Chapter 340
“Tie her up,” Asher ordered before Violet could even catch her breath.
“What?” Violet blinked, spinning around just in time for Roman to catch her, steadying her like a predator cornering prey.
“No, wait. What are you guys up to?” Her heart slammed against her ribs now. Whatever this was, they weren’t playing. The realization hit her like cold water. She might have gone too far this time.
Roman leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead. His voice was soft, almost soothing, but the cruel glint in his eyes said otherwise. “No need to panic, darling,” he whispered. “We’re only going to hurt you in the best way.”
Her breath hitched.
Roman smiled wider. “Are you done yet?” he called out.
Violet’s eyes widened in shock. That cunning fox had been distracting her, and by the time she noticed, it was too late. Griffin and Alaric had already worked the knots around her wrists and ankles. She pulled at them, but they didn’t budge. They had her spread wide across the bed, every limb restrained.
The boys stepped back to admire their work.
“She looks beautiful,” Alaric and Griffin said in unison, exchanging a glance of mutual surprise.
“She looks delicious,” Roman corrected, his gaze predatory with his tongue flicking out—except it wasn’t human anymore. A forked serpent’s tongue darted out, and a cold shiver raced down Violet’s spine. Whatever they had planned just turned serious.
Asher stepped forward, standing at the foot of the bed, eyes dragging over every inch of her body stretched and vulnerable. His gaze was molten, heavy, possessive, and his voice oozed power.
“She looks like a sacrifice laid out on my altar,” he murmured, low and dangerous. “Poor, poor sacrifice.”
The taunt in his voice made Violet’s skin flush with both dread and something darker. She should be terrified. But like always, her mouth worked faster than her common sense.
“All that big talk, Asher,” she bit back. “When are you going to stop staring and get on with it?”
That earned her a wicked smile, the kind that made her heart thump unevenly.
Asher didn’t reply to her directly. Instead, he turned to Alaric.
“Your turn, thunderboy. Show us what you’ve got.”
Then, like the sadist he was, Asher dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, crossing his legs, and prepared to watch the show.
And for the first time, Alaric let loose the predator beneath the prince. His face shifted, darkness creeping across his expression. Violet swallowed hard. She had given the opportunity for the devil to be unleashed, and now, he was ready to play.
“Hey, thunderboy?” Violet called out, her voice shaky, her heart pounding faster as Alaric stalked toward her, fingertips crackling with faint, ominous sparks.
“Any chance you’ll make this quick?” she tried to joke, her bravado faltering. “Instead of dragging it out like our psycho Asher probably—oh, sweet fucking universe!”
Her words broke into a sharp gasp as Alaric ran his electrified fingers along her belly, tracing upward. The sensation was a sinful mix of ticklish and electrifying —literally. Alaric drew circles on her body, light as a whisper, but searing with tingling shocks that sent bolts of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped, moaned, writhed.
“Damn it, Alaric! You’re charging me like a goddamn light bulb,” she whimpered, lost between agony and bliss. “If I wasn’t naked, I’d think this was an interrogation.”
Alaric chuckled darkly. “Really? Let’s see if you’ll still joke after this.”
His words carried a dark promise and Violet tensed, anticipating his touch as his fingers gilded towards her breast.
The moment his sparking touch teased her nipple, Violet’s body arched clean off the bed. She moaned so loud it filled the room, pulling at her binds, helpless. She wanted him to stop, yet at the same time, wanted him to keep going. She needed more. She needed him. Anything to soothe the throbbing ache pooling between her legs. God, this was torture.
“Alaric… please,” Violet begged him, her voice hoarse, wrecked, trembling. She couldn’t even clamp her thighs together, the bastards had made sure of that. She was left there, spread wide, writhing, a desperate, hungry mess.
“You don’t seem so mouthy now,” Alaric whispered against her ear, his breath hot, dripping with mockery.
His hand found her other breast, never losing the rhythm, and when he crashed his mouth over hers, Violet welcomed him hungrily. His tongue swept into her mouth, clashing with hers, fisting her hair as if he owned every part of her. Alaric tasted like pure energy. His lightning was everywhere, blooming inside her, crawling under her skin, flooding straight to her core, building… building…
“Stop,” Asher commanded ruthlessly.
And just like that, Alaric obeyed like the good soldier he was.
Fuck, no.
“No, no, no!” Violet gasped, staring at Alaric as he pulled back with a wicked grin. This had been their plan all along. That devil Asher. When had they even schemed this? Or did they always work together like a perfectly tuned machine?
And now, all Violet could think of was the unbearable ache. She was throbbing, shaking, dripping with wetness and stuck with what had to be the feminine version of blue balls.
As if that wasn’t enough, Asher leaned over her, smug and infuriating, asking in that maddening voice, “So are we sorry for running into the arena and risking that pretty little life of yours?”
Violet met his gaze, defiant as ever, despite the need burning through her.
“Not a fucking chance, Nightingale. I saved your sorry ass, be grateful for it.”
Asher grinned, sharp and dangerous. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
He stepped back and nodded toward Roman. “Your turn, lover boy. Show her how the Dravens do it.”
Done giving the order as usual, Asher leaned back in his chair, the puppet master satisfied after pulling the strings into motion.
Violet lifted her head just in time to see Roman stalking toward her, and the look in his eyes made her gulp.