “Follow her. She’ll take you to the basement where our most private rooms are.” She leaned between John and me. “No one should hear you down there, lovelies.”
Gripping John, I followed the scantily dressed woman down the stairs to a hallway with gaudy wallpaper and lighting fixtures painting the way in red. She unlocked the door, and I pulled John in, closing it and drawing the lock. Abandoning Ashton against the door, I leaned him against the doorknob with the aid of a chair before tossing one of the many blankets over him. The thoughts hadn’t slowed in the last few minutes, the last few steps, as my heart raced. I could smell John’s arousal. My skin crawled, craved his taste, demanded his blood to heal what damage had been done to me.
“I don’t think this is what I consider an alternative for a hideout.” John was marveling over the gaudy decoration, the giant bed at the center of the tiny room, and leaned in to peer at the shelves full of strange items and bottles. “I think this makes your room at the chateau look honest, Dante,” he mused.
At long last I have you alone. Not recently alive and well, but a version of you where we find ourselves at the edge of danger. A version of you that isn’t gaunt with recovery. Today, tonight, I have a version of you that is full of life, cheeks no longer hollow, dark circles gone, and…
I pulled the hood down, tugging John to spin before closing the gap between us. Our lips locked. My desperation to have him had broken in the wake of the fight. His lips parted, inviting my tongue inside. I could feel the tip of his press against a fang, curious and wanting to explore me. My fingers tugged off his coat, each step bringing him closer to the bed until he tripped and fell back with a yelp. Gods I love doing that to him. John’s own excitement was loud with his own actions. He kicked off his boots and began to shed his pants and shirt, frantic and wild. I did the same, boots off and pants dropping to the floor. My skin crawled, both our hearts racing in my ears, driving me to push forward with my advances. It was as if two stallions raced side by side.
“Dante, I knew you were fighting but…” John swallowed, unable to slow the racing beats inside his chest. “But I thought we…”
“I was able to pay back our debt and prepare better.” I knelt on the floor between his open thighs, hands riding up them and making him his cock harden further, jolting in anticipation. “I was greedy and selfish. The reason I really joined tonight was so I could learn to fight better without a weapon. I enjoy the fights as much as I enjoy…” My fingers caressed the underbelly of his cock, and he shuddered.
“I didn’t…” Closing his eyes, John gripped fistfuls of the blankets as my tongue ran hot across his cock. “Dante, the burns.”
“Gone soon enough,” I murmured as I continued my licking and sucking of his hardened length.
“Do we really have to do this in the whorehouse?” John’s voice squeaked.
Pulling away, I looked up at him and chuckled. “That’s where your mind’s at?”
John cracked one eye open. “I was a hermit’s farmhand then a priest, Dante. What I saw up there was more than my lifetime’s worth of lustful actions.”
Glancing at the shelf of toys and more, I smirked. “Then let’s close that gap together, no?”
Eyes wide, John gripped my hair, yoking my head back, and met my hungry gaze. “We are not hiring a Scarlett man or woman. Absolutely not and never.” The jealousy in his voice made my heart flutter.
Licking his cock from base to tip, I growled. “I’m too jealous to share you.”
John’s face flushed. “I see…” A smile crested before he let go of my hair to trace the handprint burnt onto the left side of my face. “Will it go away?”
“Does it bother you to see it?” I stroked his dick in my palm, rolling my thumb across the tip.
“It does.” John’s eyes fell over to the other charred sections. “Why didn’t you fold sooner? You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, Dante.”
“I needed the title,” I confessed, taking in his hardened expression. “It could open up a chance for allies or at least gain us passage on ships if things get rough.”
“Ah, so that’s why.” John nodded as he had found the missing puzzle piece to his thoughts on the matter of my secret life as a brawler. “Now, how shall we heal this, hmm?”
I smirked and began kissing his inner thigh. Goosebumps rolled over him, and his heart fluttered like a bird taking flight. The vein pulsed like a drum under my tongue, and I stole a look at John. Those blue gemstones watched with allure and fascination. My fangs itched, though the hunger had been drowned under the lustful arousal.
Ashton did know the secret to pulling it back under control after all.
Fight desire with desire.
I pressed my fangs into the soft flesh, and the exhilarating pop and hot gush filled my mouth. Sweet sanguine wine slid down my throat and warmed my belly. For the first time, I could indulge slowly and savor the flavor of John. My entire being shuddered, moaning as his taste filled me. John inhaled swiftly. A finger trailed over places healed of the burn. Another long suck, and he moaned, arching as muscles tensed. Pulling away, I slid my tongue over the bite mark. I had suckled too deeply, bruising the skin. Another lick softened the dark pools where fangs had trespassed into his flesh. My chest swelled with guilt and grandeur.
Did I always secretly feel this way each time I left my mark on his body?
A means of claiming him as mine and only mine?
Returning my attention to his cock, I slowly took him between my lips, tongue wriggling, cheeks concaved. I took all of him until the tip knocked at the back of my throat. John moaned, and I pulled up and away only to repeat this time and time again. The flesh hardened against my lips and tongue, letting me know how his pleasure grew with my agonizing teasing. His impatience surfaced, something I couldn’t help but tease out of him.
John is so impetuous when it comes to this.
Fingers tangled in my hair, he shifted, grunting with his efforts. His hip rolled to thrust in and out of my mouth. I allowed him to have his way. I slid my hand up his torso, the flexing of his abdominal muscles making my own cock harden further. His legs tensed and shuddered. As he pushed hard into me, the familiar twitch of John’s hard cock sent a shiver through me. I drank in the hot cum, sucking and enticing him as he moaned with his release. With a pop of lips, he fell back. An arm over his face, he panted.
“By the Divine Father, that was glorious,” he muttered, and I chuckled.
Reaching over, I grabbed the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount in my palm. “Oh, but I am not done, my priest.”
“Saint,” John corrected with a half-laugh.
Rubbing my fingers across his back door, I slipped a finger inside, and he stiffened. “I hope it will be my name you praise before begging forgiveness in that case.”
“Promises,” John moaned as I slipped two fingers in, stretching him.
I took my time, teasing him, prepping him, and waiting for him to harden once more. Three fingers stretched, preparing him for what we both wanted. Satisfied with the boiling of his body, the rise of his cock, I lubed my own and pressed the tip against him. Leaning forward, I pulled his arm off his face, eyes locking. The tip of my dick slipped inside John, and he inhaled sharply. I rode him slowly, calculating, watching the shifts in his face as he moaned and hissed.
Will it be like this between us every time?
Do I dare tell you I intended to leave you behind to become the assassin I’ve been playing pretend as, my saint?
That I was willing to burn this city to the ground to slay the one who hurt you the most?
Hilt deep, I paused, my cock jumping inside his tight warmth. His own dick hard between the hard planes of our bodies, I wrapped my arms around him. Lips connecting, our tongues tangled and I ground against him. The cut reopened, responding to our connection sweet as ever. Our moans were no longer our own as our bodies became interwoven with one another. John’s hands clawed at my back and his knees rose to let me push deeper. I peaked, arching as I came inside him. His hands slid up my torso as if admiring the entirety of the ecstasy it brought to me. John pulled me back down and rolled us. He searched the bed for the bottle. The heated aggression from that time at the Taverns Way Inn bath filled my mind. Pure desire, dominating and demanding, sent chills over me. My blood boiled to see him be so bold to take me once more was invigorating. John poured lube over his hard cock, ready to peak once more for me.
He will not be gentle.
John’s too greedy.
And I couldn’t contain the smile and elation. Two fingers slid inside me, fast and eager. His cock followed hard and fast. I cried out, gripping the blankets and panting. John didn’t flinch.
No, he is as hungry for this as I am.
He’s still far gentler than my previous lover by far.
I want him to ravage me, hurt and please me like no one else can!
Fingers dug into my hip, jerking me back to the bed’s edge so he could pull himself out only to slam himself back inside with a satisfying grunt. John slid a hand over my hip and began to stroke and play with me. Unlike him, I was built to hold my hardness until I had absolutely exhausted my desires. My moans added to the eroticism of his body thrusting against my own. I came, cum hot and slick in his hand as he slid it over my cock. It sent him over the edge, and he moaned, filling me, and I shuddered under him. We panted, hearts stampeding, blood rushing, and he froze. Throbbing, glorious aftershocks of the rushed need for pleasure, for pleasing one another, washed through us for several minutes.
“I feel so horridly greedy.” John pulled away and flopped onto his back, arm across his face as he tried to catch his breath. “Divine Father and Beloved Mother forgive me,” he rasped between breaths. “Secretly, I adore the idea this man, this prince, this lover of mine is willing to kill a man to protect me and what is his.”
Pushing open his legs, I gave chase, crawling on top of him to push back inside him once more. “You would kill a man for me and even go as far as sacrifice yourself so I could see the sun for one more day,” I whispered into his ear, and he quivered under me. “You are my saint, and I am your assassin. There’s nothing we can’t take, including each other.”
“I can’t tell which of us is greedier,” he scoffed, peeking out from under his forearm. “Perhaps deep down, we are just relentless old hermits who are angry because we’ve been ripped away from our precious farm, no?”
Sniggering, I murmured, “I think that’s the truth of it, my love. Perhaps one day we can find that delightful silence and peace once more.”
“We are wanted men, Dante,” he drawled, smirking, a moan filling him as I slowly rolled my hips against him. “Though if this is how we blow off the frustration, I can’t say I am jealous of missing out on the peace.”
I began thrusting harder, and he arched under me and tightened. Moaning, I released inside him. John pulled me down to him, kissing me deeply and passionately. We had wanted a moment to steal away for ourselves, and we had achieved it in a night.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered into my ear. “Don’t ever stop loving me.”
Tomorrow is another matter.
The Ice Breaking Ceremony will start.
And during all the chaos, I will be aiming to sneak onboard the Wind Hound.
How broken will you be when you realize I left you to chase my murderous intent to take revenge on the man who cast the first strike on this war to harm you?
Will you praise me?
Hate me even, my saint?
Perhaps, both…
TO BE CONTINUED…
About the Author
VValerie Willis is a co-founder of 4 Horsemen Publications, Inc., an expert digital typesetter, and a fantasy romance author based out of Central Florida. When writing, she loves crafting novels with elements inspired by mythology, legends, folklore, fairy tales, and history. During her career, she has designed hundreds, if not thousands, of books including covers and typesets, for authors all over the world.
You can find her hosting workshops or attending as a guest speaker at many events (MegaCon, DragonCon, OCLS Writers Conference, Florida Writers Conference, SavvyAuthors, Women in Publishing Summit, etc.). She’s been on panels with best-selling authors from Peter David to Delilah Dawson, sharing her expertise in writing, research, worldbuilding, character development, book design, reader immersion, and more. You can also find her co-hosting on the Drinking with Authors Podcast, speaking with Jonathan Maberry, Heather Graham, Charles Gannon, and many more on their own journeys as an author! Or talking about the spooky stuff over on Eerie Travels with topics such as big foots, mermaids, and even Bloody Mary!
Her award-winning dark fantasy paranormal romance, The Cedric Series, is a blend of genres that appeals to a wide range of readers who describe it as “dramatic, lustful, and fantasy fulfilling.” The motto here is: “No immortal is beyond the ailments of man.” That includes powerful creatures, demons, witches, and gods! Many of the monsters are derived from Medieval Bestiaries, adding a fun flavor of new yet deeply rooted variety of monsters such as Coin Iotair, Shag Foal, Cynocephali, and more.
Like many authors, her writing journey started in grade school and carried her through high school. Many who grew up with her talk often of the traveling binders that were often kept safe in their lockers. This was the precursor to the now complete young adult dark urban fantasy of the Tattooed Angels Trilogy starting with Rebirth. In this alternative history piece about immortals and a failed reincarnation, Hotan faces a wide variety of life lessons such as whether to follow your own lifepath or the one chosen for you, when to break toxic traditions, and how to navigate the obligations of cleaning up our family’s mistakes and destruction. Inspired by her own life tribulations, it has been the beacon to keep her moving toward the world of books and writing even now.
For readers of fantasy MM romance, check out her pen name V.C. Willis with the Traibon Family Saga starting with books The Prince’s Priest and The Champion’s Lord. If you are looking for steamy paranormal erotica, chase down Urban Legends and modern retellings of fairy tales with Honey Cummings. Many have found themselves laughing out loud and fanning themselves while reading Sleeping with Sasquatch and Wanton Woman in White.
